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Five Things I Love about Living in the San Francisco Bay Area

It’s expensive to live here. Probably the most expensive place in the United States. I, however, bought my home years ago, and I’m not planning on moving. There’s so much to love about the San Francisco Bay Area, why would I? Here are five things I appreciate about this place.

Outdoor Life

Tess and Bob in the San Jose Rose Garden

I’m a flower person, so I need to live where flowers are prolific. In the Bay Area, flowers bloom all year because of the mild temperatures: for example, camellias in the winter; daffodils, irises, and tulips in the spring; roses all summer; and chrysanthemums during the fall.

All year, Bay Arians can play outside in the thousands of parks and trails.  Golden Gate Park, over 1,000 acres, is the first urban park I ever visited. My dad took us to the Japanese Tea Garden; we ordered tea and cookies to eat while surrounded by lush foliage and quiet streams.

The Iron Horse Trail in the East Bay follows the former Southern Pacific Railroad right-of-way from Concord to Pleasanton for 32 miles. I use this trail for easy biking or flat walking. It also meanders near some towns, so I can stop in Danville for a latte or in Alamo for breakfast with my friends.

One of my favorite places to hike is on Mount Diablo. The whole mountain is covered with trails, lakes, and wildlife. One October, I hiked with a group to find tarantulas. From June to October, the males migrate to find a female to mate with. We found several. I even let one crawl across my hand.

Incredible Food

I don’t know of anywhere else in the world where I can enjoy fresh food used in cuisines from every continent.

San Francisco is next door to the vast California farm belt so our stores are filled year-round with seasonal fruits and vegetables. We also enjoy local fish such as oysters from Tomales Bay and Dungeness crab from the Pacific. And for people who like steak, California grows that, too.

In the Bay Area, I can eat foods from many continents and stay home. Tony’s Pizza Napoletana on Stockton Street in San Francisco has won awards for its memorable Italian and Sicilian pizza. My favorite is the Gigante Sicilian style pizza that features salami, linguica, pepperoni, and a host of veggies.

I love Mexican food, and the Bay Area is home to thousands of Mexican taquerias and restaurants. I order mahi mahi burritos at Taqueria Azteca in Dublin which is merely a kitchen with a few tables inside a linoleum-lined dining room. But the food is SOOO delicious.   

The Nix Company on Unsplash

Diversity

Many cities in the United States have diverse populations these days, but I think that the Bay Area has the best integrated diverse population. For example, last month, San Francisco hosted the Gay Pride Parade. My daughter and I walked through the parade festival on our way to a theater. On television, Bay Area channels feature advertisements with heterosexual AND gay couples. Our news programs have Caucasian, Hispanic, Asian, and Black newscasters.

And diversity isn’t only about race. I love my home because we have people from all walks of life—electricians, high tech workers, waitresses, students—and all ages—from babies to seniors.

I never feel weird interacting with a different culture from mine or a different age group. I believe that is unique.

Weather

We have a saying in the Bay Area: if you don’t like the weather, drive ten miles. Yes, San Francisco Bay Area has micro-climates. One day, it can be 60 degrees in San Francisco, 80 degrees in Mountain View, and 90 degrees in Walnut Creek.

But the point is, the weather is almost always great. We rarely wear down jackets here because it just doesn’t get that cold. What I wear most days is a T-shirt and a sweater, if I need it. Wearing light clothes and flip flops makes me feel “free.”

Golden Gate Bridge

One thing I never get tired of seeing is the Golden Gate Bridge which spans from San Francisco to the Marin headlands at the mouth of the San Francisco Bay. It’s not really “golden,” but its vermillion paint, named “International Orange,” contrasts so beautifully with the green and gold landscape and the mineral blue water of the Bay that the effect is stunning.

I’ve walked across the bridge several times, and, one time—long before I was married, someone proposed to me in the middle of the span.

Recently, at the Presidio Park, my daughter and I sat in Adirondack chairs to gaze at the bridge under a cloudless blue sky. It was heaven on the Bay.

Postcards from Italy

You know that feeling you get when you’re incredibly happy? Like you have butterfly wings and have flown so high that the clouds kiss your face. Your chest is so open that you can blow a star across the sky. Your arms are so wide that you can wrap them around the moon.

That’s how I felt this last August when I was visiting Italy. When I opened the sliding door to the balcony in my Sorrento hotel room and looked down at the rows of boats in the harbor, the blue-green water of the Bay of Naples, and the rising cone of Mount Vesuvius across the Bay.

Italy makes everyone happy. It’s incredibly beautiful. I wish you could have been with me and my husband as we boarded a little row boat at the bottom of a cliff off Capri Island so we could duck into the opening of the Blue Grotto and experience the most heavenly crystal-blue water. My heart was filled with elation as I watched my husband gaze at the water, the boats, and the walls of the cave. My heart quickened as I listened to the deep masculine voice of a sailor who sang an opera in baritone that echoed off the cave walls.

The people of Italy believe in making beautiful objects. In Amalfi, the streets were lined with shops that sold brightly painted ceramic pots, plates, plaques, and wall sconces. The blue, red, green, and yellow fruits and leaves on the pottery enthralled me so much that I couldn’t pass a shop without walking inside.

The architects and artists of Italy have been so prolific over the centuries that not one town in Italy lacks a beautiful church or fountain. When we toured St. Peter’s in Rome, I fell in love with the numerous doves holding olive branches in their beaks that decorate the walls of this catholic cathedral. The face of Mary on Michelangelo’s Pieta is such a beautiful example of a mother’s love for her child that my heart expanded as I stared at it for twenty minutes.

My husband had never been to Rome before, so when we visited the Trevi Fountain, I showed him how to toss his penny over his left shoulder so he would be sure to return. I took a photo of him in front of the colossal Baroque fountain, mostly made of travertine marble on the back of Palazzo Poli, with two-story Corinthian pilasters and a scene that conveys the taming of the waters. Through my camera lens, I could see Oceanus framed by a massive arch, with the goddess Abundance on one side and Salubrity, representing health, on the other. Below these immense statues, gigantic statues of titans guided a shell chariot, taming the sea-horse hippocamp. Above all of this marbleized action, I spied the story of the Roman aqueducts carved in bas relief. Tears filled my eyes before I had clicked the camera.

At one dinner during our tour, Theresa, our tour guide, gave me two post cards that she promised to mail for me after I filled them out. I wrote love letters to each of my children, addressed them, and gave the cards back to Theresa. After that, I promptly forgot about them since Italy had effectively mesmerized me.

When we weren’t gawking at architecture and charming alleys, we were eating. One day in Rome, I ordered a Napoli pizza with mozzarella and anchovies. The cheese was so light and creamy and the anchovies so fresh and sweet that I closed my eyes as I chewed—heaven on the lightest dough I’ve ever eaten. I sipped a bright Pino Grigio as I ate and my mouth had never been more fulfilled.

I’d never been to Umbria before, and so when we visited Orvietto, I was charmed by the quaint alleyways and stone staircases that led up to homes and shops. I was attracted by the beautiful mosaic cathedral dedicated to the Virgin Mary. When the sun hit the façade, the mosaics, gold, stain-glass windows, and bronze doors glowed like the entrance of paradise.

In Italy, charm is everywhere. We climbed countless steps in the town of Assisi, sailed along the coast from La Spezia to Cinque Terre, observed the Carrara marble quarries used by Michelangelo, and walked miles and miles on the cobblestone streets of Florence. We were enchanted by Ponte Vecchio in Florence which was lined with little huts last time I had visited. Now, it is filled with shops of glass windows to safely display the silver, gold, and gem jewelry for sale. One day, while walking to the Uffizi Gallery to see the colossal statue of David, we found an ancient window that had been used to sell cups of wine during medieval times.

Our last Italian stop was Venice, another place that my husband had never been. I dragged him across the city from our hotel, over one cobblestone bridge after another. Coming back, we found a piazza where an orchestra was playing music for tables outside. We sat down, ordered wine and listened to Gershwin and Beethoven for an hour, watching the sun change the shadows on the stones of the buildings as it trailed across the sky.

Italy filled me up with happiness. When I got home, I rushed out to visit my son at his studio a few miles away. When he let me inside, I noticed that he had tacked up the postcard I sent him from Italy on his refrigerator. My next stop was my daughter’s apartment. On her refrigerator, she had her postcard attached to her refrigerator too.

You know that feeling you get when you’re extremely happy? When you have wings and you fly high enough that the clouds can kiss you, you can blow the stars, and hug the moon with your arms? When I saw those postcards on my son’s and daughter’s refrigerators, I felt just like that.