It's funny, that moment when you catch a person realizing they're not where they're supposed to be.
A well-to-do couple, judging by the looks of their SLRs and leather sandals, are enjoying a vacation in San Francisco. They are walking from Market Street with shopping bags in hand. After a block the man stops in his tracks, looks at his wife, then pulls out a map. This isn't the same district they were at five minutes ago.
Ever since my college days, I've had a crush on San Francisco. I couldn't tell you why in particular. Perhaps I could mention the iconic bridges or colorful crops of houses sitting on hilltops. Or how the water surrounds the city in a way that few cities can, a gracious blue blanket inviting both warmth and adventure. I was born and raised in Southern California, and I will always call LA my home. But I cannot deny the beautiful mystery of the bay.
I'm sure this San Francisco was more a making of my imagination than anything. It makes sense because whenever I visit the city, I get to pick and choose the places I want. Travelers are afforded this privilege. We are creators of the romance and we decide how to frame the city. But when you are committed to a city as a resident, you are called to embrace her in its entirety. The good and the not-so-good parts, as they are interlocked. You can still isolate yourself to the nicer pockets, the gated communities and what not if you choose, but when you do, it is intentional. You isolate yourself knowing full well the other side of the story.