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So remember how I said I was surprised that I didn’t smell the scent of Patchouli anywhere, and that I hadn’t found the more free-loving among us? Well that’s appearently because I hadn’t been to Haight (SL “Hate”) Ashbury yet. This famous intersection is the heart of the Haight section of town, known as the slightly sketchy hippie freelove epicenter of San Francisco.

After spending the morning walking the Mission, the birthplace of the city, I then headed north to be immersed by the retro influences of the 60’s. Besides anarchist bookstores (”We’re all volunteers so don’t steal”) and stores selling trinkets from Kathmandu, was the wafting odor of burning incenses and the not at all uncommon scent of a freshly rolled doobie.

It was certainly among the more interesting experiences I’ve had while here. If I had ever wondered where all the leather-booted, hemp-wearing, bead-adorning citizens of San Francisco lived, I will now look no further than the Haight. After the 70’s this area largely took a turn for the worst, as the hippie movement died down and mostly burnouts remained. Now, with renovations happening all around, the area is being gentrified while surprisingly holding a lot of that flower-power attitude.

At the end of Haight St. lay the vast Golden Gate Park. Although I was lacking the energy to walk it all the way to the Pacific, I did find a spot to sit and listen to the Rasta freestyling on cans and watch one San Franciscan woman go into a 3-Hoolahoop dirvish. However, the rougher elements of the drug scene did reveal itself as one drug dealer laid out another about 20 feet away from me, because of appearently unkind words at a party the previous night (”Who needs to be schooled, now? Say ‘I need to be schooled’!”).

I’ve walked a lot for the last two days, so I was glad to head back early and watch a little Veronica Mars and researching the CW, but I’ll be looking forward to spending more time exploring the Bay in the coming weeks, and maybe finally see the Golden Gate.