Day 15: San Fran–Japantown and American Classics bike shop
In the morning we check out Japantown and see things like a store dedicated to teen cell phone accessories. We hang out at a Japanese bookstore the size of a Borders and see hot young Asian gals dressed like manga comics, the hyperurban latex skin look. Yow. We have sushi boat for lunch. H loves it all, goes nuts over the toys. We nearly fall for a Totoro tea set. Hmmm, possibly a few gift items were picked up. At the Soko Hardware, I fall for a few handmade Japanese bladed tools–a kukri-like hatchet and bamboo-handled hand-tempered pull-saw–and stash away a lovely kitchen-knife and a couple other nifty blades as presents before Martha gets to the counter.
We bus on over to the American Classics bike shop. I’d written articles for the owner’s bike zine in years gone by. He was out of town. It’s a great shop of high end and retro/vintage quality bikes. Nice displays of rare chainwheels with cool patterns on them. Nice displays of collectible derailers. And a whole showcase of Campagnuolo parts with the best old complete parts-set in one half and the new high-tech parts-set across from it. The old stuff sure looks better (and is easily repaired and maintained), like simple jewels.
At night we wheel the kids over to a wild, noisy Indian restaurant near David’s apt. It’s hot and steamy with loud music. We shove into the crowd and place our orders at the front then go find a table at the back. Some guys squeeze past us carrying a 5-foot-wide, 2-foot-deep metal pot. At the front some of the cooks are stirring a steaming stew in the same kind of pot. The food is great!
Obviously, you can get cheap great food from every part of the world in this City. Not too many kids around, though. Ha! It is a dirty city, but so vibrant.
I didn’t get a chance to see any of my favorite old stairway trails up through overhanging trees. Can’t do it all. I dream about those narrow, twisty pathways climbing up through that City. Will I ever find them again?
We wave goodbye to him as he heads into his shop the next morning and blast on our way.
