A Golden Gated Paradise: Part I
by sarahcoggrave
Many years ago, as a teenager in 2003, I visited San Francisco with my family, as part of a visit to various places in California. It was freezing cold and misty, with an ever present threat of rain. The famous Golden Gate Bridge was barely visible, and the city, if I’m honest, didn’t make a huge impression, although it was difficult to see much during the short time we stayed there.
And yet something made me want to return there – a spark of interest that never truly dissipated.
Over a decade later, in March 2015, I woke up at a youth hostel, located in a small park at Fisherman’s Wharf (close to the marina), with sunshine glittering through the dormatory window. Only minutes later I was sat in the dining room, eating porridge, peanut butter and toasted bagel halves whilst gazing out towards Alcatraz.
The view was incredible, and the hostel coffee, superb. To think people pay to stay in an inner city hotel when you can stay in a location such as this for a fraction of the price – definitely the best hostel I stayed in. And the fabulous breakfast was included, at no extra cost! UK youth hostels could learn a great deal from their superior US counterparts…
Outside, dotted along the bay, were early morning joggers, hikers and dog walkers, all in bright, light, summer clothes.
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As I ate my breakfast I felt like a child once more – the feeling reminiscent of childhood summer holidays; those summery days…so incredibly exciting to get outside.
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With a spring in my step, I was soon on the path that ran alongside the marina, enjoying some much needed Vitamin D (how I wish North West England could attract more sunshine) and admiring the perfect reflections of boats in the water.
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I spotted Alcatraz once more, (I should have pre-booked a trip there) and behind me I could see San Francisco’s hilly city skyline obscuring the rising sun.
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More importantly, ahead, was the Golden Gate Bridge – no mist, clouds or rain, but an incredibly picturesque scene, worlds away from the gloomy sights I’d witnessed some twelve years earlier.
Little did I know that California was to suffer one of its worst droughts at this time – I must apologise if my praise of the sun and warmth seems insensitive, when said weather was simulateneously generating enormous problems for the city and the state.
Nonetheless, I feel privilieged to have been able to appreciate the beauty of San Francisco as never before.
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And it was pleasant to wear a t-shirt – something I rarely do in the UK. Even during our so-called ‘summers’. And this was March!
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Several hikers wished me a good morning – San Francisco was the friendliest and most courteous of the three US cities I stayed in – and I kept wondering whether or not this was a dream. Was I really here? And was it really this warm, sunny and beautiful?
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With great anticipation, I headed for the bridge…
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