San Francisco is made for walking and walkers, though surely not for all times of the day and especially at night when it can be dangerous to walk on a dark and unfamiliar street. I know. I walk two or three miles a day for exercise and to reach a corner store to shop for groceries or a local restaurant like Mixto which serves Peruvian food where I devour the seafood stew.
Walking is probably the most democratic form of travel. It doesn’t cost anything to walk, stroll, or saunter and it doesn’t lift you off the ground and make you higher than anyone else. You’re always on ground level, even when you walk up a hill. I suppose you could call me a flâneur, an urban, modern archetype that Walter Benjamin made famous as a spectator, amateur detective and connoisseur of the street. I stroll to explore and discover, to uncover that which is hidden. Honoré de Balzac described flânerie, the act of strolling, as “the gastronomy of the eye.” One devours what one sees.
Everywhere I go in The City of San Francisco I smile and say “hello.” The walkers I meet say “hello,” usually look me in the eye, smile and say hello. These kinds of encounters don’t translate into money in my pocket or a job. They don’t build houses and they don’t resurrect failed businesses. But they do rebuild the web of community that San Francisco hasn’t lost entirely, though it has lost a lot of community ever since the advent of Covid and the closing of big box stores and malls that has some citizens moaning and groaning.
Recently, The San Francisco Chronicle, The City’s one and only daily newspaper, pointed out that the national news media has created a profile of San Francisco as a “dystopia hellscape.” Of course, The Chronicle doesn’t like that narrative. It’s not good for business and it’s not good for local pride. Of course, some real estate agents have pointed out that the negative stories have made it possible for buyers of commercial properties to get good deals and snap up valuable real estate. Naomi Klein has dubbed this phenomenon “disaster capitalism.”
Great cities, like Rome, have declined, fallen and even died, but like Rome and Berlin, these cities have also revived and reinvented themselves. San Francisco reinvented itself after the 1906 earthquake and the fires that followed. These days, San Francisco may be down, but it is not out. It has geography on its side, and it also has history on its side. Perched on the edge of the Pacific, it looks back across the continent and out to the Pacific. Gay Pride is as big as ever. As long as San Francisco continues to have neighborhoods and communities, which it does, and as long as citizens smile at one another, say “hello” and “good morning,” which they do and mean it, the City’s sense of community will survive and even thrive. It’s a good start.
As an advertising agent might say, “People are a city’s most valuable resource.” I’ve learned that lesson over the course of the last two years when I’ve accumulated hundreds of walking miles, and made human connections that make me feel I belong in The City, though I only moved here in 2021 and felt alone and lonely. Walking has connected me to people and places.
As a flâneur, I have discovered neighborhoods, like Dog Patch, which is between Potrero Hill and San Francisco Bay, I did not know existed until recently. I have seen new construction and new stores and restaurants as well as the homeless and those addicted to drugs like fentanyl. I have met dog lovers and their dogs, people who make the streets their homes, and tourists who roam The City in search of landmarks and historical sites. Yes, tourists from far away places like Tokyo and Moscow still flock to San Francisco. I see them in the streets and on buses and cable cars clutching their maps and gawking at the sights.
Getting out of my apartment and walking in Golden Gate Park, at Ocean Beach, Heron’s Head and yes even in the Financial District infuses me with a sense of belonging and a sense of joy. I’m usually not a Pollyanna, but being hopeful feels better than wallowing in despair. Thanks walkers and flâneurs of San Francisco. Thanks for keeping me company on treks that start off as solitary adventures but that wrap me in layers of community for which I’m grateful.