Poking around Polk Street

Wednesday, my department spent our day hanging out on Angel Island for our yearly retreat. It was a gorgeous day, more like September than July, so I took my time as I headed home.

It occured to me as I was walking along, after imbibing a fine pastry and coffee with a friend at Polk boulangerie, that Polk Street is just about as perfect a cross section of San Francisco as you can get: one end sitting at a tourist destination, the other at the civic center; it edges the Tenderloin (and area known for its drugs and prostitution), past one Megaplex, past one indie theater, past bars of all manner and clientel, coffeeshops, a bookstore or two, odd little stores, junk shops, specialty shops, gift shops, second-hand stores, frame shops, all manner of restuarants from haughty french ones to the greasy Picaddily fish and chips shop.

It's a great street.