Personal Experience: Love and Hate for San Francisco

After the first children's love with my native Kharkov, my head was instantly turned on by a handsome Kiev, he knows how! Everything was spinning in it, sparkling, the songs were screaming, the movie was filmed, the champagne was drunk, the sessions were surrendered on their own. Enthusiastic Kiev vertigo led me to tender Riga.

Asya Nikolaev. Photo: Asya Nikolaeva

Mutual love with her was formed immediately due to circumstances - my first daughter was born in Riga. But in order not to go headlong into a comfortable Riga life, I had to meet Moscow itself. And it was already a real, complex, adult novel, with anguish and jealousy, with reproaches and forgiveness, with the Highest Directing Courses, with coffee and cigarettes, with depressions and premieres. And when it already seemed that the affair with Moscow gradually turned into a strong, long, partnership, a completely unexpected San Francisco suddenly appeared in my life ...

There can be no question of any mutual love at first sight with San Francisco! All these pathetic attempts to be uncompromisingly tolerant of the smelly homeless people on the city's main streets; smile broadly at completely naked and not always well-built men walking along Castro Street with a bright sock in place; nod friendly nod to the young African-American dudes in vintage cars cutting you off; enjoy the thick, hematoma-like fog hanging over Downtown in the morning; skipping, waving your arms cheerfully, along ninety-degree slopes towards a through ocean wind (30 miles per hour) - in general, all this optimistic pretense of yours simply makes San Francisco laugh, without arousing an ounce of sympathy for you, much less reciprocity!

San Francisco is getting mad at it! Looking at his pretty colorful houses, here referred to as Painted Ladies, to put it bluntly - this nice junk can never cost 5 million dollars, and renting these two-bedroom apartments should in no case go up to 15 thousand dollars a month, because this is absurd and it smells of dust, rot and gold rush!

Photo: Asya Nikolaeva

Having met face-to-face with a homeless man in Mission Dolores Park, singing the chic hoarse baritone of Amy Winehouse's song, to tell the truth that, despite his stunning vocal abilities, he smells bad, his cardboard tent is terribly dirty, and flies fly and He urgently needs to disinfect his small territory and himself, well, and in the case of his violent disagreement and the threat of throwing you out of his imaginary site, you should dial the cherished numbers - 911!

Having stood in a one and a half hour queue on a Friday evening at some of the best Peruvian restaurants in the city and finding yourself in the darkest and mustiest space, consisting of 4 rickety tables and an open kitchen with smoky pots, you have to turn around abruptly and loudly leave, leaving a review of anger and indignation on Yelp ! And when a timid Vietnamese manicurist (others are rarely seen here), because of her innate workaholism, erases your nail plate into blood, you shouldn’t sigh restrainedly and, with a languid smile, encourage her with words like - well, what can you do, it’s good at least your finger is in place, but It’s better to immediately express your opinion about Vietnamese manicure and its complete non-compliance with international standards, and there should be no talk of paying for this procedure, and plaintive screams in the back “Madam, Tips-tips” can take the poor fellow to court!..

And when all your negative and protest, disappointment and high expectations, broken hopes and snobbish indignation, mental prejudices and comfortable stereotypes finally exhaust themselves, you suddenly feel love for this city! Love is fragile and controversial, but incredibly resistant, squeezing into your heart with each new day, with each new street, with each new bagel, with constantly blooming flowers in the trees, with dawns over Bay Bridge and sunsets over Alcatraz, with traffic jams on the Golden Gate and with the fur seal squeals at Pierce # XXUMX, with the all-consuming smell of marijuana on the Mission and the most delicious ceviche in the same Peruvian restaurant! And most importantly, in all this some ugliness, inadequacy and discrepancy, you will begin to read the symptoms of real freedom, without shouting and pathos, and so calmly suggesting to you that if you want to be FREE - be it ... and do a manicure in Moscow !

“And also,” San Francisco adds in a whisper, “if you want me to love you too, throw away your guidebook!”))) To be continued. # diariesmigrant