San Francisco

I’ve been in San Francisco for two weeks now, and I haven’t written a word about it. Even when I have things — loads of amazing, great things — to write about, I don’t write. The reason being, of course, that it’s precisely when you’ve got lots to say that the last thing you want to do is sit in front of a computer and write about it.

So I’m left with the impossible task of writing something vaguely interesting and meaningful that encapsulates the whole experience in one go. But right now I’m feeling slightly wrecked, I’ve had too many inputs and not enough sleep for two weeks now, and I’m feeling a bit fazed. Happy but tired, I believe is how people describe it. I’ve had two lovely weeks of working in the Googleplex and exploring one of the most complete and personable cities I’ve ever been to. Now I’ll be taking a few days off before I go home, staying with Nick and family, with no plan whatsoever.

How do I describe San Francisco? Right now I’m on the shuttle bus back into the city from work, and it’s night. It’s a great route once you’re off the freeway, past the airport on the right, which goes on for miles, and then the city seems slowly to rise up on either side. The road cuts a path right into the city, and now there are are other freeways slicing sideways overhead as we go under them. I like to sit in the middle back seat of buses. You can look straight forward, down the aisle and out the front window. If you try to widen your field of vision from this seat, you can kind of imagine the roof and pillars between the windows disappearing away and then you’re just hurtling down the road — try it.

Now we’re getting into the city and the road gets bumpier… my laptop is kind of shaking all over the place. This is the rough part of town. Signs, people, parked cars, shopfronts. I can’t see the dark purplish sky any more, because the tall buildings and yellow lights have moved in.

Here’s my stop.

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