Stomping Grounds

One of the things I love most about San Francisco is how culturally saturated the neighborhoods are.  I love it when you step across that invisible border and all of a sudden the words on the buildings change languages, local advertisements posted on windows have a completely different flavor, passersby are chatting in a unrecognizable articulation, even the very feeling of a neighborhood changes.

Living in the Sunset for years, I never really understood how a neighborhood could be a "little Italy" or "little Russia," I just thought that people were being overly dramatic about the restaurant selection.  But it's true, I'm sitting here in Cafe Enchante, around the corner from my old apartment and listening to these two elderly Russki ladies chatting next to me.  It got me thinking... there are a crap ton of Russian people here!  And trust me, I love me some Russkis... they make the best neighbors!

Here you can find Russian bakeries filled with deliciousness, delis, funny little advertisements in Russian script (that I obviously can't read, but are very delightful to look at.  Я не могу читать России... see?), and so many interesting little nuggets simply walking down Geary.

The same goes for nearly every other area in San Francisco with all sorts of differing cultures, but the Richmond district will always be close to my heart. 

Working in the local hardware store, I made some interesting acquaintances.  One of my favorite stories to tell is of this stoic old gentleman who would come into the store at least once per week.  Even though I greeted him with a friendly hello and a smile every time, he never said a word or broke a smile for over a year.  A year!  Then, one day, I was having some difficulty with another customer who didn't speak anything but Russian and we looked at each other and both laughed!  After I got over the shock, we had a little conversation about Russian natives and I found out that not only did he immigrate here from Russia, he was a professional carpenter and owned the property around the corner.  He had a thick accent and I am pretty sure that was the only reason he had never initiated conversation with me.  I felt like I had just won something at a fair, getting this gent to speak to me!

But I think that's just how those Russkis are, and I love them for it!

Here's a photo of a White Russian cocktail since I couldn't find any good pictures of old Russian ladies!

And whenever I think of White Russians, I think of The Dude.  Or His Dudeness.  Or El Duderino...