The joy of wandering

This past weekend, my partner and I went shopping for something specific—we didn’t find it, some stores weren’t even open—but it became more like an amble. We began with a cozy cafe experience: creamy cappuccinos, an incredible Basque cheesecake, and a quiche. We also sat perched at the window, people-watching the mix of tourists and locals.

At a furniture store, I learned I have expensive tastes. Apparently, I love mid-century Danish teak credenzas and secretary desks. I also spotted a handful of Precious Moments porcelain objects, a brand I never thought would be a collectible.

I’m not a big shopper, but I did luck out with having a partner who loves browsing. The way I like to travel is to research some cute neighborhoods, maybe pinpoint a store or restaurant to check out, but leave everything else to the luck of the moment. But of course, you’re less likely to do this in the place you live.

We meandered down Polk St.—a shopping/dining street with the surrounding neighborhood also called Polk—and I stumbled upon an old camera tagged as still functional. I did a quick check to make sure the film it needed wasn’t wildly expensive, and then tried to open it before giving in and purchasing. Opening it would be a challenge for future Jenn (who did open it after two hours of dotting WD-40, thank you very much).

There was a pause for acai bowls because that Basque cheesecake wasn’t enough for me, and for donuts, too. Bob’s is an SF institution: the donuts are baked fresh throughout the day and it’s open 24h (a rarity here). They are not about the fancy cake donut flavors, but instead for traditional ones: my cinnamon sugar donut was a perfectly sized serving—no  Dunkin’ or Krispy Kreme giant here. Bob’s is also known for its giant donut challenge: eat a giant donut the size of one’s head or a pastry box in three minutes, and you get a T-shirt, plus a place on their wall of winners.

We were only out for a few hours, and the sun was shining the entire time. If you know SF summers, you know they’re cold and foggy. As I write this, I am wearing a thick wool dress with fleece-lined tights. The fog rolled in, and that was our cue to leave.

In my neighborhood, I have my favorite places, and I stick with them perhaps too often. I’ve forgotten a bit about what it’s like to land in a neighborhood and walk wherever my mind or eye takes me.