I've been to plenty of beautiful cities around the world but none can make me smile in the same way San Francisco does.
I chose those words very precisely — "in the same way San Francisco does." There are cities that are perhaps more beautiful than San Francisco, and there are cities that are definitely better organized than San Francisco. But there aren't any cities that make me smile in the same way because there aren't any cities I've been to that are as playful as San Francisco.
I have such vivid memories as a kid of driving up towards Six Flags Great America in Gurnee, Illinois on the rare summer day, staring out the backseat window, anxiously waiting for a faint outline of some rollercoaster to peek over the horizon and how thrilling it was when the amusement park finally came into view, a skyline of steel squiggles shooting up through the plains like a suburbanite's Monument Valley. It's the best sight an 11-year-old can see besides a “2 for $5” sale on Cheez-Its.
It's the exact same feeling I get when I'm driving back home down I-80 and see San Francisco from across the bay. There's something so whimsical about the silhouette of the city that just never fails to amuse me. The way Coit Tower juts out from Telegraph Hill like a periscope keeping watch over the piers while its chiller brother Sutro Tower lingers behind it, flashing a peace sign down on the entire Bay Area. The way Salesforce Tower and the Transamerica Pyramid look like a tired married couple bickering over what the architecture style of the city should be, neither willing to compromise an inch. The way the Bay Bridge and the Golden Gate Bridge stick out from either side of the peninsula like arms, ready to bear hug whatever misfits make their way into the city limits. It all has such personality to it and looks as odd as the people within it.
But once you make landfall in San Francisco properly, you realize what seemed like a collection of oddities from afar actually has so much touch and taste in it that's impossible to notice until you walk up and down the city streets yourself. The way the breadth and chaos of Market Street perfectly frames the Ferry Building on one side and Twin Peaks on the other, letting the landmarks talk to each other like a string between tin cans. The way Golden Gate Park picks up all the hippies in Haight-Ashbury and winds them around four or five miles of cypress-lined trails before emptying them into the Pacific at Ocean Beach. The way the cable car line climbs up California Street with the steel Bay Bridge tower peering out from the top of the hill like — you guessed it — the peak of a rollercoaster. The way Alcatraz waits at the bottom of Hyde Street as if you could drive right onto the island if you sped down the hill fast enough. I could go on and on and on. There are so many places in the city where I look out and feel deep in my soul, "The city planner was smiling when they designed this part."
It's a certain kind of smile I only get in San Francisco.
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