The Beaten Path

San Francisco embraces newcomers like nowhere else on earth because everyone is a newcomer. First came missionary Spaniards looking to spread the Word. Then came the Gold Rushers in 1849. After another hundred years, the treasure seekers had given way to the pleasure seekers of the Beat Generation.

Sure, the Mission still stands as testament to Frisco’s holy past, and the city’s thriving tech scene feels a lot like another gold rush. But the reason I’m going to San Francisco isn’t for God or gold – it’s for the good times. And to know where to go, I tread the Beaten path.

Happily, the relics of San Francisco’s literary past don’t appear to the naive eye: they have to be dug out and dusted off. I start at City Lights Bookshop (261 Columbus) – the authentic yarn-shop belonging to the timeless and tireless Lawrence Ferlinghetti, the last remaining lightning rod to the Beat Generation. While the generation has passed, its anarchic, non-conformist spirit lives on: meandering amid bookshelves I chanced upon a compelling talk about NSA surveillance.

I bolstered my bookshelf still further with a trip to the Beat Museum, just up the road at 540 Broadway. Alongside a definitive paperback collection, there are first editions and famous props from related films. I’m sure to pose with the car from On the Road – but only with brow furtively furrowed. I stick around long enough for the attendant to tell me about his own stories. This is, was, and ever will be a writer’s town.

I stop off for a sandwich, Burroughs style, at Naked Lunch next door, then head back down the road, with purchases in hand, to Vesuvio Café, a longtime Beat hangout. Don’t let the name fool you: the drinks here are hard – but the views back out towards City Lights and the Columbus sunset are sweet. I pull up a stool, point at a tap, pull out a book, and daydream that the writer whose words I now read probably sat in that same stool before I did.

Once the sun is low and spirits high, drift outside. The night is young, and it’s yours. Crawl the North Beach sports bars or Chinatown cocktail spots. If hunger strikes, slide into Taqueria Zorro for a burrito, My Canh for pho, Yuet Lee for some salt and pepper squid or – if it’s really late – to Sams’ for a burger. Wander home waywardly. You only get one night in San Francisco as a newcomer, so make the most of it.

Upon waking the next morning: I wince, wash, and repeat.