Every so often, Sam and I would have what we call "date night." I know some couples do this weekly or monthly, but we typically only do it when the fancy strikes. Last night, it was because we will be apart for four days starting today: he on a business trip, and me at my parents' celebrating the Chinese New Year. Four days is not long by any means, but it is the longest separation since we first started dating and he had spent a month in New York. My friend Steve used to mock us and say that we always wanted to be attached at the hip, and though it's not true, he's not exactly wrong, either.
Last night's date night took us to our favorite ramen restaurant in our old neighborhood, blocks from our old apartment. We dubbed it the noodle shop, and when we first found it, it reminded us of Waikiki, when we stumbled into a little hole-in-the-wall after swimming all morning and discovered for ourselves the best bowls of noodles we had ever tasted.
It was strange to be back in the old neighborhood, see the old building nestled between one tourist destination (Union Square) and another (Chinatown). It sounds absurd to call it the "old neighborhood" since we literally live less than 10 minutes away, but I think most San Franciscans can vouch for the microhood model the City lives by, and I would bet that many would understand our habit of staying within a three block radius for all our dining, shopping, and entertainment needs.
Kevin used to say that our old neighborhood was not much of one (obviously, Union-freakin'-Square not withstanding), and while I scoffed at it, citing Union Square as the very reason it is the neighborhood, I have to admit that he's right. It's not a neighborhood in a residential sense, and I realized that after moving to our new place, which itself isn't exactly a cul-de-sac, but feels so much more like a place to live with nary a tourist stop in sight (unless you're looking for leather bars).
But still, that old neighborhood was not without its charms, ones we could only fully appreciate after we left. While searching for parking, we drove by Grace Cathedral, a beautiful landmark that we had never stepped foot in, though we lived a mere handful of footsteps away. Parking was a pain, and it took us at least 10 minutes to find a spot last night. When we lived there, Sam would make laps around the neighborhood, cruise the streets before finding any spot, sometimes four or five blocks away. And our studio apartment was small; neither of us could stand anywhere that wasn't out of the other's line of sight. It all seemed so inconvenient back then, so annoying, yet it seems we now remember those days quite fondly.
But as Sam said while we passed by that familiar brown awning, the steps I once tripped and tore my pants on, he misses it sometimes because it had been the first apartment we shared. His nostalgia and sentiment actually surprised me, as he is not one to look back and reminisce.
I, however, am, and returning to that neighborhood, seeing the front door last night reminded me of one afternoon, sunny and warm, when I first moved into that building, when Sam and I had officially just started our second (and current) round of dating (another story, another time). I walked down Grant through Chinatown to buy some vegetables to throw in one of my disastrous meals, and as I passed Clay, I just happened to turn my head and found myself looking down a steep hill that seemed to run straight into the water. I caught a glimpse of the Bay Bridge. I had to stop and just look at it for a second, really see it, because it didn't seem real that I could see the water, that bridge, then walk five minutes and be home. It's a cliche to say this, but the sight and the thought of it really did take my breath away. I felt my heart soar.
I told myself then that I wanted to do this regularly, every week, walk down those streets and shop for groceries and stop to take notice of the beautiful things around me. And of course, I never did again, and now we've left and it makes no sense for me to go there at all, much less shop for groceries there. In a way, I miss the old place as well, though I haven't had a chance to really think about it since I've been preoccupied trying to settle in and be happy in our new one. Still, I remember that afternoon so well, the smell of the markets, the rushing crowds, this new and amazing City in which I found myself.
The noodles were delicious, as much so as I remember them being, and the walk back to the car was uphill and hard, also how I remember it being. It was a good date night.
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