Dear all,
Throughout the travels I have made so far, I am blessed with tons of stories to tell. I asked my followers on Twitter which travel story they would love to read. Within minutes my mother and stepsister responded, they’d love to read what they call “the Pizza-story of San Francisco”.
Enjoy!
During our trip on the US West Coast in 2007 we spent a few days in San Francisco. I really love this city! Of course LA and Las Vegas are nice places too, but to me San Francisco felt a bit like a home away from home. The vibe of the city is quite similar to Amsterdam, and with the gay bars and occasional scent of marihuana, San Francisco feels more and more like Amsterdam’s US sister.
We were staying at the Americana Best Western hotel on 7th Street, close to Market Street (which leads to San Francisco’s famous Union Square). One of the first things we noticed about our new environment was the amount of homeless people on the street near our hotel, yet we didn’t feel particularly unsafe in the area of our hotel.
On a beautiful afternoon, while enjoying my lunch on Union Square, I met a businessman from the area. We had a very interesting chat and he explained why there were so much more homeless people in San Francisco, especially compared to the previous cities we’ve visited so far.
With about 7.000 to 10.000 homeless people, San Francisco could be considered the nation’s capital for the homeless. Brian, the businessman, explains this is partially because the climate in San Francisco is a lot more pleasant that the heat of Vegas or LA. But part of the reason is that San Francisco is known for its tolerant society, and the city has more services and facilities for the homeless than most other cities in the US. All in all I found our conversation very interesting as it shed more light on the situation and the city I was in.
That evening my family and I had dinner at a pizzeria across the street from our hotel. Suddenly the door slammed open. While one guy held the door open, another one ran into the restaurant, picking up the left-over pizza slices from deserted tables. Within 30 seconds they were out the door again, he and his friend disappeared with their freshly caught dinner.
- The pizza restaurant in 2007
The pizzas were quite large, as were most of the meals we’ve had in the US, and we really couldn’t finish all of it. So when we were done I decided to put our left over slices in a box and give it to one of the homeless people in the street.
There are so many people out there, that I didn’t think I’d have to search for a long time.
I’d better think again.
When you want to help a homeless person by doing a good there, there’s no one to be found. It looked like they had all magically disappeared from the sidewalks. I guess that’s one of life’s practical jokes. After waiting a while, my stepdad suggested to leave the pizza on a mailbox so that anyone passing by could pick it up, but I wanted to make sure our pizza went to someone who really needed it.
Finally I saw a homeless-looking guy on the other side of the street. He wass a bit taller than me and he had a pockmarked face that was framed with a silver/greyish beard. The equally silver/greyish hair on his head looked like it hadn’t been washed in days, maybe even weeks, and the man’s body odour didn’t really contradict this suspicion. I asked him if he would like to eat our pizza, it was still hot. His brown eyes lit up and happy as a kid he thanked me with a big toothless smile. Wow, I made someone happy today!
He took the box and we both continued walking our own ways. As I crossed the street to walk back to my family I turned around for one more glimpse of the hungry homeless guy whom I made happy. The next thing I saw was him taking out his car keys, throwing his backpack in the back of an enormous, brand new, shining Ford pick up truck and and he drove off with what apparently was his car.
Even though he’s not a poor homeless guy, I hope he enjoyed the pizza. It would’ve been a waste to throw it away anyway. So far the story of me trying to help poor homeless people on the streets on San Francisco. My family likes to use this anecdote to make fun of me…
At least my intentions were good.
On the left our hotel, on the right the pizza restaurant (photo credits: Google Streetview)
The final sentence should actually be:
“My family, watching all this from the sidewalk across the street, nearly wet their pants of laughing!”