Travels and Tales

Los Padres National Forest is a Rad Place to Spend a Few Days

Old Coast Road, part of California Coastal Trail south of Big Sur.

Maybe it's because I've spent all my California years in San Francisco, but when I want to take a vacation in the mountains, the central coast has always been one of the last destinations on my mind.  Mistake!  The mountains between Carmel and San Luis Obispo are plenty epic, but without all the to-and-from traffic that you have to endure with the Sierras.  Not only that, but the mountains are not buried under hundreds of inches of snow this time of the year, which makes the backcountry a little more hospitable. There's plenty of rafting to be had, the nights are not that cold, the beer's cheap, and the mountain biking is suburb.  Plus, you don't have to look at Sacramento to get there.

A good time, no doubt.

The climb out of the Arroyo Seco campground, home to a beautiful river, scenic mountains, rafting, white trash, and hella deer ticks.

Some old bridge I wouldn't recommend walking over if you've ever sat down on a chair and broke it.

Mission San Antonio de Padua

Rocks and wildflowers in Fort Hunter Liggett.

Apparently people in these parts believe in private property or some shit.  In fact, the owner of this particular piece of mountainside bothered to roll up to us in his thirty-thousand dollar SUV to tell us we were “very lucky” we didn't get shot for trespassing.  It was adorable.

Grassy descent into Greenfield.

Feel free to check out all the snaps if you're interested in such things.

Join the U.S. Army and Simulate Middle East Combat in Central California's Beautiful Coastal Range

During my bikepacking trip last weekend, I unexpectedly found myself riding through a live firing area in Fort Hunter Liggett, outside of the Los Padres National Forest.  Not as gnarly as one may think, although you have to bushwhack past some skulls and crossbones to get to some of the post beautiful rock formations in the area, so there's that.  Anyway, from what I can tell, the general public is permitted to explore the area when the military is not actively using the range, so be sure to make your way out there if you ever find yourself in this part of Central California.

Not sure why they had to make some of there targets look like mosques.

This setup apparently allows the military to practice firing upon trucks driving quickly through rubble-filled streets in the Middle East (in the distance, you can see how the truck begins to swerve around barriers).

Local Pinball Wizard Wins Big At Coachella

Apparently the 2010 sign was so aweosme, that Coachella just reused it again this year.

Local pinball ninja assassin type and San Francisco resident, Matt W., hit it big while camping at Coachella this past weekend. After entering the 4th annual Coachella Campground Pinball Campionship for shits n giggles, Matt went on to demolish the competition and win the grand prize; a pair of VIP tickets to Coachella 2012. The face-value alone of those tickets is worth more than what most Coachella attendees make in a week. Lucky, lucky bastard. 

This year's competition sported some RAD vintage machines (pic via Getty Images).

When I spoke with Matt, an old college friend, it turned out that he had been a ringer for the competition all along. Prevously unknown to me, Matt has been haunting the machines at Haight St and Mission District bars for the last year or so. When asked what his secret was, Matt chalked it up to the following:

“I usually play at Molotov's cause they have two machines in good shape and a good happy hour, sometimes at Shotwell's for the same reasons. Its all about practice and performance enhancing drugs.”

Now that he knows the greatness of his powers, I fear that Matt will begin sharking unsuspecting pinball enthusiasts and dive bar patrons for their cash. Look out San Francisco.

Matt W., tearing it up.

This is What Happens When 'Bloggers'/Failed Musical Theatre Kids from Michigan Invade Your Coastal City

When Broadway kids Andrew Keenan-Bolger and Dani Spieler won some Lonely Planet contest, they were asked to create a travel video documenting their trip to San Francisco.  After watching this gem about 5 times I can attest that these musical theatre kids have a seriously distroted view of what a video with a “campy twist” means, what comedy is all about, and how to act in a production outside of “Perez Hilton Saves the Universe.”  I mean, isn't musical theatre the definition of campy? Hey musical kids, I know this might be a stretch for you, but can you make this vid campy, k?  You guys would have been far more successful doing a Glee meets High School Musical tour of the Tenderloin. And I'm sorry guys, if you're renting your trendy single-speed bikes from Blazing Saddles, you've already lost the game.

Things I saw at SXSW

yeah it's been a few days but I had to recover a bit from all the drinking. Somethings I did at Sxsw this year involved throwing a trash can at the audience, smoked brisket tacos, a black eye, lost voice to the point when I yelled it sounded like the death rumble in my throat, throwing a beer at a girl's feet for rocking toe shoes in the club (I mean come the fuck on son!), fried pork sandwiches, starting a pit at OFWGKTA, chilaquiles, stood in lines, threw a dude into the wall for trying to mess with my wife, yelled at bands I liked, yelled along to Hard In the Paint by myself, peeing in some fucking police garden, who knows what else.

The best shit though had to be Trash Talk at the Fader Fort, motherfuckers where not prepared. Fader is probably too scared to ever do that shit again seeing as how they won't post the videos or photos of the performance. People were fucking crying because they didn't know how to deal with a hardcore band in the midst of their bullshit ass afternoon of caring more about free beer day parties than actually listening to fucking music.

anyways here is a list of artists I saw.

  1. Young L & Stunnaman
  2. Erk Tha Jerk
  3. Roach Gigz
  4. Mistah FAB
  5. Freddie Gibbs
  6. Bless & Eso
  7. Big K.R.I.T
  8. Killer Mike
  9. Trae
  10. Trap Them
  11. YOB
  12. Zoroaster
  13. Bird Peterson
  14. Telephoned
  15. Dillion Francis
  16. Surf Club
  17. Rapid Ric
  18. Big Freedia
  19. G-Side
  20. Toy Selectah
  21. Masakari
  22. Trap Them again
  23. All Pigs Must Die
  24. Spark Dawg
  25. B. Bravo
  26. Prison Garde
  27. Salva
  28. Buck 65
  29. DJ Eleven
  30. Lecherous Gaze
  31. Wormrot
  32. Trash Talk 
  33. Brenmar
  34. Starks & Nacey
  35. Toy Selectah
  36. Big K.R.I.T. with a band
  37. OFWGKTA
  38. Katey Red
  39. Vockah Redu

San Francisco Goes to Austin

Geographer playing at the SF Embassy.  Happens to be the only cellphone pic from the house that wasn't taken with Instagram. (pic by aGreatNotion)

Thanks to SXSW, the past week of crowd-free bars and restaurants in San Francisco sure was nice.  Hell, I think this was the first St. Paddy's day in years that Mission bars were not completely nuts.  And while a bunch of our SF neighbors were in Austin running around from show to party to bar to panel, meeting whomever and forming contacts until they passed out in their friend's chair at the Econo Lodge, a 150 or so Mission and SOMA kids grouped together at the SF Embassy.

The Embassy is an outpost for San Franciscans to enjoy San Francisco while being somewhere that isn't San Francisco.  The Ferocious Few, The Frail, Geographer, and Sugar & Gold all performed at The Embassy.  Local companies such as Trumer Pils and Popchips hooked 'em up with sponsorships.  Of course, most everyone there was a San Franciscan.

Wired Magazine caught up with the organizers of the Embassy, whom call themselves “Ambassadors” and are given roles at the space (such as “Minister of Transportation”), to get additional details:

Organizers passed out buttons last year so those affiliated with the SF Embassy could find each other in the giant festival’s crowds. They also enlisted Twitter’s Mark Trammell, who used to make shore-leave guides while in the Navy, to create a field guide relating San Francisco bars to their Austin counterparts. This year, they’ve created passports, pins and shot glasses, and set up each of the 11 rooms in their cluster to represent one of the San Francisco’s neighborhoods.

It was clear from the beginning that a group of that many Bay Area techies couldn’t get together and not create something more than just a crash pad, said Micah Saul, a Google ontologist and the Embassy’s minister of housing, who recruited his Metaweb colleague James Home to help with organizing after being invited by Benveniste, the chief ambassador. […]

It’s also a lot more fun. Talking with the Embassy’s organizers, it begins to feel like they’re a group of professionals planning a summer camp for adults. They talk of turf wars between “neighborhoods” (apartments), making new BFFs, having San Francisco bands play shows that they’ve organized and basically bringing what they love about San Francisco to Austin.

Maybe I'm missing the point, but I thought SXSW was all about immersing yourself in the Austin experience rather than broadening the SF bubble?  What about hanging out with people from Austin on their turf? The local bands? The local bars? The local corporate sponsors?  I kid.  But maybe these kids should exercise a little more modesty before anointing themselves the ambassadors of San Francisco.  To quote SF Embassy co-founder Gabriel Benveniste in Wired Magazine, “This is totally fucking self-aggrandizing, but I believe San Francisco is one of the most important cities in the world right now.”

The New Israeli 'Hipster' Comes With a Huffy, a Babysitting Job For Extra Cash, and a Gift Certificate to the GAP

This is the future of Mission culture:

The Hipster, A hand free Diaper pouch

Great when you are out with you kids (not just babies) leave your hands free to help your child in playing, sliding or at the swing.

There's some other jokes here, but everything I'm thinking of involves wearing Keffiyehs, Noe Valley, and Qassam rockets.

(Thanks to “The Big Bad Wolf” for the tip & pic)

Tales From the Mexican Party Bus

SCENE I: “Exclusivity is a Bitch.” by Kevin Montgomery

As one who appreciates the finer aspects of wearing $5 jean shorts purchased from thrift stores and paying $800 a month to live in a walk-in closet smack in the middle of a Latino neighborhood, I've always been fascinated by the Mexican Party Bus. Legend has it that it was started in the early 90s to provide a fun way for Latinos living in the East Bay to check out SF salsa and dance clubs. “A secret the Latinos of the Bay Area keep to themselves,” wrote one of the Bus's first Yelp reviewers. Then a few years ago, white people discovered it. Rental costs soared. Forever gentrified.

So there I was on a rainy Friday night. No plans for the evening. Standing outside of Dirty Thieves after drinking two 16s and a shot from the well, keeping my buddy company as he sucked down cigarettes. Aimless nights such as these never end well. Drink more well whiskey. Drink another pint. Get the brilliant idea to walk to Pop's. Swing into the corner store and buy a tallcan to sip on along the way. Get to Pop's. Do another shot. Do another pint. Wake up in your bed swimming in an ocean of misery and regret. Do it all over again next week.

As the crushing reality of the night's direction set in, the Mexican Party Bus began boarding for its departure from Dirty to some new and possibly exotic location. “Jon, this is a sign from God.” We do our best to blend in with the well-dressed crowd and board the bus.

This plan might have worked. But see, Jon was wearing a long trench coat to keep him dry and therefore looked sketch. I was looking like myself, which is inherently displeasing to the eye. We neared the back of the decked-out school bus—because that's where the cool kids sit—and were immediately called out for our lack of class, familiarity, and aestetic. “You're not supposed to be here.” “Yes we are, Kate invited us on. Kate's really nice.” “We don't know any Kate's.” “Yes you do… Kate Sheppard.” “You need to get off the bus.”

Called out. We turn to the front of the bus. The isles are packed with drunk kids. “Let's go out the emergency exit.” “YOU BETTER FUCKING NOT.” The assertive young chap kicking us off the bus stands up and gets right in our face. Last time a stranger asserted himself like that to me, I punched him straight in the face. Then I punched two of his friends. Then I got thrown through a glass table. I don't get into bar fights anymore. We walk out the front of the bus, knowing that some random Mission kids are not worthy of such adventures.

SCENE II: “The Mexican Party Bus: Cultural Anthropology Report” by Alan Fineberg

I was leaving Dirty Thieves, trailing after some blog bros I had been “chillin' with” and ready to call it an early Friday evening. Imagine my mild confusion when they were nowhere to be found.

Then, out of nowhere, two of said blog bros were kicked off of the Party Bus.

They dared me to board the bus, and because of my background in Anthropology I turned to Erika and said “I'll do it if you do it.” She said she would and so then I did but she didn't.

Now I am on the bus and the bus people say, “Were those your friends? They were d-bags.” They were, and they were. They said the bus was going to Alameda.

I waved goodbye to the “d-bags” and Erika as the bus pulled away. The windows were steamy and I couldn't see where we were going. Hopefully not Alameda.

  

I met some of the nice, trusting people on the bus, and conducted some participant interviews. They are interested in two things: drinking and dancing.

A third interest for some of the bus people was sitting languidly, hoping to calm their roiling stomachs as the bus lurched this way and that.

Two of the bus people got bored and decided it would be fun to kick me off the Mexican Party Bus, but I had buy-in from the other bus people and after a brief confrontation they admitted they were “power tripping.” Fortunately, I was permitted to remain in the bus and continue to live amongst the bus people.

The bus people were also interested in stopping the bus for frequent “piss breaks,” probably because the Party Bus does not contain a toilet.

After the third stop, I disembarked and found myself in the Tenderloin (which is not in Alameda). I walked out onto the streets of San Francisco, wondering when I would find myself suddenly on a Mexican Party Bus again, what I might learn, and where it might take me.

Cool Kid Travels: Seoul

Note: this guest column was written by Alyssa Perry, Mission District ex-pat

Six months ago, I packed my bags and got the fuck outta dodge with a one way ticket to Seoul, South Korea. Sure, I miss lazy days in Dolores Park, PBRs, and a drunken late night burrito from El Farolito. But to be honest though, the change hasn’t been that drastic except maybe for those methamphetine-laced hazy nights at Delirium (drugs are actually illegal here in South Korea…think of it as rehab with booze). I have been lucky enough to be living in a neighborhood which might mirror the Mission (minus the all the yellow people… good thing I fit in).

Exhibit A: Every day that I wake up and walk to the bus stop to go teach English to eager little children (weird, right?), I walk past the street art that is plastered across the walls of my neighborhood’s underpass. It reminds me of wanna-be street artists (think Banksy) that inconspicuously place their shit around the Mission.

Exhibit B: San Francisco is known for its snobbery of cafes and fair trade coffee kiosks. Good thing I didn’t venture far because I can see many kids in their leather jackets lined up outside Standing Coffee kiosk to purchase over-priced, burnt coffee. Or catch a glimpse of the masses at ChansBros on their trust-fund macs writing the next great screenplay about their lives abroad. It is really like being back at Blue Bottle or Ritual, respectively.

  

Exhibit C: The ultimate desire for a burrito can be found in the land of kimchi. As much as I miss the taquerias and a good Tecate (is there such a thing?), I can grab my fix at Taco Chili Chili. Sure it tastes like a regurgitated Mexican fart, but still it is something I can eat after a soju-induced late night.

  

Exhibit D: Although I may have left my friends and favorite bar hangouts, it doesn’t seem like there isn’t really a difference in my friends. It’s like they just got different names.

Left: Seoul cool kids. Right: Mission cool kids (photo by Emilie Furda).

I will admit that I sure do miss the resident homeless man who regularly took a shit on my stoop in SF. But there is one that sits in the famed underpass of my neighborhood. Except it is pretty much 7 degrees Fahrenheit and he hasn’t been there in awhile.  Also those wasted days at the 500 Club? Well I head over to the HBC, a local bar, and drink boxed wine. You heard me right. Boxed. Fucking. Wine. Consider it a good day if the drunk Korean owner is there and he whips out his penis in front of the bar (this has been known to happen on several occasions).

So if you are looking for a selfish, holier than thou life journey that allows you to teach the future of the world (since you know Asians will succeed at world domination), I propose to take your fixie, your pretentiousness, and your desire to drink shittier beer than PBR and hop on the next plane to Seoul. Us, former San Franciscans, need you.

Life at the End of Mission Street

Pic via Google Maps, because I doubt anyone with a Flickr account has ever been to this part of town.

Christopher Forsley wrote into The Rumpus to tell the world what it's like living just off Mission Street at the edge of San Francisco and Daly City:

My next door neighbor, Johnny Mac, didn’t go to university. He went to The Tenderloin and brought back a whore and a forty. The forty is long gone, but I can hear the whore over there right now. The hoarder around the corner didn’t go to university either. The only place she ever goes is to the park to leave amphetamine-pumped fish for our feral cat colony. The rats have vanished, but the raccoons are eating the fish too and will tear your eyes out if you look at them wrong.

Whenever I see a raccoon, I look the other way where the Mickey Rourke-faced lady is usually looking at her reflection in a car window. She went to university but came out vain. The obese man who waddles around repeating, “Masturbation and Doritos,” also went to university, but he didn’t come out the same. He came out insane.

Read the entire tale over at The Rumpus.  Scroll down until you see a picture of a fish with a needle stuck in its back.

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