Saved by the bookstore

Yesterday marked my 5th visit to North Beach and it was, in a word, wet. The skies looked less than friendly when I left my apartment Sunday afternoon, but I threw caution to the wind and ventured out sans umbrella, sensible shoes, poncho, etc. This was not wise. When I stepped off muni, I expected to be greeted by the sun's rays rather than a torrential downpour. I decided to forgo the bus in spite of the soggy conditions and made my way from Kearny to Columbus on foot. I contemplated whether looking like a wet rat would hinder my ability to snag interviews.

I walked into a café/bakery somewhere along Columbus and made a half-baked (pun intended) attempt at extracting a quote or two from a friendly, but less than knowledgeable employee- when I asked how long the place had been in business, she looked for the answer on a to-go box. As good as it smelled in there, I decided to move on after a few minutes.

I wandered aimlessly for what seemed like an eternity until I quite literally found salvation at Francesco Rocks, a Catholic bookstore on Grant that sells everything from crucifixes and frescos to a wide selection of religious texts. It was there that I had the pleasure of meeting Kathleen, an incredibly well-connected bookstore volunteer. I ended up answering as many questions as I asked which might have annoyed me if Kathleen, a former journalism student, hadn’t whipped out her iPhone and shared some very valuable digits. I now know how to reach a 20 year North Beach resident and a former Chronicle staff writer. Not too shabby.

Kathleen recommended that I hurry along and check out La Porziuncola Nuova of the National Shrine of Saint Francis on Columbus at Vallejo, but alas, it was closed by the time I found it. Who knew shrines had official hours of operation?

After further aimless wandering, I stumbled into the bar at the Basque Hotel located in an alley off Broadway- which sounds far shadier than it was. Aaron, the bar's owner/operator, looked like a cross between Jake Gyllenhaal and Justin Bobby of MTV's The Hills. I felt as if Saint Francis himself was testing my concentration skills. But that's beside the point…

I read somewhere that the average North Beach resident is 42 years old. When I told Aaron this, he said he figured it was probably true but added that the neighborhood seemed to be gaining popularity with a younger demographic. When I asked what he thought made it unpopular in the first place, he replied with Justin Bobby-esque charm that it had a reputation for being "douchey" thanks to the bar and club scene. Before I departed, I managed to get the names of some of Aaron's favorite area eateries. Naked Lunch, Macaroni Café and Mario's Bohemian Cigar Store Café are all musts, if only to run into a certain blue-eyed barkeep. Kidding, of course (sort of).

My last stop of the day was the Beat Museum. I chatted with Brandon who I found manning the museum store's counter, although chatting may be a bit of an understatement since I was there nearly two hours. We discussed everything from the upcoming Hardly Strictly Bluegrass (free!) concert in the park to the museum's ticket sales that day (just $75). I learned that Mark Alvarez is THE ultimate beat cop. According to Brandon's friend Mark (go figure) who happened to be hanging around the museum, Officer Alvarez "looks like a stereotypical cop" and his speech has a certain cop-like cadence (whatever that means). Needless to say, I'm looking forward to meeting this man. They also mentioned that it's almost difficult to get arrested in North Beach, a theory I don't plan to test.

When I asked Brandon about his craziest North Beach-related experience, he struggled to come up with one. He mused that this may have had something to do with the fact that living in San Francisco long enough has been known to alter one's perception of crazy. In the end, he came up with two particularly memorable moments...apparently it's not uncommon to find your neighbor launching bottles out his window in the wee hours of the morning or a used Christmas tree ablaze in the intersection of Stockton, Green and Columbus.

Perception altering indeed.