Haight in the morning

Since I was assigned the Haight-Ashbury district for this class, I have only experienced this area after 1 p.m. I decided today to change that and wake up early on a Sunday to see what it was like, and experience this part of town before all the shops opened and the tourists awoke to a new day of exploring this interesting part of San Francisco.

I got there around 10 a.m. and, as I had expected, the only shops open were cafes and liquor stores. I walked toward the intersection of Haight and Belvedere streets, which were quiet, almost tranquil, and there was a cool, slight breeze. Once I reached Haight St. the peaceful mood remained, but for a quick second the breeze kicked up the smell of stale booze and body odor. I turned onto Haight St. and realized that smell was probably coming from a transient man lying on the ground outside of CocoLuxe Chocolate shop, occupying two-thirds of the sidewalk. I stood there for a second observing how passersby looked at him, almost studying him to make sure he was sleeping and not dead.

After I moseyed my way past the sleeping man (who was indeed completely passed out, but still breathing), I continued east down Haight St. There was a surprising amount on people on Haight St. so early, but it was still calm and quiet. As I got closer to Buena Vista Park, voices coming from the bar Bloody Mary filled the streets with some noise. The place was packed, as was Martin Macks Restaurant and Bar.

I continued east toward Buena Vista Park, where I passed a group of five or six transient men, all of which looked to be between 20 and 30 years old, hanging out at a bus stop at the intersection of Haight and Masonic streets. I could not understand what they were saying to each other, even though they were speaking very loudly, but as I watched them wrestling around and joking with each other, they all seemed to understand what the other person was saying, as if they have their own mumbled language. I watched some more as one of the men walked into a nearby liquor store and came out with a six-pack of beer. He didn’t share any with his friends while I watched from across the street.

I finally reached Buena Vista Park where I noticed a pile of blankets and backpacks, which likely housed homeless individuals underneath them. Up a hill and by an area surrounded by trees, I see some younger kids, obviously transient youth, sitting on the grass and keeping to themselves. Some have instruments such as guitars or flutes, and others have a few dirty duffel bags that look to be packed with clothes. It seems as if they are looking for something, or waiting for something, but they just aren’t quite sure what that “something” is. As I watch a young man who looks to be about 18 years old lean against a tree and smoke a cigarette, a vision of my cousin immediately comes to my mind. A couple of years ago he was a runaway teen in the Haight-Ashbury district and other area in San Francisco for about a month, and its heartbreaking to think about what he went through, and what these kids go through on a daily basis.