The days are beginning to all roll together here, but that is to be expected when one has no routine. The only consistent thing has been drinking massive amounts of coffee while house hunting non-stop. The lack of response I have received is leaving me feeling a bit discouraged and, well, rejected. I expect this from guy I’m interested in, but not from strangers I haven’t even met! Ha, self-deprecation probably isn’t the best idea right now. Anyways, I’m continuing my search and trying to keep my spirits up that something is bound to work out. I’m also keeping my fingers crossed and saying a lot of prayers that things with the HarperOne job might work out.
But that’s all the serious stuff!
This past weekend was an exhaustingly fun one.
Nestled deep within the massive Golden Gate Park (eat your heart out, Central Park!) was the Hardly Strictly Bluegrass Festival. It used to just be the Strictly Bluegrass Festival, but with all things in San Francisco, rules don’t really apply here.
The line up was impressive, and on Friday afternoon Jess and I made the 45 minute walk from our temporary home in the Inner Richmond down to the park, following the masses of people swarming to the woods. The crowds were intimidatingly large (over 150,000 people were expected to attend the festival), and my eyes were so overwhelmed by the wide variety of people, their normal and strange assortments of clothes, and the towering trees over us. But all I could think about was getting to see one of my favorite singers ever: Robert Plant of Led Zeppelin fame. Seeing him sing, dance, and do his own new songs plus some Led Zeppelin remixes (including the dance-inducing crowd favorite Bron-Y-Aur Stomp!).
Friday night saw us turn Irish, as we visited both the Irish 32 Pub and The Plough and Star Pub. Irish 32 was a big, cavernous room covered in Sinn Fein propaganda (translation: I loved it!). Our fellow stool warmers (ew, not a dirty joke!) spoke in a wide variety of Irish accents, and I downed a Harp and a Cottage Pie (like a Shepherd’s Pie but without the shepherd’s minions minced inside). The Plough and Star hosts all things Irish music, so we watched some fiddlers string together some tunes, as people danced some amazing Irish jigs. I was more than slightly jealous at their skills. After my thrilling come back in playing darts against Jess and Kevin, Jess and I plucked up some courage and played pool with two guys. The one that I took interest in was named Adrian, and he’s spent the past few years maintaining trails in national parks around the Bay Area. Needless to say, the guys mopped the floor with us, as my pool skills have been declining greatly over the past year.
Saturday was seeing Mr. Hugh Laurie, in all his British splendor, playing some old time tunes, like St. James Infirmary, at the Bluegrass festival. He was hilarious and quite the capable piano man. Watching House just got more appealing. In between sets and after having some swigs o’ wine and some bread and brie, I sort of passed out in the hot sun underneath the two umbrellas I was clinging to in my hands. I didn’t think it was capable to fall asleep amid 20,000 people, but who am I to doubt my own tiredness? Next up was Canadian superstars Broken Social Scene, but not really knowing their music and having sweltered in the sun for hours beforehand didn’t make it really stand out to me.
Now Sunday, my friends, was an interesting day. Jess, Kevin, and I headed down to the Mission district to go to church at Reality SF, a new church plant. Not really my type of church I feel most drawn to, but it was an interesting experience to worship with three hundred under-30 hipsters. We joined an “eatup” group after to grab some burgers at Super Duper Burgers and talk. I met some cool people, and even this guy who had just graduated from Cornerstone in Grand Rapids. Small world, indeed. But here’s the interesting part: after burgers we were right in the middle of the Castro Street Fair. Now, if you remember from last entry, the Castro district is the predominately gay neighborhood. Let’s just say that they were all about celebrating that at this fair. There were food booths, safe sex booths, and even a booth to sign a petition to free accused WikiLeaks leaker Bradley Manning (naturally, I signed it). In the center of the blocked off road was a cover band belting out tunes dressed up as sailors. But what really caught my eye from faraway was this: a giant chicken McNuggety stuffed thing with a face on it that guys were posing with. I was a little confused, and so I asked Kevin, “Why is there a giant chicken tender?”, to which he replied “You’ll learn when you’re older”. Haha, so yes…well…let me keep this PG-13 here on what it really was upon closer inspection. Oh my naivety is going to be destroyed in this city!
Today we explored the Mission District and encountered an alley filled with murals. It was beautiful! Then we stopped in the Four Barrels coffee shop, which seemed to be the epicenter of all things hipster in SF. If Apple and a bag of coffee had a love child, it would be this coffee shop.
This city is all sorts of diversity, from its almost complete lack of chain stores and restaurants, to the unpredictable weather that changes from neighborhood to neighborhood, to its multiethnic, multi-sexuality population. I wanted a change from the often homogenous world of West Michigan, and well, that’s what I’m getting. I’m keeping my mind open and just appreciating all the newness around me. The world is so much bigger than I could have imagined.
Adventures in a Western Land 
love lady love