The first time I visited San Francisco was with my family in 2009. I was around twelve years old at the time, so going to California might as well have been like going to Mars. We spent the week riding cable cars in Union Square, gorging ourselves on chocolate at Ghirardelli, and taking in the sights with windbreakers and a digital camera in tow.
Me and my family in front of the Golden Gate Bridge (2009)
At some point in the trip, I remember asking my Mom, “why does everyone in this city look like me?” I was referring to the fact that many inhabitants of the Bay Area are mixed race, like myself (according to a UVA friend, I am a “hapa,” someone who is half white and half asian - a common occurrence in California). Where I’m from in Richmond, I sometimes felt like an oddity based on my background, and being in SF felt good. I had a feeling, even back then, that I’d be back.
“It is an odd thing, but everyone who disappears is said to be seen in San Francisco.”
– Oscar Wilde
In 2022, after a particularly low point in my life, I decided it was time to move away from the East Coast - the place where I had grown up, gone to college, and started my career. Like many young folks who feel lost, I looked to the West Coast longingly. After securing a job that let me work mostly remotely, I decided to move to the one city that had been in my heart for the longest (besides any in Virginia or Maine, of course). It was San Francisco or bust, so I packed my bags, rented out my house, got rid of my car, and bought a one way ticket to the City by the Bay. I didn’t know what awaited me, but I did know it was going to be different. And that was an understatement.
A photo of me in one of my favorite places of all time, Duboce Park.
The first few months were a whirlwind. There was so much to do and I felt like I had to do it all. Make new friends, join a gym, find the local chapter of the November Project, and get my first hair cut. I was training for a half marathon at the time, so I even had a built-in excuse to explore every corner (and every hill) of my new city. I reconnected with an arch nemesis from high school, a friend from pre-school, and friends and neighbors from college. This sounds crazy to say, but most days truly felt like a vacation. I made best friends, played on ten different sports teams, ate one million burritos, and gained confidence I didn’t know I had.
Top: My friends and our league-winning kickball team in North Beach.
Bottom: Two of my best friends from San Francisco, Jot and Steph.
I picked up a new hobby, travelled to new places, learned from experienced mentors, and even went on a silent retreat. I rode a mechanical bull, had the best sandwich of my life, and, most importantly, was able to build much deeper relationships than I ever imagined. And despite the observation I made to my Mom a decade-plus before, the beauty of these people was that they were not like me. They had different views, backgrounds, strengths, vices, and aspirations. I felt a different kind of love in San Francisco than I’ve ever felt before in my life.
And for better and for worse, that’s what makes leaving this place so hard.
Top: Me and my coworkers at my goodbye lunch in Berkeley.
Bottom: My family visiting me for my birthday!
Even though I’ve only lived in San Francisco for less than two years, this period of time feels like a lifetime. Things are so much different for me than they were on that day I flew across the country, leaving comfort and the known world behind. My goals are different, my friends are different, and I have a newfound appreciation for following one’s heart.
My good friends Amanda and Becky at Patricia’s Green in Hayes Valley.
I believe author and journalist Gene Fowler put it best when he said “Every man should be allowed to love two cities, his own and San Francisco.” No matter what the future holds, San Francisco will always feel like home. It’s where I did a lot of growing up, shared a lot of love, and conquered many of my fears. And even though this chapter in my life is closing for now, I have a feeling I’ll be coming back to it many more times in the future.
On one of my first nights in San Francisco, a new friend and I drove from Nob Hill to Lombard Street and looked over the lights of the Bay. We had Sun Rai’s San Francisco Street playing on the stereo, and things felt so perfect. I wished I could hold that feeling in my heart forever. It signified that moving across the country on a feeling could work out. And even though I’m leaving those San Francisco streets behind me for now, there’s almost nothing in the world I’d trade my time on them for.
Until Next Time,
Noah Kim
Peaks Island, Portland, Maine
Credit for Inspiration of Title: So Long San Francisco by Glenn Yarbrough