I Left My Heart in San Francisco

 

 I fell in love with San Francisco last night. My feelings have undoubtedly changed, as drastically as a relationship changes when one says “I love you.” Suddenly the view from the campus, the city the ocean and all, is not just a pretty view—it is my view. I feel myself interwoven—I have walked enough steps along the beach, stood on enough busy street corners, stared at the city scape at night enough to earn a place. From my dorm room window I can see planes flying away, and instead of envy I feel pity. What a tragedy to leave such a place.

  Last night a group of friends and I ventured to Ghiradelli Square for late night chocolate samples (Secret: if you’re there around closing time, about midnight, they’ll give you any left over sundaes or cones). The chocolate shop itself is the best smelling place in San Francisco, with large basins of churning chocolate right out of Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory. The Square is picturesque romantic, complete with late night strolling, lit up fountains for wishing, old fashioned diners and a saxophonist somewhere around the corner. We devoured our chocolate products as we walked along the water, headed towards Fisherman’s Wharf as bright as a carnival off in the distance.

Once there I tried my first animal fry from In ‘n Out Burger (…interesting). I watched a street dancer reincarnation of Michael Jackson surrounded by a gathering crowd across the street. A man in a wheelchair put on a light display, throwing flashing boomerang toys into the black sky. I was handed a puppy, of all things, and allowed to swoon as he yawned and grew drowsy in my arms. We stopped to watch graffiti artists create $10 masterpieces, small fantastical worlds with the stars and planets spinning around the city. I am determined to go back, if only to see the world I now live in recreated before my eyes.

We quickly located the epicenter of Fisherman’s Wharf, finding a carousel still spinning, energy still brewing. We pieced together various scenes from the movie Big—we found both a fortune telling machine and the San Francisco equivalent of the piano in the toy store—a piano staircase that makes the accompanying sounds of the keys. But it was not until we walked along the pier that I officially fell in love.

The moon rose slowly over the sailboats creaking in the water. At times the moon was a bobbing party lantern, resting on a string of sailboat Christmas lights. We walked towards the Bay Bridge, over which the moon had launched itself, finding the closest pier. Can one ever help singing “When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie, that’s amore…” at a sight like that? In front of me was la luna over a sparkling bridge reaching into the night. Behind me was the city’s different kind of sparkle, the sparkle I could rejoin with a couple moments’ steps.

 The city became all at once the street performer and the puppy and the chocolate bar and the bridge and the moon and the faces of those around me. Standing perched above the black churning waters, so much life and light fought the dark fearlessly. Such sights and such nights inspire to no end. I cannot get enough of “I left my heart in San Francisco,” and I’ve taken up the romantic music of Frank Sinatra. This place makes me want to sing and dance and drink up life and love.