In just a couple of days, I had the chance to visit two fairs: the Puyallup one, and the Folsom Street one, in San Francisco. They were very different, but both were helpful when I had to decide which city is my favorite. The winner is Paris, of course, but if you read the following lines, you may be able to find out why I preferred San Francisco over Seattle. The City by the Bay is sunny. And warm. And this has a huge impact on somebody’s mood. When you wake up and the sky is blue, you can’t prevent yourself from having a lot of projects. But when you wake up and the sky is grey, you can’t prevent yourself from staying in your bed.
Fortunately, Seattle has all these green trees everywhere, breaking the monotony of the grey horizon. It’s just that the sky of Frisco made me happier. And I needed it, especially when my computer got out of order. Suddenly, I was unable to communicate with the rest of the world, but also to Google Map this city I barely knew. I had to discover it à l’ancienne, with traditional means, like walking and talking to people. (My laptop is still out of order, so if you are Bill Gates, please repair it or GIVE ME MY MONEY BACK BECAUSE I FEEL DEPRESSED WITHOUT MY COMPUTER.)
Because of this unability to use my computer properly, I was not able to find out why they had replaced the Rainbow Flag in Castro Street by another one, made of blue, black, red, and white. And what is that Folsom Street Fair? And why all those men naked in the street?…
[Probably NSFW photos after the jump—Ed.]
…Is the city a giant swimming-pool where bathsuit is not compulsory? How come people wander naked in the streets whereas you don’t even have the right to walk with a bottle of beer? I asked a waiter in a restaurant if this was common, and he just gave me a look meaning: “Where are you from? Of course, it’s common, it’s San Francisco.” I now assume all San Franciscan are nudists loving bondage (where are the Republicans?).
Having read the Tales of the City series many times, I wanted to find where Barbary Lane could have been if it had been real, I went to Grace Cathedral looking for canibalists, I wandered in the parks searching for hermits, and walked along Castro Street to find Michael Tolliver’s shop. I didn’t find it, but I stumbled upon a lot of French people in the streets and in my hostel. It was surprising, because usually French people just go to New York, and when they travel to the West Coast, it’s all about LA or the Grand Canyon. I also looked for the Halliwell’s manor, but I discovered later that it was not in San Francisco at all. And I suddenly understood why the city was very different from what the TV show diplayed of it: the Charmed ones never put a toe in San Francisco. Liars.
Anyway, the French guys I found in the street were not the usual kind of tourists. They work as stewards for Air France (the airline company) and they came especially for the Folsom Street Fair. I asked what it was about, and they laughed at me. So French. I love them. They wouldn’t tell me, praising my ignorance, my virtue and my innocence. I was really perplexed, because I already attended the Puyallup Fair,
and it was not such a big deal. We have rides and animals in France, too. It’s just that we don’t mix them in a fair. And we don’t have hand sanitizers at every single corner. And we don’t have scones. But we have deaths: There is scarcely a year without at least one death in a fair. So ironic. And funny.
On Sunday morning, I prepared my camera and a bunch of bucks and walked to Folsom Street. I was expecting kids’ screamings, but I was welcomed with drums. And those naked guys in Castro, they were all going to Folsom Street, too. In fact, the sidewalks were full with people going to Folsom Street. I once observed this phenomenon in Boston—people walking like a zombie flock in the same direction—but it was for a football game. There was no stadium in this district of San Francisco according to my map, so I just kept on walking and wondering. And the answers appeared.
On a stage were naked guys playing Twister. On a platform, two men wearing leather were on their knees while another stood behind them, his hands on their shoulders, enjoying with delectation the sufferings inflicted to him by a woman with a whip. HUGE. And the whole street was full with that sort of shows, besides naked men all around and guys sucking each other in corners. This was the biggest and most incredible freak gathering I had ever seen. Like a Gay Parade but in a spanking-and-leather version. However, I was disappointed to see no fisting, since it’s a running joke between my best friend and I. And I am glad the Folsom Street Fair is unknown beyond your borders so I can bring my best friend there and see him beholding this display of debauchery and stupre.
Nudists and sun are not the only reasons why SF is better for a French Intern than Seattle. In France, I heard such good reviews of Wicked: the Musical that I desperately wanted to see it here. And it was not playing in Seattle but in San Francisco. Too bad for me, since the last performance was earlier this month and I didn’t have the chance to see it. I guess I’ll have to go to London to attend it, but I’m reluctant since I despise Britsh people much more than I despise American people. Charles de Gaulle used to see them as your little puppies, spying Europe internal affairs from the inside on your behalf. And that’s how we perceived Tony Blair’s decision to attack Iraq with you: a dog following the order of its master. And their accent is so British. I don’t think that Wicked sounds the same in New York and in London.
I missed Wicked but I saw Dreamgirls instead. Maybe not as marvelous, but marvelous still. I’ve never seen such a performance in France. You definitely beat us when it comes to shows and performances. I was bewildered, and stunned, and amazed. Beyoncé sucked as Deenah Jones in the movie, but the Deenah Jones I saw on stage eventually succeeded to give this character a personality. It was highly rejoicing. On the next evening, I saw another wonderful show, entitled: “Killing My Lobster Holds the Mayo.” It deals with your food obsession, and it is so true and accurate that every American citizen should see it.
I also enjoyed San Francisco because of the Pacific Ocean. Yeah, you have it here too, but the water is cold and the sand cannot be the same. I went to Baker beach, having a sunbath the way I would have done in some southern France villa. There, it really looked like holidays. In fact, that’s how I see San Francisco: a city for the holidays. I wouldn’t be able to live there since the dictatorship of the perfect gay is a heavy burden. Everybody is bodybuilded, has a dog, and waits in line to enter the trendiest places. Everyone wants to be the center of the attention and it looks like a perpetual competition. After a while, I felt a bit sad for them: This place is about welcoming people who are different. It is supposed to be a shelter, but in the end, it is but a mould.
They are different from the rest of America, sure, but they’re all the same.
In fact, I was more than delighted to be back home. In Seattle.
SF and Seattle have very similar weather. The winter in SF is a little more mild, but they aren’t particularly sunnier on average.
Just sayin’.
Well that’s nice and all, but how were their croissants?
You were so very lucky to visit San Francisco during the five days of our summer. If you had come the week before, or now, you would discover that San Francisco may have sunny skies but the temperature is usually low and there is a lot of wind, very uncomfortable for naked people on the street, certainly.
My kids enjoyed watching a couple of old goats fucking at the Puyallup Fair, so I guess it’s similar to Folsum.
No terrible smells? Surely you were sniffing every corner, every crack, every un-French like bistro. You are French- you can’t help but sniff!
I was in SF for Fourth of July Weekend. Standing on a little dock near Pier 39 waiting half an hour for the fireworks, it felt like the temperature dropped below freezing.
Oddly, a few miles south, San Jose and Palo Alto were warm and sunny.
Isn’t it building an urb upon sand to ignore sunshine?
@ 6, you understand that San Jose and Palo Alto have a mountain range between the ocean and their location, right?
#7
Yes because I drove that hair raising ride down to Santa Cruz and back again (at night) on the coast road so my son could make a booty call.
Best post anywhere ever. Merci.
San Francisco actually has a large French ex-pat community.
HA HA HA he thinks that sf has better weather. ha ha ha.
I can’t stop giggling over the idea of San Francisco being thought of as a sunny place.
Other than that, this is a really entertaining post. Thanks, French intern!
The hand sanitizer at the Puyallup Fair isn’t there to protect the people but to protect the animals from carrying disease from one to another.
You win this round, freedom intern
Intern is stupid, non?
“The hand sanitizer at the Puyallup Fair isn’t there to protect the people but to protect the animals from carrying disease from one to another.”
…and the hand sanitizer at the Folsum Fair is to protect what, the double ended dildos?
he’s black. he’s french. he must be so awesome. girls swoon. proposals to marry. but then, he writes. column after stupid dumbass fucking platitudinous column. BORING
and Charles de Gaulle had famously wicked turdbreath
Barbary Lane does exist (under its real name), and the actual steps were used in the TV series. And as others have said, last weekend’s weather was unusually hot. But then, it is almost always sunny and warm on Folsom Street Fair day — it’s the goddess’ way of saying the gay is good and kink is even better.
“The hand sanitizer at the Puyallup Fair isn’t there to protect the people but to protect the animals from carrying disease from one to another.”
So the Puyallup Fair and Folsum Fair are pretty much the same….
Since you went there, I’m going there: Lyon is WAAAAAAAY better than Paris when it comes to food, weather, sightseeing, and people.
I’m liking the French Intern better than I did in the beginning when he was bitching about french bread. Good writer (even in his second language) and a thoughtful guy. He’s a keeper.
If you’re from Sunset, it’s never sunny, but the rest of San Francisco is generally pretty nice…. Well, from July to maybe October, anyway. And you ran into luck concerning their beach – it’s usually gray as fuck.
Your judgement that SF isn’t a place to live is a little juvenile… SF has to be the place that’s the most hospitable to live. They really try to help the poor get decent wages, and to mobilize themselves upward. People get naked there because that’s just what people do during festivities. 🙂
Anyway, Seattle vs SF is a tie in my mind. I love them both.
As a Washington native who lived near San Francisco for the last few years, I’d like to point out that you’ve keyed into something very important with your last paragraph. The various “freaks” in San Francisco all fit into extremely specific niches and molds. Burners are all about “self expression” yet tend to dress and act in specific ways. The gay community appears to have similar constraints. People all tend to subscribe to the same set of liberal viewpoints without really thinking about them. The more you look, the more weird inconsistencies you find. Appearance and conformity is EXTREMELY important, perhaps even more so than places like Los Angeles.
Seattle is far more diverse, interesting, and relaxing. People there also seem to put a lot more actual thought into the choices that they make.
@7,
San Jose is also much more inland. Inland = blistering hot in the summer.
On Russian Hill, in a small side street off Leavenworth below Green, you’ll find Macondray Lane, generally considered to Maupin’s inspiration for Barbary Lane. At this point, none of his characters could actually afford to live on that lane, Lois.
Seriously, if the guy is an intern, can you teach him something about interesting newspaper writing?
Aside.
Lines like these continue to make me think that this guy doesn’t exist or is an actor in a subtle parody:
“The City by the Bay is sunny. And warm. And this has a huge impact on somebody’s mood.”
“can you teach him something about interesting newspaper writing?”
Please, his post is making a very entertaining, albeit unintended comparison, between Puyallup’s animal husbandry and the ass ticklers at the Folsum Fair. So let’s pass the hand sanitizer around and see what else he learns down South!
I’ve got too much to say, so I’ll try and keep it short…
During summer, San Francisco is one of, if not the, coldest place in the country. I think Anchorage has a higher August average high. It’s 30 degrees warmer inland, of course, and it rarely gets below 50 in the city, so it’s hard to complain about the weather here—but live here long enough, you’ll find yourself going a little bonkers longing for heat, longing for the Goddamned fucking wind to stop. In some ways, I’d contend there’s no where colder than SF, I’ve never felt a colder wind anywhere—but then, I’m not exactly walking around in my parka. It’s been 10 years this month and I love it here, regardless, and wouldn’t change it.
@24 – I’m not sure if you’re joking about Seattle being more diverse than SF, but I couldn’t disagree more about Seattle being more relaxed. I love Seattle, loved growing up there, but it’s anything but relaxed. If you’re not used to it, the comparative density of a place like this feels more like a grind, and might keep you on your toes a little (although friends from NY are always all “where is everybody?” when visiting), but don’t confuse that with judgment or pretense. You really can’t do much to gain the ire or a stranger here, San Franciscans usually mind their own business.
Also, @French Intern: it’s really not my department, but I can tell you via gay friends: Castro gay isn’t everyone, probably not even most. Like anything else, it’s just one scene.
“Castro gay isn’t everyone, probably not even most. Like anything else, it’s just one scene.”
Exactly! And the humping old goats you saw at Puyallup aren’t the whole animal husbandry scene either.
And also, thanks, I enjoyed this entry, and also thank you @14.
wait, you woke up in sf and the sky was blue? do you sleep in until mid-afternoon? because that is about when the fog layer starts to dissipate
Intern– a few people have mentioned, but here it is broken down. The weather in SF depends on the wind. Normally, a strong wind blows from Alaska, down the Pacific, and into SF. On a typical July day, the beach is about 50 degrees Fahrenheit and if you were to strip down, your balls would be permanently sucked into your abdominal cavity. You would need surgery to pry them loose.
In September, for about one week, the winds stop. The city can get hot and sunny. Folsom is held at this time of year because it’s a good day to get naked. Then, after a few days, the winter weather pattern asserts itself, and nobody goes back to the beach for a year.
I love the implication that the Stranger sent him to the Folsom Street Fair without telling him what it was.