I started my exploration through this urban oasis from the center, and headed westwards with the intention of reaching the Pacific Ocean for lunch. It was, in hindsight, a tall order, particularly because I wasn't expecting to see so much floral diversity and equally as much faunal activity. There's no real mapped guide for such a significant location in this great city, so the innocent tourist such as myself, has to meander themselves through the lanes, in hope they are travelling in the right direction. What particularly striked me about Golden Gate Park upon entry, is that it's thought to some extent about the kind of visitor activity it's likely to attract; it's made large open clearings for residents to play ball with their dog, but also plenty of lush grass for a prepared picnic. For the tourists, these clearings serve as a good spot to find one's bearings again, before re-entering under a canopy of dense flourishing vegetation.
Particularly keen to find the United States' oldest playground area, I set off in search; eyes scanning the immediate vicinity for the frivolity of small hyperactive children, and ears tuned to the identifiable unharmonious screaming of toddlers whizzing down slides, and then the immediate outburst of wailing as they realise the ride has reached an abrupt conclusion or because they haven't seen an icecream van in weeks. I was half expecting to see, in large neon lettering, signs indicating where such a national treasure resided, but alas, nothing. Eventually after passing a few tennis courts, and a rather fine building presently holding an art class, I arrived at the oldest park here in the states. As I had feared, it didn't hold any uniqueness about it; I could have literally been anywhere in the world, and for such a monumental area in this nation, I was a tad disappointed.
The Conservatory of Flowers certainly didn't disappoint. It boasts a grand well trimmed lawn and some beautiful flowers, all of which are the product of hours of year round dedication from groundskeepers. Once again, the vista from the center looks completely symmetrical, or it would have been had it not been for the 9am shadows. It was on this little adventure around the exterior of such a gleaming palace of glass, that I came upon a congregation of Chinese gentlemen in suits, overlooking an act of human contortion. Whether it was intended to be a party piece for passing strollers or just an individual workout, he warped his torso in more ways than I thought physically possible.
The conservatory provides, possibly, an entrance into this great park, but this small accomplisment of architectual beauty was only a precursor to the main centerpiece. I made my way through this leafy world, along a small road, where cars packed with eager tourists ravaging to exit and start a jolly day out, passed me. Luckily, there's no large multi-storey car park here; cars simply use the sides of the road, a testamont to urban sustainability. I digressed along my journey, and eventually emerged at human structure again; this time, the California Academy of Sciences building. Gathering like wind-blown leaves at the entrance, was a small group of children, each gripping tightly on a leaf or a twig, or something else equally as floral. Through a small subterranean tunnel, and then I met a group of very exquisite fountains, encircled by a very generous number of seats. Not many takers today though, and I suddenly realised why. Around the other side of this alluring falling of water was a camera crew, two presenters, and several people perched on what looked like bar stalls, who I took to be the director and executive producer. I noticed a note of stress on a gentleman's face, the one who was now approaching me, and preparing to ask me to kindly draw myself away from the charming parkland architecture I had trekked miles to see. Yesterday I was very much welcomed in front of a lens; today very much the contrary.
I wandered past the Botanical Gardens, which felt the need to advertise just how many species it held, along with names of some that any horticultural amateur might possibly recognise. From the outside elevated pavements, I peered in through the gaps in between foliage. A wide range of plants maybe, but it just looked like one large green mass, as if someone had been set the challenge of experimenting just how many ways it is humanly possible to present this particular colour using vegetation. I was lucky to be able to wander around the periphery, and scrutinise pollination still at work! It must virtually be an all year round process for states like California.
By clambering up a steep hill, with the aid of a ground ladder composed solely of old logs, I approached the top of Strawberry Hill, and immersed myself in the beauty of Stow Lake. Once again, I'm amazed that in such an enterprising city, there's room for such a generously sized lake, even if it is artificial. I relished the tranquility whilst ambling along the path, spying the moon-watching pavillion from Taiwan, and savored the almost pefect reflections. Two stone clad bridges were icing on what was very fine section of Golden Gate Park. I sipped a hot cocoa beside the water, in the radiant sunlight, and then set off.
It's almost as if when planning the park's visitor interests, the committee stopped by for lunch where I had just enjoyed a hot beverage, and decided that the rest of the park was too much effort. I got that feeling when exploring the second half of the park, divided momentarily from the first by a bypass. (Bypasses just love gorging their way through natural beauty, don't they?) The remainder of my walk seemed somewhat featureless; a large football and athletic field being the only half-memorable aspect of it. I suppose in a way this is good news for those not wanting the fanfare of tourism that the first half of the park so clearly suffers from. Here, I passed a few joggers, cyclists and a group playing frisby, but apart from that, my only company were the birds singing their hearts out in the trees and the squirrels hopping from branch to branch. That reminds me: I haven't seen half as many squirrels here in San Francisco as I have in the other cities along this trip, or perhaps they've watched me coming and have prepared a hideout?
I consequently stopped less on the second half of my walk through Golden Gate Park, and arrived at the coast a lot sooner than I had previously expected; a good thing as my foot was starting to ache again. (I inspected it on a park bench, and all I can think of is edema?) Just as I left the park, and began to trot awkwardly over the sand of Ocean Beach, I spotted a windmill, and immediately I felt like Golden Gate Park had transported me back to England.
And there it was, the Pacific Ocean. I instantly became agape at it's fury; almost tempest-like waves were tumbling towards me, dispensing a cloud of spray into the air. I imagined someone dropping thirty cymbals onto a metal table, and the monotonous reverberating crash that would ring; the closest I could get to explaining the noise this ocean was making.
Sufers were riding these waves, and I stared as one by one, they would approach one too large and menacing that would sweep them like a clothes brush from their board and they would momentarily disappear into the foam, reappearing seconds later, dazzled but desperate to locate a missing board.
The dramatic hard rock coastline of this little corner of San Francisco will be the last I see of this wonderful city, as tomorrow I head to Yosemite National Park on a tour, and following that my southward adventure continues, with the next stop being the equally charming Monterey.
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