San Francisco - Day 13

August 30, 2004

Drowse until six o'clock and wake suddenly looking out of my side window. We race past shops; I recognize the hallmark of San Francisco's buildings. Within ten minutes we are at the Purple Onion on Northwest 2nd street. It's early and we park the vehicles outside the venue. We have a perfect view of the Trans America Pyramid located at the end of the street. Most of the crew sleeps in the vehicles and the generators are for the first time silent. It's a comfortable morning with mist rising high above the tallest buildings. A coffee shop across the road is open and we buy a coffee or two. The Purple Onion is dormant; all is quiet except for several road sweepers that roll back and forth across the empty streets.

09.00am and the large black iron chains are removed from the gates at our venue. Good-looking Italian speaking kids greet us. They must be in their early twenties and walk with a confidence all of there own. The owner arrives half an hour later and shows us around the small premises. Downstairs is good for the still studio but we have nowhere for the interviews. After two hours we find an office across the road, which suits our needs. Surprisingly, the street does not offer much foot traffic although I find interesting people nonetheless. Seagulls scream over our heads flying endlessly from building to building. A smart guy approaches me on a corner displaced from the café. He is unashamedly gay and seems an all round intelligent guy. He talks endlessly about his neighborhood and reminds me that these streets are smart because of the gay community.

'Power to the gay and lesbian community even though it is illegal to be gay in half of the states in this country,' he says flicking his silvery hair back behind his ears.

I stroll down to the venue and guide him with help from the troops into our studio.

'The battle is not yet won you know,' he defiantly reminds me says as he is shown the way downstairs. Walking away I can't help thinking that this town is about as gay as Oxford on a sunny day. We saunter along for the rest of the day fighting people's habit of looking straight at the pavement as if it was going to open up and eat them. There was not as much social interaction as I had expected. I adapted quickly and worked around this small hitch. For those I liked the look of, a shock treatment was in order. Walking into them seemed to reach a chord. One man so infuriated that he found it necessary to ask me for my name and number to report the incident to authorities. Later, in fact two hours later the same man approaches me insisting on an interview, which I grant him happily. Others find my approach 'charming' as one-lady comments and others outwardly warlike.

The day like every other day draws to a close with streets returning to a quiet murmur. Rather like London where late afternoon's in the city is always reminiscent of a Scrooge film scene.

1900 and we call it a day. Equipment flying past me at speed and excited crew members ready for dinner. I complete my final interview for the day and we head for the nearest Chinese restaurant.

I am overcome by thoughts of my friend and take a walk to the pier while my friend Doug graciously offers to collect my luggage from the Holiday Inn. This was used to shower and clean up and even offered the opportunity to catch up on international news although I did not have a chance to take advantage of the option.

We leave as we came in our armada; a caravan of vehicles so beaten and exhausted it was hard to find the original bodywork underneath mud and insects of all kinds. I was past worrying. Now we had the longest leg of the trip ahead of us. It is not all over. It is going to be very difficult. After six hours and no sleep I am in a dazed stupor. We have already had two fuel stops and the drivers look worn out. The air is changing and feels fresh and clean.

0500 and meadows and streams take on a new perspective. The ground fog hovers over the ploughed fields and cattle roam quietly. The landscape is quite beautiful, like a constable or Turner oil painting. I have two hours sleep under me and know I will not be getting any more tonight. I share in the driving but last only short intervals.