The Bold Italic - San Francisco

Bars You Can Hit When You’re Homesick

Broke-Ass Stuart — Fri, 17 May 2013 06:02:33 -0700

San Francisco is such a transplant city, chances are if you’re reading this, you’re not from here. (Comments on just about every Bold Italic piece will remind you of this.) While you may be enamored by the multifarious ways in which SF is magical, unless the Giants or the Niners are kicking ass, your sports allegiances probably still lie with your hometown teams. Luckily, you’re not alone. People from all over fall in love with San Francisco and some of those people decide to open up bars that pay homage to the team(s) they’re willing to riot for.

Below are just some of the many home-away-from-homes for diasporic sports fans.

Lower Haight

A funny thing happened to make this Lower Haight Irish pub a home for both San Diego Chargers and Seattle Seahawks fans. Ruggy Joesten (of Yelp fame) and Jerome Zech, (aka DJ Jerry Nice) started coming here independently to watch their respective teams battle on the gridiron each Sunday. Ruggy spread the word that Danny Coyle’s was a Chargers bar, while Jerome did the same for Seahawks fans. Eventually it became known as both, so much so that San Diego fans and Seattle fans console each other if the other’s team is playing poorly. And the games where the Chargers and Seahawks play each other, well, that’s about as close to heaven as shit talking ever gets.

The Mission

With cheap drinks, bartenders that are equally sweet and surly, and lots of dogs hanging around, Kilowatt is a great place to watch a game. During baseball and football season you can always catch the Niners or Giants, but it’s during hockey season that Kilowatt shines … well, nothing in the exquisitely divey Kilowatt can actually be said to shine, but you get the point. This Mission mainstay has been a hockey bar for as long as anyone cares to remember and while they play games from all over, it’s the Detroit Red Wings that attract the most fervor. This is, of course, evident by all the Red Wings memorabilia on the walls.

The Tendernob

There’s gotta be one of these in just about every U.S. city, right? With a solid jukebox, inexpensive drinks, and Golden Tee, it’s a great place to while away an evening, but during a game there’s no better spot in SF to be a New York sports enthusiast. Sundays get rowdy with NY Giants fans, and the owners are big enough sports nuts that they even purchased some seats from the recently demolished Yankee and Mets stadiums.

The Mission & North Beach

Besides being known for their Pittsburgh-style “All-in-One” sandwiches (the French fries are inside the ’wich!), Giordano Bros. is also known as a haven for anyone who proudly flaunts the Terrible Towel. Steelers fans are famously die-hard, so Sundays are a sight to see. Those in yellow and black crowd the bar like it was a convention for Blind Melon Bee Girl loyalists. Honestly, before the North Beach location opened, I forgot Pittsburgh existed.

North Beach/Fisherman’s Wharf

While only people from Massachusetts would proudly call themselves Massholes, it’s still far more pronounceable than Massachusettsans, which is what they are technically called. Regardless, is there anything more insufferable than Boston fans? Drop in to the Red Jack Saloon to find out.

Inner Richmond

If you’re looking for a “Bear and Cub bar” full of big, hairy men drinking beer and wearing leather, there are plenty of options in San Francisco. But if you’re looking for a “Bears and Cubs bar” full of big, hairy men drinking beer and wearing jerseys, then Dirty Trix is the place for you. A solid and friendly neighborhood dive bar, Dirty Trix is the kind of place where they won’t give you too much shit for wearing the opponent’s gear on game day. Plus, they often put out a free food spread. It’s hard to beat that.

North Beach

Every Sunday for over 20 years Buffalo Bills fans have been packing the North Star Cafe past capacity. While this may seem like a long period of time, the North Star has been in existence since 1882, so to the bar it may feel like a passing fad, like Prohibition or pagers. But for SF-based Buffalo fans, it’s a goddamn right of passage.

The Mission

Where else but the Mission would you be able to hang out and watch Manchester United on one screen and Las Chivas on another? While you can catch any number of soccer and rugby games at this Irish pub, it’s the Premier league and many of the Mexican teams that draw the biggest crowds.

Author’s note: I know I’ve neglected to include a number of places, because there are far too many fucking teams to keep track of, so in the comments, feel free to add any favorite spots I’ve missed.

Where Are the Cheaper Rents in SF?

The Bold Italic — Thu, 16 May 2013 06:02:53 -0700

There's nothing more depressing than reading the news about apartment prices in San Francisco. Yeah, we get it, it's insanely expensive to live here, and it's not getting any cheaper. Most of us would rather lower our standards in roommates and street noise than deal with the renters' market ever again. But what happens when you really need to move?

We figured there has to be some good news out there somewhere in apartment-land, so after liking the map Zumper shared with the press a couple months ago about the average rent for a one-bedroom here, we asked the company if they had any new insights into the price of living spaces. They told us about these things called "cold pockets," which are not delicious, refrigerated pillows of dough and cheese like we assumed but rather microhoods that are cheaper than the neighborhoods around them.

Although cold pocket prices still aren't cheap (there's nothing here below $2000, and these are averages for one bedrooms), it's at least a relief to know these pockets exist.

Behold, San Francisco's cold pockets, and Zumper's notes about each of them.

SOMA MARKET → 5th → BRANNAN → 13th

avg. monthly rent: $2445

compared to: $2565 (in SOMA)

avg. savings: 4.7% ($120)

SOMA is very hit or miss so one block can make a huge difference in price. The closer you get to the water, the more expensive prices tend to be. If you're willing to tough it out in Central SoMa and live near warehouses, garages, drug clinics, and SRO hotels, you'll get a decent value.

Pros: Heart of some exciting nightlife, new construction apartments, and quick access to freeway. Cons: Lots of homeless, petty crime, dirty, and noisy. MARINA / COW HOLLOW LAGUNA → BAY → FILBERT → VAN NESS

avg. monthly rent: $2800

compared to: $3000 (in Marina/Cow Hollow)

avg. savings: 6.7% ($200)

Marina/Cow Hollow tends to be pricey wherever you go, but the cheapest apartments can be found along the busy streets (Van Ness, Franklin, Gough), which also tend to be the outer border of the neighborhoods.

Pros: Being far from the action doesn't mean compromising on safety or finding a nice apartment. Also, you're also always within a 10-min walk from the action. Cons: Unless you have double paned windows, you'll have to deal with constant traffic noise. HAYES VALLEY WEBSTER → MCALLISTER → FRANKLIN → FULTON

avg. monthly rent: $2600

compared to: $2800 (in HayesValley)

avg. savings: 7.1% ($200)

This Northern pocket of Hayes Valley borders the Western Addition.

Pros: Just a few blocks away from Hayes Street shops and restaurants, close to Civic Center performing arts and public transit. Cons: You'll be sharing some blocks with the projects, where the surrounding streets can get sketchy at night (shootings still happen around here). NOE VALLEY DIAMOND → 23rd → DIAMOND HEIGHTS BLVD → MARKET

avg. monthly rent: $2400

compared to: $2700 (in Noe Valley)

avg. savings: 11.1% ($300)

The pocket along the border of Diamond Heights may feel isolated to some, but commands awesome views of SF and street parking is less of a nightmare.

Pros: Views, street parking, and more space for your dollar. Cons: Isolated from the neighborhood hot spots, closer to fog cover, and less transit friendly. NOB HILL CALIFORNIA ST → MASON ST → BROADWAY ST → STOCKTON

avg. monthly rent: $2560

compared to: $2995 (in Nob Hill)

avg. savings: 14.5% ($435)

The best deals in Nob Hill are closer to Chinatown, or as some locals refer to it, 'Chinatown Heights.' For professionals working downtown, this is the best way to get an affordable place close to work, in a nice neighborhood, and not compromise on safety or convenience.

Pro tip: Stay west of Stockton St., where you can find nice, clean apartments and Nob Hill charm (cable car, tree lined streets, charming restaurants). East of Stockton some buildings begin looking like tenements. Be in good shape since you'll need to hike a steep hill to get to meet your friends in Russian Hill/Cow Hollow. RUSSIAN HILL / NORTH BEACH VAN NESS → BAY ST → EMBARCADERO → JEFFERSON ST

avg. monthly rent: $2660

compared to: $3200 (Russian Hill/North Beach)

avg. savings: 16.9% ($540)

This pocket extends from the base of Russian Hill to the Embarcadero. Average prices are lower because there are very few luxury properties and doorman buildings than upper Russian Hill.

Pros: You're within a couple blocks of the Bay and some apts have great water views for a good price. Cons: You're in a tourist hot spot and a bit isolated from the neighborhood bars and restaurants in central North Beach/Russian Hill where the locals congregate.

Bay to Breakers Bingo

Sarah Medina — Wed, 15 May 2013 06:02:29 -0700

Bay to Breakers is one of the few events of the year when SFers are encouraged to replace their normal clothes with ridiculously revealing threads or don matching themed costumes with their friends and drink (a lot) while taking a leisurely 7-mile stroll across the city. Over the past 101 years, we’ve started to see a couple of very prominent themes among the participants.

For your convenience, and to add another excuse to day-drink to your infinite list of reasons to get blotto, we’ve compiled Bay to Breakers Bingo, an awesome game that forces you to seek out the most ridiculous things the race has to offer. Take it with you to the race and see if you can cross off everything before the finish line; then, award the winner with a beer or a piggyback ride home.

You can also download the graphic (for printing).

San Francisco Is Too Nude

Shideh Etaat — Tue, 14 May 2013 06:03:16 -0700

The first time I went to my boss’ house I didn’t expect to see her breasts. She was the director of an after-school program where I was one of the lead teachers and she wanted to check in with me and brainstorm ways to better our programming. This conversation occurred, however, while her child sucked away at her nipple. She’d given birth a few months before, and although her kid was ridiculously cute, it was her massive, veiny breast I couldn’t keep my eyes off.

I don’t blame the woman – why should her role as a mother get in the way of getting her job done? The feminist in me wanted to sympathize, acknowledge her for not slacking on her work just because she’d recently had a child. I couldn’t do it, though. It was impossible to stay focused and have a productive conversation while her right boob stared right back at me.

I have nothing against breasts, or breastfeeding for that matter. Boobs are great, and using them to feed your infant is a beautiful and intimate process, but it’s also one I don’t necessarily want to be a part of. Whether it’s at a block party, La Boulange, or in the middle of the grocery store, I’d appreciate a little bit of cover up.

It’s not just the breast-feeding that I have a hard time with, though. I’ve seen more penises while living in San Francisco than I’d ever witnessed before living here, and I must say I’ve seen quite a few in my lifetime. Whether it’s older men wearing nothing but a purse and sneakers, or flaccid penises flapping around during Bay to Breakers, it’s a little too jarring for me. Like when the girl next to me at yoga decided to take her shirt off and practice topless – I couldn’t help but lose my balance and almost collapse onto her hardened nipple. I want to be accepting, and universally loving, and to not give a shit, but don’t mess with my tree pose.

Before we go on, I have to confess something: When I was little my vagina was called my “no-no.” When said in a Middle-Eastern accent by your mother, it sounds rhythmic, enchanting even, but when I look back, my mother was most likely just making sure I knew that those parts were off limits. NO. NO.

I’ve never had an open and comfortable conversation about sex with my mother. My parents used a seat-belt analogy when they found out I had a boyfriend in high school: “If you get in the car, and there is no seat belt, there is more chance for accidents. You put the seat belt on and there is no accident. It protects you, do you see? You understand?” Seat belt was just code for “wear a fucking condom because we’re sure as hell not taking care of your baby.” Sex has always been a taboo subject in my family, and even though I’d like to think of myself as someone who’s comfortable with her own body and sexuality, I know that’s not always completely true.

I thought I’d give it a shot once, this whole being naked in front of people thing. In the good old days of my early 20s when I lived abroad in Spain, I found myself at a topless beach along with all my skinny friends. My bathing suit could hardly contain my double D’s, and I hesitated when everyone asked why I wouldn’t take my top off. “I’m in Europe, why the hell not,” I kept thinking, so I flung it off. There was nothing liberating about it though; I felt embarrassed that my chest was so big, it stood out and everyone’s eyes were glued on me. Maybe it was the paranoid mind of a big-breasted girl taking over, but it’s been a struggle over the years accepting that my body has always been different than everyone else’s. It’s a struggle I know I’m only now really coming to terms with.

For the most part, I feel at home in this city; it’s taken a few years and an open mind to get used to certain aspects of San Francisco, and I’m still working on others. It’s obvious that people like to be naked here. Some seem to be into undressing to make a statement, while others seem to enjoy the feeling of letting it all hang out. But the experience of eyeballing so much flesh in one city can be alienating at first for someone who’s not so used to it. The recent public ban on nudity, which grants exceptions for certain public events, is a sign that there are others out there who aren’t totally comfortable with urban nudity.

Although I think the nudity ban takes things a little too far, I do think people need to realize that some of us lean more on the modest side. We may be a liberal city, but there are gradations in there of what people are cool with seeing, and I’m among those who need some time to get used to all these bare body parts.

It’s possible that this city of liberated boobs and penises is doing something positive to my head, though, even as it burns my eyeballs. I’m starting to appreciate my own body a little bit more. It’s a process – some nights I’ll even sleep naked, which my boyfriend doesn’t seem to mind at all. I’m learning to see things anew living in San Francisco – although I don’t plan on ever being the topless girl in yoga, and I’ll always do a double take when I see a penis out on the street.

100 Days of the Transamerica Pyramid

Jeremy Brooks — Tue, 14 May 2013 06:03:16 -0700

I work in a building with a great view of the Transamerica Pyramid and have been photographing it for several years. In 2012, I decided to start a project to document my daily view of this building. I took a photo of the Pyramid every day when I got into the office using my iPhone and the Hipstamatic application. At the end of the year, I had a collection of 256 unique images showing the Pyramid in fog, sun, rain, at night, and a once-in-a-lifetime event – the September 21 photograph includes the Space Shuttle Endeavour in flight en route to its final home, the California Science Center in Los Angeles. This project is now being turned into a book through Kickstarter. The book will be 12"x12" (big!) and contain every image from the project. Below are 100 of the 256 photos.

Is SF Friendlier than the Midwest?

Mat Sletten — Mon, 13 May 2013 06:02:31 -0700

When I tell people I moved to San Francisco from Chicago, the first reaction I usually get is something about Midwest weather. Yeah, I get it; it’s cold there. As a midwesterner (Minnesotan, more precisely), I grew up in a place with distinct seasons, snow (the only precipitation that can be fingerprinted), and demanding, demoralizing cold. Here people describe the weather only as either “nice” or “freezing.” Upon moving to San Francisco, I expected the temperatures to be different, but seasons in the Bay Area have an invisible internal clock that confuses my midwestern foundation.

When people here say, “It’s so cold,” I keep quiet. It might be coldish, but it isn’t freezing. Where I grew up, school was canceled when it was -35 degrees, and we loved it because it meant we could play shinny all day. The wintery nights in SF can be unpleasant, but they’re really nothing.

But everyone knows that the Midwest is actually cold and that San Francisco weather is an easy target. What’s really different about the two regions is the way midwesterners and San Franciscans socialize. The Bay Area is much more casual, for better or worse, with relationships. Understanding that has been the biggest adjustment I’ve made since living here.

I moved knowing some San Franciscans in varying degrees. I used my connections to meet others, of course. But I didn’t expect that meeting new people on my own would be so straightforward and immediate. I lived in Chicago for seven years and made seven close friends there. After a month of living here, I felt like I had 30 new friends. I met them while day-drinking, while night-drinking, at shows, in parks, at cafés, in lines (I know, right?), and while reading books at bars. It’s always been easy to find someone to do something with here because everyone is so genuinely inviting. No one here is bashful about calling someone a friend; it’s as easy as clicking a button.

But there is an impetuous side to these rapid friendships: people here make friends perpetually. No one ever has enough of them, and the hustle is never-ending. There is always someone new to meet and call a buddy. When this happened the first 30 times, I liked it. As it keeps happening, however, I find it difficult to feel close to all my new friends. In the Midwest, you work to earn someone’s trust and keep it; here people trust you from the outset. It’s easy to get invited out in San Francisco, but it’s difficult to maintain meaningful relationships. However, friendships here are terrifically buoyant, with very little maintenance required. I will go weeks or months without seeing friends, yet I always get treated as a pal when we cross paths again. It reminds me that not feeling close is not the same as not being close. It was unsettling at first, but it’s a difference I now greatly appreciate.

Midwesterners respond differently to new people, with mild hesitation. In fact, you’ll often hear them say about unknown folks, “He’s different,” which could mean 100 different things. Its most basic translation is “As a stranger, you are suspicious,” which leads to a heap of questions. Maybe we were oversaturated with after-school specials and PSAs (or because our parents promised us that Lutefisk is delicious), but the Midwest is fundamentally paranoid – loosely paranoid, not edibles-in-Dolores-Park paranoid – so building a friendship from that starting point is an uphill run. Once established, however, the relationship lasts in a profound way. It is as qualitatively fulfilling as the quantitative fulfillment I get from my new San Francisco friends.

I love meeting new people, but my expectations are different. Encountering someone for the first time in Minnesota means you cordially talk, find common interests, and then tacitly consider whether to a) hang out again or b) cordially ignore one another the next time you meet. Most of the time you would not hang out again.

The Midwest is also a region of “smiling talkers,” in that people couch everything they say in a smile. I like to call it grin-whispering. They’re friendly to your face, but the authenticity of that kindness is always provisional. This behavior has become so much more apparent to me after living in San Francisco that it amuses me to see it whenever I’m in Minnesota. A plethora of websites variously describe the strangling expression “Minnesota Nice,” including a Tumblr. (Yay, we made it! Or, in Minnesota speak, “Oh, good, hey.”) This is not to suggest that we aren’t genuine; we’re just naturally leery when it comes to socializing. It’s a pesky legacy.

For example, when I’m at parties back home, everyone wants to be the second person to leave. The first person to leave gets silently scolded (usually with arched eyebrows) as rude. However, any time after that initial person takes off, it’s socially acceptable for everyone else to leave. That first person is the social-manners scapegoat, the sacrificial barbarian. And if that doesn’t make leaving hard enough, Minnesota goodbyes take forever (I still sometimes fall prey to this habit when leaving social gatherings in San Francisco). This would never happen in San Francisco, where people often slip away without even saying goodbye, and where there is always some place better to go right now.

Changing plans is built into the making of plans here. Last-minute revisions are regular, expected, and understood, and those changes often involve turning a small group outing into a huge group event. You have to specify from the outset whether you want one-on-one time or if it’s an open invitation. The fear of missing out always trumps commitments, and that seems to be OK with mostly everyone (it would almost be rude here to expect people you make plans with to keep them in place). Not in the Midwest, where a changed plan can be an egregious social offense that whips up the whisper-grins and takes time to forgive.

But after two years here, I’ve never understood the Midwest and myself better, and I’ve found ways to appreciate what I love about both places in my life here in SF. I get my fix for the Midwest’s freezing weather on the ice rink at hockey games (I was surprised by how many of my new friends are into hockey), and I have easy encounters with people who are open to new experiences. It’s been an adjustment of expectations, but I’m happy to leave the slow apprehensiveness of meeting people behind in the Midwest. And as I adapt socially, there’s one thing I realize San Francisco will never replace: Lutefisk. And that’s fine.