Chinatown

 

To me, Chinatown of san francisco is very much like a flea market: I never buy  anything there, but the sheer amount of "STUFF" makes me want to indulge in my ADD forever. The color, the characters, the shining, glittering, sparkling, jingling elements, flickering in their plastic, finite glory. So sometimes i take it to Grant streets to entertain me, either in the evening when everything closes, or on the way back from work. Sometimes, on the weekends, or during their festivals.

The posts, the murals, the neon signs and little grannies packing away their plastic bags of veggies. The bustling place never seizes to amaze me, even with the slew of tourists seeking, probably the same thing: novelty.

I mean, its totally kitsch. The same stuff sold, over and over again from Chinatown to fisherman's wharf, profiteering on the age old fact that, it is the oldest, and arguably the most authentic chinatown in the US. Small yes, but concentrated, and in that way, very cozy.

Stephen's parents visiting Chinatown.

Stephen's parents visiting Chinatown.

The mess of signage, color and neon is intoxicating.

The mess of signage, color and neon is intoxicating.