Here I sit in my North Beach home. I live in a hotel room in the Little Italy section of San Francisco. I have a turret room, that is to say a round room that sits on the corner of a three way intersection. It's my "tower of song" as Leonard Cohen might see it. Chinatown is essentially across the street from my turret. Off in the distance through one window I see Russian Hill, through another window I see Knob Hill, the next window over I see downtown with the magnificent and sometimes even mystical Trans-American Pyramid at the dead end of my street, and the next window over I can see Telegraph Hill where the Coit Tower overlooks both the Golden Gate Bridge and the Bay Bridge with impressive views of Angel Island and Alcatraz. All these great views from my little turret.
Little Italy is a nice place to live. Lots of Italian and French/Italian bakerys, outdoor dining, and plenty of gelato places where I like to treat myself to the occasional sorbeto. Lots of cafes and Italian restaurants and countless places to get a delicious slice of pizza. People visit this neighborhood from all over the world and I've been very happy to call this neighborhood home for the last seven months. I work pretty hard sometimes to make the bills as a busker, and rent is not exactly cheap in San Francisco, but this is a beautiful neighborhood to live in and is a motivating force in my daily efforts as a busker. If I ever need more motivation, I just take a walk around my neighborhood. Climb up Telegraph Hill and stare at the Bay and the two "great bridges." Then wind my way down the bay-side of the hill where there are lush gardens with gigantic flowers, plants and rosebushes that look like they came from outer-space. Then I remember one of the reasons that I am working hard. To maintain a happy life in a vibrant neighborhood such as North Beach is definitely a goal that keeps me pushing forward. When I wake up and see awesome architecture like the gothic buildings on Knob Hill and the imposing skyscrapers of downtown being lit my the morning sun busting through a veil of ocean fog, I am happy to be here and to start another day.
I live on the corner of Stockton, Green and Columbus. Typically, I start my busking day with a walk through Chinatown which begins right across the street. It's always a stimulating and colorful walk and sometimes even a bit of a challenge to work my way up the street past throngs of Chinese people buying and selling fruit, fish and everything else imaginable, pouring out of stores and into the street. By the time I hit the Stockton Tunnel, which I call the "singing tunnel," I am usually a bit relieved to get out of the crowd. Sometimes I grab a cheap black bean roll as a snack while I am walking. I like bakeries of ALL nationalities, and their are no shortage of Italian, French, Chinese, Mexican bakeries plus a plethora of "Ma and Pop" donut shops. It's hard not to sing when you walk through the "singing tunnel." The acoustics are so great! Late at night I like to sing doo-wop a cappella classics from my teenage years of a cappella singing. A few weeks ago I recorded a super-falsetto version of the Lion Sleeps Tonight with my Macbook flipped open and since it was late night post busking, only a couple cars went wooshing by and I got a funny recording.
When I get through the tunnel I am downtown in the financial district. A couple blocks later I am walking through Union Square where I usually see my friend Ron Coolidge playing his trumpet on the corner. He's the one who introduced me to North Beach in the first place. I was staying at the Fisherman's Wharf hostel, desperately craving some privacy and needing more sufficient rest then the hostel would allow, and I ran into Ron one night while I was out busking. He was playing his trumpet with such precision and great tone, with the command of a classical musician. At first, I just listened to him for about twenty minutes or so. Then after I tipped him and we got to talking, he told me about all these hotels in North Beach where people were living. I moved into the Hotel Europa the very next day and have been in the neighborhood ever since.
A couple blocks past Ron's corner at the park I am at Market Street and ready to go underground and see what the happenings are in the BART(Bay Area Rapid Transit) station. If it's quiet when I get downstairs my adrenaline starts pumping a bit as I know there is probably an open spot and it is time for my next show to begin. I get as excited as I can about sharing my music and hope that my enthusiasm is contagious. I crack my case, rosin my bow and tune my fiddle. I keep a lucky two dollar bill in my case for bait and begin to play the best that I can.
I leave the rest to fate.
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