When I first found myself in Chinatown I wasn’t going there to see Chinatown. I hadn’t really thought much about it since it was never recommended to me as a neighborhood I must check out-I was headed there to check out a restaurant.

I took the bus, which I don’t really think I was properly prepared for. As it got into the area the bus absolutely filled up with elderly Asian people who were not speaking English. I thought I had been on packed buses before, but I’d never been on a bus quite this packed. As Robert and I went to squeeze our way off the bus I felt someone’s hand press on my back, reach around, and squeeze my breast. I turned around in shock as I took the last step off the bus and saw a bunch of elderly men just looking straight forward, so who knows which one of them did it. I walked down the street stuttering, trying to explain what the hell just happened, and trying to shake off the creeps.

We headed down the street, still in shock and wanting to yell at somebody, towards the restaurant we’d taken the bus here to go to—and it was closed. It’s only closed on Wednesday. Excellent.

So, needless to say, I was set up to hate Chinatown. But then I didn’t.

The bus had dropped me off on Stockton. It’s a busy road and the sidewalks are absolutely crowded with people and produce. The great colors of fresh ginger, lychee, and foods I don’t know the names of are everywhere. The shop windows are full of baked goods and while you’re trying to get a better look people are shoving you down the sidewalk and saying things I don’t understand. On Stockton it seems I’m the only tourist on the street, which is a first since getting to San Francisco.

Despite the day’s rocky start, I decide to definitely come back to Chinatown, check out the restaurant, and the more touristy looking streets. A bit of research tells me that Grant is the main tourist stretch, and that at the beginning of the tourist stretch of this street is the Gateway Arch (Dragon Gate). The gateway is the only authentic Chinatown gate in North America and was built in 1970. What makes it authentic is that instead of using wood for the pillars it was built using stone (in addition to wood) and has the green tiled roofs. What I liked about the gate were the details on the green tiles, see the engravings and the animals on top?

Grant avenue didn’t quite woo me the way the produce markets on Stockton did. Grant is pretty much markets selling jewelry and people taking pictures at that gateway. It was strange to realize one of the things I didn’t like about it is that it was less crowded—since I’m usually looking for quiet places to step back and observe. Nothing’s ever quite what I expect, even my own reactions.

People hadn’t told me to go to Chinatown, in fact, some people specifically told me it wasn’t worth my time because it was too full of tourists. I went there early in the day, never later than early afternoon, which may have affected things, but I never really saw many tourists off of Grant and Washington streets.

It really figures that in a city where all the things I had expected to love turned out to be different than I had imagined I fell in love with a part of town I was told to not bother going to.

What have you found yourself in love with that you hadn’t expected?

The one thing about our time in San Francisco that was just what I had expected it to be like has been our apartment. This is exactly what I would have imagined an apartment in San Francisco to be like: small, expensive, and detailed.

Space is something that is very hard to come by in San Francisco. The man who works at our local corner store put it best when he said “It’s very expensive to live in San Francisco. These days you spend $1,600 to $1,800 a month on a studio apartment. What is that? You’re living in a box!”

With that in mind, I’m aware that we are very lucky to have found such a perfect little piece of San Francisco. In this older building on this quiet side street I am in the city, close to everything, and in a charming one bedroom apartment. There are hardwood floors, accent walls, and all the tiny details I would have hoped a San Francisco apartment would have. Come on in and I’ll show you around!

This is the outside of our building, I love the woodwork. The building reminds me of the Victorian townhouses I always saw on Full House.

Our front door is blue on the outside, but white inside. As you can see, the detail in the wood is on both sides. That stained glass window is on the wall once you come in the front door and is probably my favorite detail in the place. That planter box is outside of our kitchen window. I peek out this window and look at the BBQ on our neighbor’s deck sometimes. It’s the tiniest of spaces, and he has to carefully wedge himself out of his door with the BBQ there, but he still goes out there and grills on nice days. He’s committed to pretending he has a yard.

All of our light fixtures are very detailed. I used to not really care about what sort of lights were on my ceiling, but now I see why it’s nice to have something to look at when you’re in bed. The door handle at the bottom there goes to our bathroom and even though the handle is pretty well broken I like that it’s a glass door knob. The tile floor there is our bathroom (which we also have in the kitchen) and the foot of our claw foot tub.

That’s pretty much all there is to see (I told you it was small!) but I love my little piece of San Francisco.

What are your favorite types of homes?

When I started talking about my Paris Syndrome multiple people told me I needed to go to Dolores Park to experience San Francisco. I guess that because so many people were telling me (the tourist) to go to this park that I was expecting some manicured paths in a pretty, neat, and tidy little park.

What I actually found was basically a big field where San Franciscans go and sit, have picnics, and play frisbee.

And it was so much better than a neat and tidy little park, people! In a city where I’ve felt like I keep meeting all of these pretentious seeming people, there was just nothing better than this park.

It felt like something you’d find in a small town, except for all of those touches that made it so you were definitely still in the city, and San Francisco at that. There were city buildings and a nice view of buildings from the top of the hill, people were walking around with coolers offering to sell you a beer, and people generally seemed laid back and to be doing their own things. As with everywhere I’ve been in San Francisco there were tourists-I even took a picture for two on the path next to the field. But for the most part this was the most relaxed I’ve seen a group of San Franciscans since I got here.

And, in a little added touch of more what I had expected to see when coming to San Francisco, there was a twenty year old girl in a hipster dress walking around with a giant purse, her tiny voice ringing out “special brownies for sale!”