Day 78 -- Friday, July 17

It took me awhile to find the City by the Bay, not to locate it but to recognize it. I drove in late last night, having called ahead for lodging. I had planned on staying in a hostel here but they were all booked. I turned instead to a list of hotels in a budget travel guide I've been carrying with me. It listed several low-cost hotels and I assumed that if they met the authors' standards, they would meet mine. Can you find the chink in the armor of my logic? I selected one, the Sutter-Larkin, called ahead for reservations and directions and continued on my merry way, secure in the knowledge that I was all set for a weekend in San Francisco.

I located the hotel without too much trouble, but wasn't too pleased with its surroundings. This was one seedy neighborhood. It did offer one benefit, though; it appeared I wouldn't be lacking for company; several young women greeted me as I strolled along looking for the correct address. They were exceptionally friendly and seemed to find me terribly attractive.

I didn't much like the looks of the hotel, either. It wasn't terribly dirty, really, just rather worn and it smelled awfully of cats. I didn't see that I had many options, though. It was late and I didn't have a clue where else I would go so I checked in. I figured I'd hole up in the room for the night and then try to improve my situation by the light of day.

This morning, I arose, wrote a bit (always thinking of you, dear readers) and then began to scout around for new lodgings. Naively, I turned to the same guidebook that had directed me towards the Sutter-Larkin and began to seek out one of its other recommendations. I was strolling down Market St. near its intersection with Haight when I stumbled upon the Pension San Francisco. I stopped in to inquire about their rates and found them exceptionally reasonable but perhaps just a bit above my meager means. Still, they were immensely helpful, warning me against the hotel in the guidebook (shaky neighborhood) and pointing me instead towards a budget hotel directly across Market.

Allow me to interject here that I've encountered, in the course of this trek across the U.S., many natives of India who have gone into the budget hotel and motel business. They've gotten a pretty bad reputation in many areas, sometimes deserved, often not. It seems the cultural differences between the innkeeper and guests are often a source of misunderstanding; language problems, too, can create a gulf not easily bridged. This situation has led to the posting of American Owned, American Operated signs outside many inns across the country, a message that strikes me as more than a little reactionary; I would sooner spend the night in one these little Indian-run motels than in an establishment owned by right-wing, red-necked borderline racists.

That said, let me tell you about the hotel across the street. Its proprietors were indeed Indian, the accommodations were scruffy at best, their English was the epitome of pidgin, they were a tad cranky and the essence of curry in the air was of choking strength. Please don't misunderstand me, I like curry. I've lived in buildings where it was used extensively and often in cooking and it was never a problem. This was different. It was more than an odor, it was tangible. You could reach out and touch it, almost. You could hold it in your hands and form patties of it.

I was near the end of my rope. It was getting into early afternoon of my first of only two days in San Francisco and I was still seeking lodging. I thought it over: This neighborhood was a distinct improvement over last night's; the gentlemen across the way had been terribly helpful, even when it became apparent that I was not going to stay with them; their rates were pretty darned reasonable and they took American Express. I made my way across Market Street once again and checked in.

The Pension San Francisco is a newly remodeled European-style hotel in a quaint old building. The rooms are small but quite comfortable, bathrooms are down the hall (each room has its own sink and mirror) and the overall atmosphere is one of relaxation and casual comfort. The proprietors, Floyd H. Weldon and Sandy Dahle, are on the premises, ready and willing to help enjoy their guests enjoy San Francisco to the fullest.

San Francisco, like New York, is not an inexpensive town; to find a hotel with such reasonable rates in a desirable location (it's very near all forms of mass transit, from buses to subways to cable cars) is quite a find indeed. Floyd and Sandy also showed excellent taste and discretion in choosing to advertise in BRETTnews, I won't lie to you, but while ad space in this journal can be bought, my words of praise and commendation cannot. I do recommend Pension San Francisco. Give them a call if you'd like more information and tell them you read about them in BRETTnews.


Continue on the American Odyssey.
Return to BRETTnews.
Email us at: mailroom@brettnews.com.