House of Nanking–San Francisco :: Photographer–Unknown
Rolodex Card
“I left my heart in San Francisco.” I finally know what Tony Bennett meant. I left it on the Golden Gate Bridge, the House of Nanking, a sushi restaurant in Berkley, and even further north. It was my first time in the Bay Area. A nephew got married which was why we were there. We stayed in a Walnut Creek hotel with other family members, for a few days, and on one of those days, my wife, daughter and I drove into San Francisco. We went down the crookedest street in the world, we glimpsed the Painted Ladies in the distance, walked on the Golden Gate Bridge, wandered through Chinatown and hiked the hilly streets of downtown. Eventually we arrived at the base of the Transamerica building. I had to see it up close. However much of an architectural seismic novelty it is, it’s iconic and I’ve been transfixed with it since I was a teenager. My interest was reinforced when the Doobie Brothers used an image of it on their album cover, Livin’ on the Fault Line.
After a couple of hours exploring the city we got hungry, so we researched restaurant options for lunch. We were flexible, as long as it was tasty, nearby, and Chinese. The one we identified was House of Nanking. It had great reviews, convenient parking and served what we craved. After inhaling our meals, we relaxed with tea and fortune cookies. Afterwards, we drove north across the Golden Gate Bridge and parked near the end of it, then walked back onto the bridge to the halfway point with lots of other people. I forgot the bridge was orange because its color was overpowered by the overwhelming view in every direction. Even from that height, I could see that the water was big and wild. The force of the wind was significant too and a bit unsettling at first. I picked our daughter up in my arms so she’d have a better view and when I did, the wind hit her face so she squinted into it. The vastness and sea air seemed to soothe her. After an hour or so, we walked back to the car and drove up the west side of the bay, across the Richmond-San Rafael Bridge, south into Berkeley for a sushi dinner, and eventually back to Walnut Creek later that evening.
Two days later we drove north with other family members to Point Reyes and the houses we rented in the woods. We had two that were adjacent to each other, a hand built hot tub with a rustic changing area between them, and a few wind shaped Cypress trees that formed a natural room. The bigger house was straight out of the Handmade Houses: A Guide to the Woodbutcher's Art book. I imagined it being built by a young couple who’d escaped the city in the late 1960’s. The other house was smaller, simple and modest, like it had been built decades later to accommodate the overflow during family gatherings. While we were at Point Reyes, we spent time on a beach along Drakes Bay, visited the Tule Elk herds on Tomales Point, and roamed a few small towns for food and trinkets. One mythic and symbolic town we didn’t have time to visit was Bolinas. I often imagine it anyway, because my wife has been there before with friends, Richard Brautigan lived there, and Anne Lamott writes about it.
Our trip was like a lot of other trips we’ve taken. It feels dreamlike, a little hazy, and even surreal because we suddenly jet out of it, not allowing for a gentle transition. When the glow begins to fade weeks later, months if I’m lucky, I try hard to hold on and hope as much as possible will remain.
“You know what? I know what he means. It’s like a childhood memory thing.” From Don’t Look Up
Songs :: Stride of the Mind by Patti Smith, Sands of Time by Fleetwood Mac, I Left My Heart in San Francisco by Tony Bennett, and You’re Made That Way by The Doobie Brothers
© C. Davidson