Maybe only once or twice, and might I add always during the day, have I wandered this neighborhood. Never once did I give a second thought to what historical wonders lay beneath the surface of what I had deemed a crowded tourist hub, where smells of spiced cream, starch and a hint of damp garbage fill the air. But on this evening I have come to the west coast stomping grounds of the literary geniuses The Beats. I am here to try and understand, to uncover, the trampled history buried under the feet of feverish consumers in search of trinkets, snapshots, and the forty-five second authentic gist of some area they have heard they ought to pass by once in their life. Under the cover of darkness ,and with half an hour to kill before we are to meet our crew, to formally begin our exploration of North Beach, my carpool and I haphazardly wander into the tavern that is next to the famed City Lights Bookstore. The bar is named Vesuvio, there are a handful of patrons inside, tons of cool pictures, posters, and plaques on the walls, a grizzly looking bartender, and three open stools at the bar. To my left I can hear two young French travelers going over a map of the city and can see that they are crossing off and highlighting various parts of it. One of the tourists calls the bartender over and inquires where they would be able to find an authentic Italian meal , void of tourists. The bartender smiles and informs them that there are many restaurants to choose from on Columbus Street.
I found his response odd, after all they had specifically asked for an authentic restaurant away from the tourist track and now he was sending them into the lion’s den, the Mecca of all things processed and packaged for mass consumption. With only a few moments to spare I quickly left my contemplation with my empty glass on the bar and we bopped off to City Lights.
It is nice to meet up with the ESF crew and become the paparazzi blob, although those we have to share the sidewalk with may not share my enthusiasm. We are a force to be reckoned with our cameras flashing, video rolling, and good old pen and paper documenting what catches ones eye. Our various vantage points and choices of media will leave no stone unturned in this experience. It takes but only five minutes or so to walk to our culinary destination for the evening, Bocce Café.
With the entrance to the restaurant tucked inside a tunnel of foliage it feels like you are worlds away from the hustle and bustle of San Francisco. The crew whirls in like a tornado complete with the lighting to find, tall ceilings adorned with beautiful beams, a warm Tuscan palette of color, and with one large family style table for the crew to gather around the evening already looks extremely promising. Our service is quick, to the point, and free of corny sales pitches. Many of the crew are in the sprit of sharing and decided to split two dishes to keep the check light and bellies full. The food was superb, filling, and extremely photogenic. Then just as our tornado had blown in we made a similar exit and where then off to take advantage of one of the crew’s connections and ability to “hustle”.
Yet another five minute walk was all it took and we arrive here at the Italian French Bakery, where were are about to get a behind the scenes tour. We are greeted on the curb outside the bakery and escorted in through the back. Once inside we are treated to the delightful scent of freshly baked goods and immense warmth from the immensely large original oven. As we are informed of the inner workings and history of this amazing bakery by one of the owners, the bakers are busily working large mountains of dough in preparation for the busy day they will no doubt be waiting for them in the morning. Each member of the crew is kindly given a delicious freshly baked loaf of bread on our way out of this warm haven. We are off now to our final destination, Washington Square.
Walking into the wet and mushy grass the grew gathers to break bread and discuss what our overall feelings about our first exploration are ,and how we can best capture and share what we have seen, experienced, and perhaps even learned from north beach. The crew breaks camp and then I am back in cahoots with my carpool, heading home to make sense of the evening.
As I sit down to my computer to try and pull all my thoughts and ideas together I being to do a little research on the pub, Vesuvio. After all this is where the wonderful night began and the atmosphere was so cool and original. It was a pub that seemed like a place were creative’s would come to discuss life or watch it walk by, and where locals would come to kick up there heals. It felt like perhaps one of the most authentic parts of our evening, and looking at their website I now know why!
It was founded in 1948 and is known worldwide for being one of San Francisco’s best saloons. From its beginning it has hosted a wide array of clientele from musicians, artists, foreigners, business folk, and locals. It is now a stop for many who wish to trace the trail of The Beat Generation for it became a regular place for Jack Kerouac and other famous beat poets to perform, and interact with patrons. According to Vesuvio’s website, “It was here that Jack Kerouac once spent a long night in 1960 when he should have been on his way to Big Sur to meet with Henry Miller. Miller had written Kerouac that he enjoyed reading The Dharma Bums and would enjoy a visit from the emerging writer. Kerouac, however, had other plans. He continued to hoist drinks and called Miller every hour telling him that he was just a bit delayed in leaving the city,”(http://www.vesuvio.com/index2.html).
What an amazing place, and best of all no one had to tell my carpool about it, or its history before we entered its doors. We were merely intrigued by its vibe and drawn to it, with no expectations of what we would see, experience, or enjoy. We were allowed to draw our own conclusions and create a truly authentic memory that was all our own.
Perhaps this had motivated the bartender to lead the French visitors astray. North Beach is just like any other neighborhood is full of authentic people, experiences, and history. However, there is no formula or road map for finding the things in life that are truly authentic and will resonate with you as an individual. One must simply get off your duff, go out into the world, wander around, and see what speaks to you.
