A teenager wearing a red sweater leaned against the wall and greeted folks taking the escalators to 7th Street and Market with tunes he played in a black bass guitar. Upstairs, a small lady swept the floor outside of the Oriental Restaurant on Market Street when a man hopped over her broom and said, “You’re a bad girl today,” as he pointed his finger at her and left with a smirk. The small lady swept faster. As she opened the door and walked back in, the smell of Chinese and Japanese cuisine diffused to the streets. As I crossed the light, I noticed a young man in a business suit with a sky-blue tie walking past a boy sporting a black shirt that read, “It takes the hood, to save the hood.” The ironies I see while strolling through the Civic Center fascinate me.
Later, I walked to The United Nations Plaza, which extends from Market Street to Hyde Street, and saw two nuns arranging a table with pots, trays, plastic utensils, and food. The homeless- male and female, young and old- lined up to receive red rice, a French roll, sausage, and a large M&M Cookie. Meanwhile, I spoke with Alberto, an immigrant from Mexico who’s been living in the streets for one week. He shared anecdotes about life in his pueblo- town- and in Mission Street and 16th; the neighborhood where he first arrived eighteen years ago at the age of 15. I felt overwhelmed and powerless after he told me about his second wife’s death. He said cocaine and alcohol filled the emptiness she left in his heart. I thanked him for his time and confidence to share such intimate stories. He congratulated me for attending the university and said, “God bless you.” 
As I walked to City Hall, I saw a van from Telemundo, rows of white chairs facing a stage, and a set-up crew testing microphones and speakers. Pilar, a reporter for Telemundo told me that Civic Center was going to celebrate Mexico’s Independence and the independence of other Central American countries that evening.
As I turned away, a group of people wearing bright yellow shirts holding signs in front of City Hall caught my attention. The mob was composed of city workers who rallied to express their anger about lower wages, fewer health benefits, and lay-off notices. In the same building, a bride and groom walked out happily holding hands. 
Spending my summer vacation in Orange County made me forget I can’t leave my San Francisco home without a sweater. The cold wind tempted me to go home early. But I wasn’t willing to miss the mariachi band, the Aztec Dancers, or the traditional Mexican food that night. I decided to stay and I had a great time.
Today marked my fourth visit to the Civic Center. All I can say is that I enjoy the diversity that sparks life to the neighborhood and that I am very pleased with my experiences thus far. I saw it all in one day within the boundaries of Market Street, California Street, and Van Ness Avenue: the angry, the happy, the poor, and the rich.
Today marked my fourth visit to the Civic Center. All I can say is that I enjoy the diversity that sparks life to the neighborhood and that I am very pleased with my experiences thus far. I saw it all in one day within the boundaries of Market Street, California Street, and Van Ness Avenue: the angry, the happy, the poor, and the rich.
Fabulous!
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