tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1805388877837098392011-04-21T19:50:09.241-07:00A Flemish columniste discovering San Francisco, its' culture and its' people.Alicenoreply@blogger.comBlogger651100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-180538887783709839.post-10249227104615358022008-10-15T14:43:00.001-07:002008-10-15T14:45:43.632-07:00

I can't believe it took me so long to post a blog again! We're heading home again in some days from now and I suppose we were just too busy taking all we could...Sailing the Bay, Sonoma, Alcatraz, Lake Tahoe and even the Grand Canyon and Lake Powell. I'll need to write some updates when I download pictures! Promised

Alicenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-180538887783709839.post-68525996292284404772008-09-06T21:44:00.001-07:002008-09-06T22:27:31.566-07:00

Now that we're living just out of San Francisco, we decided to enjoy 'a day in San Francisco'. Kind of funny, no? But knowing where to go, we had such an enjoyable day - visiting all the lovely, secret parts of the city in just one day!If you're going to San Francisco coming from Marin County and you don't know where to go, here's my 'secret' route description* Start your day driving over the

Alicenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-180538887783709839.post-80738248612735971162008-09-03T01:30:00.000-07:002008-09-03T01:50:13.789-07:00

Ok. Try this. Deciding on the Friday night before the long weekend of Labour day to leave last-minute for the most popular places in California. Monterey and Carmel. It took me almost all Friday night to find a place to sleep (which would not cost us 650 dollar a night), but I made it. (I don't need to tell you it was a hotel with a wedding party in the room next door that took to 3AM in the

Alicenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-180538887783709839.post-46003499907469763522008-08-25T23:43:00.001-07:002008-08-25T23:49:07.644-07:00

When girls wonna keep up with boys... They were going to hike Mount Tamalpais and seen the top was looking to me from the tree house where we live, I decided to go along. Three and a half hours to the top. Hiking from the stairs at our house to the east peak of Mount Tamalpais. And after ten minutes I started thinking of turning around...Goh, what are they fast. After 30 minutes I felt like a

Alicenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-180538887783709839.post-21623974395391368402008-08-21T13:15:00.000-07:002008-08-21T13:33:19.515-07:00

When moving to California I was sure about one thing. I would become a real sun-tanned Californian surf babe. Just by having breakfast on a terrace. Or by reading in the park.What did I know about the world famous San Francisco fog? About the cold wind freezing my fingers and ears? About big sweaters in August?Fortunately, we learned from the first half year in San Francisco. I don't like sharks.

Alicenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-180538887783709839.post-2751352534902621732008-08-11T15:07:00.000-07:002008-08-11T15:13:06.567-07:00

It wasn't the poison oak. Neither the weather. It was just a summer break back home. A quit one. Without saying goodbye. And it was really beautiful and nice.But on Friday we celebrated a goodbye party. A hippie party. With music. Of flowers in San Francisco and Californian girls. With people dressed up for Woodstock.And it makes me realize I really want to go now. Back to San Fran. Back to the

Alicenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-180538887783709839.post-87243985350525469152008-06-02T23:44:00.000-07:002008-06-02T23:53:50.504-07:00

I did not understand at all what they were talking about. It seemed to be a saying from Mark Twain. 'The coldest winter I ever saw was the summer I spent in san Francisco.'But now I do understand. It's cold.While I was teasing my friends back in March sending photos from me in springtime, they tease me now. With beautiful summer temperatures. Blue sky. And lightly tinted faces.When opening the

Alicenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-180538887783709839.post-3073361676359158832008-05-22T12:00:00.000-07:002008-05-22T12:18:08.815-07:00

I have not been a good contributor to the environment these days. Laundry service is a 24 hour thing for me. Every towel I use, every pair of trousers I wear goes straight to the laundry after it has been used once. Cause you do infect yourself over and over again with this poison oak!Soap seems to be the only thing that helps. Soap and a lot of warm, warm water. So, that was a good tip. But it

Alicenoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-180538887783709839.post-56724016889345660862008-05-19T22:09:00.001-07:002008-05-19T22:18:10.009-07:00

I can't believe it! I have not even wrote the post about the fall we've had in Yosemite. On a private ranch with a quad. Down a mountain. Stitches in the head. And many bruises. Enough to be miserable for a week.And when I start feeling good again, it comes. First some small red itches. Like strange mosquito bites. On my legs. And then it looks I get a sun allergy. Tiny red spots itching all on

Alicenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-180538887783709839.post-33762307899006470832008-05-15T22:35:00.000-07:002008-05-15T22:40:09.678-07:00

It's warm out here. Really warm.No cold wind this time that makes the air chilly.I am warm. Way too warm.And so must be my neighbour.Cause he runs around in his kitchen.Absolutely naked.Passes my window. Again and again.Just like in the American series. I also see an Ugly Naked Man when I look out of the window.Where are my girlfriends when I need them?!

Alicenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-180538887783709839.post-21035533798359756922008-05-12T22:40:00.000-07:002008-05-15T22:42:08.044-07:00

What I like about San Francisco...When you walk in the street.No matter what street...There's always someone with a yoga maton their back.How zen is that?

Alicenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-180538887783709839.post-21804675283192031772008-05-01T16:25:00.000-07:002008-05-01T16:40:32.054-07:00

Free has it's own definition here.I'm at Safeways. 90 minutes parking for free, says the window. But when I return to the parking, I pay 25$. Damn. So I contact customer services. "You're right" she says. And contacts the parking guy. "You're wrong" he says. There's a flat fee for event days. Of 25$. Even when you shop at Safeways. When I ask him how I could have known that, he tells me I can

Alicenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-180538887783709839.post-53863834252841542522008-04-30T22:04:00.000-07:002008-04-30T22:14:02.109-07:00

It has been one of the most impressive things I've ever done. Getting up at five. Taking a hot air balloon. And gliding over the Napa Valley when the sun came out. But the most impressing moment of the day was landing. On a narrow road in the middle of the vineyards.That's wine tasting.Literally.http://www.napavalleyballoons.com/

Alicenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-180538887783709839.post-40407928565666263432008-04-23T23:09:00.000-07:002008-04-25T20:53:14.666-07:00

Neighbourhood watch. Every suspicious person will be reported. Tonight is full moon. And for the first time, we go on a treasure hunt by night.And I feel like the perfect target for the neighbourhood watch.Be serious. Two people walking through the streets. Dressed dark. And warm. One even has work gloves on. The other one walks around with a flash light. And a GPS.Whispering in the streets.

Alicenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-180538887783709839.post-3333425083274853792008-04-23T21:49:00.000-07:002008-04-23T22:31:04.760-07:00

I met her in the weekend.And even with her big ears,it seemed she did not hear me coming.And she looked the other way.I met him in a park.The heart of San Francisco.He was here before meand will be there when I am gone.These are just two of these thingsthat proof meevery dayof why the earthdeserves to be threatened with care.Happy Earth Dayout of beautiful San Francisco.

Alicenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-180538887783709839.post-37888900316286909532008-04-22T11:04:00.000-07:002008-04-22T20:33:54.652-07:00

Carlo has seen a shark.I hardly can believe it.But he did. He says.Carlo is a friend. And he surfs. In the cold Pacific Ocean.Between the sharks, it seems now. Cause three days ago, it passed him. Close.Surfers look like sea lions. And they're one good bite. For a shark.Carlo wants to teach us surfing.But one thing is sure.There's no way you're getting me into this water.Looking like a sea lion.

Alicenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-180538887783709839.post-29417946686361775612008-04-20T22:56:00.000-07:002008-04-20T23:39:45.867-07:00

It's just one hour and a half from San Francisco. Half an hour to Half Moon Bay. And one hour on the boat into the Pacific. To the Whale Highway.For a while I thought the season was over. The season where whales travel from Baja de Mexico, where they deliver their calfs. Back to the cold waters of the Bering Sea.But there they were. One. Two. Three adults. And a baby. Not that I could see any

Alicenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-180538887783709839.post-337804124918381672008-04-14T11:12:00.000-07:002008-04-14T13:10:54.562-07:00

I call the San Franciscans oft the modern hippy. It is, at least to me, not suprising that this city which has been the center of a hippy century will also be the center of a renewed lifestyle for next generations. People count their ecological footprint here. They choose organic food. And organic clothes. Eat vegetarian. And drive hybrid. Sleep better with tea. And wake up with yoga. There's

Alicenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-180538887783709839.post-35782679802591800332008-04-11T00:10:00.000-07:002008-04-14T13:12:29.556-07:00

So I went to see the relay of the Olympic Flame. At least, I thought I would see it. But I saw what you see so often on demonstrations. People shouting. All believing what they want to believe.The Chinese were not happy. They came to celebrate. And there was no celebration. And the Tibetans, who deserve some attention, felt supported. By the Burmese. By so many other minorities. And by the

Alicenoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-180538887783709839.post-21933230597558000472008-04-08T23:51:00.000-07:002008-04-09T00:09:13.751-07:00

I cross him when leaving the metro station. On the stairs. A short eye to eye. Darth Vader and I.I laugh. What else can you do when an adult man dressed as Darth Vader leaves buzzling San Francisco by taking public transport.Afterwards I realised he's maybe one of these wanting to tell a message. They're at Union Square. Arty-looking youngsters with screaming signs. Shouting. Convincing. To free

Alicenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-180538887783709839.post-75645656898039104422008-04-05T20:08:00.000-07:002008-04-05T20:15:22.041-07:00

I discovered that "Breakfast at Tiffany's" here is not a film.It's the department store for diamants and brilliants. A must-see - no, better...a must-have - for the American woman getting engaged. With wedding bands shown at the same moment. Just to make sure you know how they look like. Matter of customer loyalty.And as a woman, you really would not mind having breakfast there.But they don't

Alicenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-180538887783709839.post-64805575786686439882008-04-01T20:01:00.000-07:002008-04-05T20:06:48.968-07:00

Back in San Francisco. After some weeks running around in Europe. And vacation in the sun. And while I stand at the airport having a photo taken of all my ten fingers and my head, San Francisco welcomes me.The earth moves. Under my feet.It takes a second. Or some seconds. Enough to look at my feet. And then look at my partner.Did you feel that?I did.Me too.Welcome back. You too.

Alicenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-180538887783709839.post-36460250564063150072008-03-03T22:13:00.000-08:002008-03-03T23:24:46.711-08:00

I actually never saw a colibri in my life. Or maybe I just didn't look well. Sometimes you need another country. To really start looking around you.I suppose I am one of these people who needed a new country. And a new camera. And even then...All the credit of spotting this little bird goes to my partner.

Alicenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-180538887783709839.post-12184770337922436802008-03-02T20:21:00.000-08:002008-03-03T23:23:52.900-08:00

It's only one hour away from the city.But it was enough to be woken up by the onk-onk of sea lions.Surfer boys walking past my window when I just open my eyes.A cool sea breeze. A café latte. And the sun on my nose.Santa Cruz definitely is a nice get-away when living in San Francisco.So, enjoy these photo moments. Hear the seagulls' already shouting?

Alicenoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-180538887783709839.post-37903914773309193642008-03-01T01:55:00.000-08:002008-03-03T23:22:13.747-08:00

It's kind of unexpected. The best party in a city as San Francisco on a Friday is not in a club. Or in a lounge bar. Neither in a disco. No. The best party in town on a Friday night seems to be...the museum. Friday Night @ De Young Museum. Modern art. A free life band. And cocktails. Before we knew we were shaking away on a hot samba surrounded by Brazilian Carnival girls. Arty. It has never been

Alicenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-180538887783709839.post-45231015155362543222008-02-29T10:36:00.000-08:002008-03-03T23:22:13.749-08:00

It strikes me since a week of two.Large publicity posters at the side of the road.Buses questioning me in big letters.Are you ready?It looks as if the US government knows something that I don't know yet.So, I decide to have a look. For that emergency plan when a next earthquake strikes. There must be a way to measure that, no?And do I get a surprise.These are no emergency plans when natural

Alicenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-180538887783709839.post-1859764133032555632008-02-24T22:08:00.000-08:002008-03-03T23:24:59.362-08:00

Every city has its' hidden spots.We discovered one. In the weekend. A small corner in the park. A closed garden door. But also a personal invitation to walk in.The community gardens of the San Franciscans. Little pieces of garden in a city. People taking care of 2 square meters. And a lemon tree.A picnic table. And a barbecue. And even a stro man.In the city.

Alicenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-180538887783709839.post-41013414468631768762008-02-23T21:52:00.000-08:002008-03-03T23:22:13.752-08:00

Don't get me wrong when reading the posts.I don't mind people screaming in the streets. I don't mind banks not wanting my money.I had a walk in town today. A rainy walk.Smiling when passing palm trees in the rain. And old,wooden houses in bright shiny colours. Flowers in the garden in line with the walls.I like the Café latte from Starbucks. Or Blue Bottle Coffee.Organic tee. Yoga in the city.

Alicenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-180538887783709839.post-46141549190372458912008-02-21T22:01:00.000-08:002008-03-03T23:23:27.709-08:00

He sat in the park.Reading a book in Chinese.And I enjoyed the peacefulness he represented.Just sitting there. Reading.A living manual of how to enjoy.The first spring sun.

Alicenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-180538887783709839.post-41901344984130680862008-02-20T22:12:00.000-08:002008-03-03T23:22:13.753-08:00

I ask him why.Why people start screaming out loud in the streets.Why so many people talk to themselves.It's all Ronald Reagan's fault, he answers.For a moment I believe he is one of them. One of the weirdos in the streets.Reagan decided to close the psychiatric institutions. Because he believed people with mental problems should be taken care of within a community. By family. By people who care.

Alicenoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-180538887783709839.post-78523112387928476522008-02-19T18:06:00.000-08:002008-03-03T23:22:13.754-08:00

Newspapers worrying people. Taxi drivers complaining about the value of the dollar. Until now, that was about it. My experiences of the American recession.I didn't see it in the price of the houses. (Excuse-me, a million dollar for a wooden flat?!)I didn't see it on my bill at the organic supermarket.And the city still seems to be consumers' heaven.But this weekend, I discovered a small antique

Alicenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-180538887783709839.post-82524058539095531622008-02-16T19:34:00.000-08:002008-03-03T23:22:13.755-08:00

San Francisco is not America. At least, that's what everyone keeps telling me. But hello?! It is definitely to far to be in Europe?! Isn't it? I do have to admit it is hard to spot the American in San Francisco. They must be out here somewhere. But we seem to meet the Germans. The Belgians. The French. And this morning the South-African. When we do spot a real American, they're different. Or

Alicenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-180538887783709839.post-60917534533383425422008-02-14T16:43:00.000-08:002008-03-03T23:22:13.756-08:00

I take the bus. On an evening. Don't know yet where I will end up. I just wanted to be out after a day of hard work. A gay couple next to me tells me to get out in Fillmore Street. For a walk in a street with many restaurants and shops. So, I walk up and down Fillmore street. Really up and down. Hills up. And hills down. I have read that San Francisco is the only place in the whole wide world

Alicenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-180538887783709839.post-66949030480561128192008-02-12T15:58:00.001-08:002008-03-03T22:58:33.931-08:00

I have been a real tourist over the weekend.And guess what?I loved it.Biking the Golden Gate Bridge.Sitting on the water side slurping from a coffee.Driving the little beetle to the North Bay without the roof.Flying in a tiny-winy plane called Maggie Tatcher to Columbia.Looking for gold in the old mine village.Looking at people dressed as if they live in 1850.Enjoying the sun. And smiling.The

Alicenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-180538887783709839.post-63785395793608305672008-02-11T16:28:00.000-08:002008-03-03T23:25:44.330-08:00

I have been very conscient about living in a risk area. And decide to follow a first aid course. Subscribe myself to the Red Cross. And get an invitation for a Monday morning course. In law."Why would you be scared to help a victim?" says the Red Cross teacher."Blood" I yell."Being sued" answer the American students.I am puzzled straight away. Being sued for saving someone's life?! For being a

Alicenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-180538887783709839.post-40932332198561630292008-02-08T01:07:00.000-08:002008-03-03T23:15:21.203-08:00

We have an account on an American bank. Since exactly one week. A theoretical account. Cause we have not been allowed yet to take money. To put money is not such an issue."So, how satisfied are you, sir, about your bank services?" asks a lady on the telephone."Excuse me?" says my own German. "How would I know? We have not been able to use your service yet.""No sir, you have to answer on a scale

Alicenoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-180538887783709839.post-35158639031996036552008-02-06T21:28:00.000-08:002008-03-03T23:22:13.757-08:00

Yes. Yes. Spring has arrived. Be jealous.Blue sky. Sunshine on a terrace. And I even played tennis in short sleeves.It's February. It's getting warm. And I just L-O-V-E it!So, now that my nose wants to be out in the air, I'll start my personal search this weekend. For a bike.Second-hand or new? City bike or mountain bike? It's worth a thought. Cause we do have mountains here. And I have tried

Alicenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-180538887783709839.post-22186112681780706822008-02-05T23:48:00.000-08:002008-03-03T23:22:13.758-08:00

Sunday. Church day. I have not been taken that serious for a long time. But we got an insider tip on a Gospel Church. And that sounded interesting.So we get to Tenderloin. A part of Frisco where tourists are adviced not to go to. And it really looked peacefull on this sunny Sunday morning. The homeless were enjoying that first ray of sunshine. And people wished each other a happy Sunday.And it

Alicenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-180538887783709839.post-80388021160309159682008-02-01T19:28:00.000-08:002008-03-03T23:22:38.321-08:00

I have seen to many American movies. With mean taxi drivers. Bad people. So I refuse to take a taxi. I go for the bus. I mean, there ain't no movie where the bus driver doesn't take you home. At least - not by my knowledge. So here I stand. On a rainy day. Getting on a packed bus."Well, there you are again." Says the old man next to me.I look at hem with a kind of suprise.It is my first time on

Alicenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-180538887783709839.post-66850248115553980162008-01-31T12:29:00.000-08:002008-03-03T23:22:13.760-08:00

Also this is the city life of San Francisco.Just another part of the town...

Alicenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-180538887783709839.post-12722679982033193972008-01-30T18:40:00.000-08:002008-03-03T23:15:21.204-08:00

We're at the bank. Trying to get a first American account. Cause in the US, they don't accept European Visa cards everywhere. Or the fact you have money on a European account. So, we're looking amazed at one each other discovering the interest percentages in the US. Well, banks also have to live. Says the bank employee. And you have no credit history. We get a twenty percent interest rate for

Alicenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-180538887783709839.post-20017381555024447522008-01-29T22:26:00.000-08:002008-03-03T23:22:13.761-08:00

When living together with an entrepreneur in Silicon Valley, you're a target for an invite to a start-up party. I needed some persuasion. Cause I'm not a start-up.But networking would be go for me. So, here I go. SOMA. South of market. The upcoming trendy area. The buy-here-now-cause-it-is-still-cheap area.I'm in for two seconds and have a blue name tag on my dress. I learn afterwards it is

Alicenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-180538887783709839.post-38497532770435231212008-01-27T16:45:00.000-08:002008-03-03T23:22:13.763-08:00

I had not heard of geo-caching before I met my own German. And he had never tried it. But if you start hunting treasures - cause that's what it is - you better start in the land of gold. No?It stopped raining for some hours. And we decide to go out for a San Franciscan geo-cache. A treasure hunt made by locals. It's not hard to find. The Internet is full of them.GPS coordinates, a riddle and a

Alicenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-180538887783709839.post-29520247401823943582008-01-26T13:15:00.000-08:002008-03-03T23:22:13.764-08:00

It was quickly clear that renting a car when living here is just no option. The first weekly bill plays badly with my mood and a decision is quickly made. We buy a car. A real American car.But in the country of trucks and jeeps, our garage is adapted to city limits. You even wonder if a Mini will fit.Not that we have been wondering about it. About the Jeep. Or the truck. Or the Mini. No, living

Alicenoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-180538887783709839.post-27575804372945767622008-01-23T14:57:00.000-08:002008-03-03T23:22:13.765-08:00

The Sunny State. California. Does this sound cold to you? I had no clue. But it's freezing cold.

Alicenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-180538887783709839.post-73150728066656076722008-01-22T07:30:00.000-08:002008-03-03T23:22:13.766-08:00

Monday night. Bin night.And they step into the dark. I hear them coming. With their shopping carts. All their belongings packed in there.Searching. Hoping. For half a bottle of wine on the bottom of my bin. For a jacket I don't use anymore. For some Chinese left from the take-away.They sleep in the streets. In the rain. They ask for some coins. For some food.They're so many. And they're

Alicenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-180538887783709839.post-71617388856460916382008-01-21T12:20:00.001-08:002008-03-03T23:14:40.900-08:00

Alicenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-180538887783709839.post-6848913300696865532008-01-15T11:31:00.000-08:002008-01-15T11:44:28.517-08:00

Is it not amazing how you every time start longing to leave when your plane is almost ready? Four weeks of Europe. I have adored it. But in three days we'll leave again for San Francisco. And I just can't wait to start the adventure. Dolores Park. Castro. The Pirate Shop. Tara. Yemma. I look so much forward to see them all again. To pass the shop. To pass the park. To sit in the sun with my Café

Alicenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-180538887783709839.post-19921130187595083132007-12-27T19:07:00.000-08:002008-03-03T23:22:13.767-08:00

Tip of the day.Ritual Coffee Roasters.On Valencia and Hill Street.Busssssssstling.

Alicenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-180538887783709839.post-27041959327434615822007-12-23T15:19:00.000-08:002008-03-03T23:22:13.768-08:00

Alicenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-180538887783709839.post-42545358903834071422007-12-12T14:10:00.001-08:002008-03-03T23:22:13.769-08:00

My little sis is going to have a baby. Jipiejee. So big sis does her Christmas shopping in San Francisco. With a baby in the back of my head. And how much fun is this - cause San Francisco is into green babies.Being of the green state with its' healthy living, baby shops now sell organic. Anti-allergic teddy bears. Purely natural baby heads. And sustainability. With baby yoga.I think it's good

Alicenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-180538887783709839.post-19483837347463374082007-12-09T14:58:00.000-08:002008-03-03T23:22:13.770-08:00

Call me a bloody tourist. Simple. And boring. I can't help it. I just love the Golden Gate Bridge. Just can't get enough of riding up and down. Over the bridge. And again. And again. Or better. I let My Own German drive. While I hang in my own acrobatic way out of the car to make pictures. I try to make that one. That sublime one of the Golden gate. That one photo that nobody has yet. And I

Alicenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-180538887783709839.post-85704603649838796332007-12-05T23:27:00.000-08:002008-03-03T23:22:13.771-08:00

Every foreigner talks about it. The horror of San Francisco. Looking for a flat. Landlords and agencies ask you for credit reports. Proof from former landlords that you pay your monthly rent. Proof from your neighbours that it is fun to have you around. No prob. I'll let my neigbours write down how much fun I am. And I owned my former house. So yes, I proof I paid the bills. Nonono. Not in the

Alicenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-180538887783709839.post-27047730459331547852007-12-04T23:33:00.000-08:002008-03-03T23:11:39.681-08:00

The American Dog walker. Yemma, My Own Temp Dog, has one. A personal one. On Monday, Tuesday and Thursday. From 10 to 12. To me, having an own dog walker is like having a personal Coca-Cola Light man.He looks sporty. Walking the big dogs in the city every day clearly has its' effect on a man. He drives the old station-wagon. Space for many dogs. Jeans. Sneakers. Baseball cap. Blond. Off

Alicenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-180538887783709839.post-39254524786914357062007-12-02T22:42:00.000-08:002008-03-03T22:29:32.854-08:00

Discovering the back garden when living abroad is one of the most fascinating things to do. I stand at the ocean in Half Moon Bay - and have a proud look at the enormous pool of my back garden.It's getting cold here. And windy. And I amaze myself over a different world. To be found only 30 minutes from America's most trendy city. A handful houses. Old fisher boats. Colourful crab baskets.And

Alicenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-180538887783709839.post-56937193023347477082007-11-30T12:37:00.000-08:002008-03-03T23:22:13.772-08:00

Sometimes you wonder if it's for real. Americans are so friendly that you wonder why? What do they want from you?I met her at the flower shop. Tara is her name. And she smiles. Asks me what I need. An selects my bouquet carefully. She chats away. Where am I from. And where she's from. Why am I here. Why she's here. What I like. What she likes. Tara has a flower and gifts shop. Organic gifts.

Alicenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-180538887783709839.post-30297557112164852112007-11-29T10:15:00.000-08:002008-03-03T23:10:04.743-08:00

Even California, with it's healthy living, does not count tiny Americans. At least, not more tiny than the average European. Still...try a bathroom - and you discover a toilet made for tiny people. Can't figure out how the average American does it. The toilet is broad - that's a fact. Place enough to sit down. Even for less tiny people. No, that's not the problem. But the toilet is deep - very

Alicenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-180538887783709839.post-6992654103037769712007-11-28T07:11:00.000-08:002008-03-03T23:22:13.773-08:00

There's things you just don't get. San Francisco is a city. With parks. No wonder there are people with dogs. To walk in those parks.But with all the tiny flats, you would expect small dogs. Cause a big dog in a little flat? Nope. Dog lovers in SFO see it BIG. No tiny, barking things in the park. Big dogs running for a ball. A taxi driver has a big sticker on the car. The Big Dog City. I smile.

Alicenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-180538887783709839.post-577890165698594462007-11-27T08:24:00.000-08:002008-03-03T23:22:13.774-08:00

Yoga is a buzzword. On every corner of the street. I am a yoga-addict myself. But with a yoga studio on every corner, it's hard to decide.I start in Castro. Known as the trendy gay neighbourhood of San Francisco. And close enough to what I call home now.And it definitely was a buzz. More than 90 people walk out of the class before mine starts. 90?! In my home town we're about 5. If everyone shows

Alicenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-180538887783709839.post-26010038993560891212007-11-25T18:36:00.000-08:002008-03-03T23:22:13.775-08:00

It can be no surprise that when we decided to move to San Francisco, I checked the bloggers. No flat, no supermarket, no time schedule of public transport to be found... Who else can tell you the inside outs of a new place than those who have been in the same chaos for weeks? I found my blogger. Left home 1,5 year ago for downtown San Francisco. I left her a message. And today, she's my support

Alicenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-180538887783709839.post-75452807921414880722007-11-24T21:59:00.000-08:002008-03-03T23:10:04.745-08:00

The small letters really convinced me:You will also seriously piss off the b*tch who pays good money for this garage.And nobody wants that.Nope. Definitely not.

Alicenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-180538887783709839.post-59211494706382161932007-11-24T10:19:00.000-08:002008-03-03T23:22:13.776-08:00

There's something about this city. Something energetic. There's an energy stream that can not be denied. Takes you along. Yoga classes on every corner. People running to the park. Playing tennis in the park.There's one place where the energy stream really increases.It's the coffee shop.Cause they discovered what free Internet could do to their revenue. No employee wants to be at work. Or at home.

Alicenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-180538887783709839.post-83429435936754724262007-11-22T23:48:00.000-08:002008-03-03T23:10:31.967-08:00

Wendy is her name. And she shows me around in this amazing Victorian house. Asks me where I'm from. And how long I will stay. Proud I tell her I'm there to stay. Re-lo-ca-ting. For a year or so.Says Wendy after the visit: "Well, then I wish you happy holidays."Hello?! Does this woman not listen? I'm proud to stay.Me:"But I'm here to stay. I am NOT a tourist.""Happy Holidays" she says again. As in

Alicenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-180538887783709839.post-89363960194897180742007-11-21T23:48:00.002-08:002008-03-03T23:22:13.777-08:00

She sits in the corner of an Italian coffee shop. The age of my grandmother. Pink trousers. A red hat. And lovely hearts as sun glasses. She talks to herself.My grand mother plays synthesizer. Went to a music shop at 70. And came home playing funky music. That's kind of weird.Still - wearing pink trousers and heart-shaped sun glasses at her age - would turn heads in my home country. Weird.

Alicenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-180538887783709839.post-67901321652600711092007-11-20T23:04:00.000-08:002008-03-03T23:22:13.778-08:00

When flying down here, My Own German* and me watch a movie. We're grapping each others' hand when San Francisco appears on screen.It's not that I have never been in the States. And everytime I deal with the same "déjà vu". A feeling of recognition. A feeling that I have been here before. And I was. When watching a movie. America is one big film set. So when I drive into San Francisco, there's no

Alicenoreply@blogger.com1