Wednesday morning I happened to be downtown for a work assignment. At noontime I was walking with a client down Market Street when I asked him where one could get a shoeshine. I told him how frustrating it was to come downtown only on weekends, when shoeshine stands are usually closed. He mentioned there was a guy just a block away that he saw people going to all the time.

After he and I parted ways, I found the shoeshine stand on the corner of Market and New Montgomery streets, just outside Custom Shop Clothiers. The man in charge, Larry Moore, was finishing a customer, so I was next in line. He looked pretty decent in his light dress shirt and tie, not quite the fly-by-night impression that previous shoeshine guys I’d visited had made.

It felt funny to sit on an elevated stand on a busy street with my shoes prominently displayed for all to see. We got to talking. I mentioned how I used to go to someone on such-and-such corner, who’s no longer there. He said people come and go; it’s a hard business to keep going. He talked matter-of-factly about how he formerly panhandled and held open the door at the nearby McDonald’s for spare change. He’s still homeless but said he’s grateful to have faithful customers who appreciate the work he does.

During the five minutes I was there, half a dozen men and women greeted him on their way by. His folksy, if slightly dour, persona makes him an interesting person to talk with. He ranted about Mayor Newsom and how the City was taking all his money because he didn’t have a business license. Of course he doesn’t, I thought. He certainly should, but it seemed like a typical by-the-book response from City Hall bureaucrats. For someone like me who sits at a computer all day and collects a regular paycheck from a large company, the world of the self-starting entrepreneur is a distant one. Even though I experienced the “lovely” process of applying for unemployment several years ago when I was laid off and began doing freelance work, I had a support network to assist me. Starting a business without any safety net or bank account—let alone “proper” form of ID—takes a certain amount of fortitude.

Larry seemed pretty upset about the whole situation but informed me that San Francisco Chronicle reporter C.W. Nevius was writing a column about him in tomorrow’s paper. I’m one of the few, apparently, who still subscribes to daily newspaper, so when it arrived, there he was—mentioned right on the front page.

C.W. Nevius's front-page article in the San Francisco Chronicle about Larry Moore

Nevius sure made City Hall look foolish, and Larry got his 15 minutes’ of fame, including a few $100 tips that not only gave him a lift but paid for a much-deserved week’s stay in a hotel. A follow-up article on Friday painted a happier tale in which City officials made it clear they got the message. (If he works things right, Larry could become an only-in-San Francisco sidewalk personality, like the 12 Galaxies Man.)

C.W. Nevius's follow-up (also front-page) article about Larry Moore

Last fall I read an article about Joe Azzolini in the paper. The man had run a shoeshine stand in the same location for 38 years, outside the Curran and ACT on Geary, and was seeing a precipitous drop in customers. Reading the article made me want to lace up my sorriest pair of shoes right away and stroll by his stand; reading some of the online comments about his surly attitude, however, changed my mind. Perhaps, at 77, he needs to retire.

Larry shined my John Fluevog Ivan shoes really well, taking care to avoid the white stitching so the polish wouldn’t darken them. I told him I’d be bringing another pair with me on Saturday. He said he’d be open; he keeps the same hours as Custom Shop Clothiers, whose opening and closing times appear conveniently in bold, gold lettering on the front door.

Well, today is Saturday and he was there. He remembered me from earlier in the week, and talked about how amazing the public’s reaction was to Nevius’s story. It’s funny how a repeat visit to a stranger like Larry can nevertheless create a certain bond that you normally do not feel with someone outdoors. Typical transactions with vendors last only a few seconds as you grab their wares and exchange money. It’s not conducive to a prolonged conversation unless you’re a naturally chatty type. But the five minutes spent with a shoeshine man is long enough to facilitate an interesting exchange about the economy, politics, or society with a type of person you’d normally never interact with, except maybe in a bar.

As it turns out, I bought a new pair of Clarks yesterday after work to replace my aging Rockports. In a few months I’ll go back and pay Larry another visit.

By the way, the Chronicle’s Frederic Larson took a great candid shot of Larry. I hope I’ll take a photo like that someday. It never occurred to me to aim my camera up when shooting Larry. (Perhaps it was because I felt self-conscious snapping my photos, even though he said he didn’t mind. I felt like a tourist.)

At least that’s often been my take on it.

I can appreciate how difficult it is to write anything under pressure, whether it’s a newspaper column, movie review, or novel. I have to admit I’m impressed by Allan Andre’s ability to tune out the distractions of the city around him as he sits at his manual typewriter and bangs out several stanzas of interesting text in a matter of minutes while you wait for him to complete his work.

Allan Andre at his poetry machine on Castro Street

The weird thing about this guy is that I already knew about him when I spied his typewriter stand on Castro Street @ Market in San Francisco today after emerging from the bowels of Muni. Somewhere (Leah Garchik or Jon Carroll in the San Francisco Chronicle, or maybe while listening to some local program on KALW?) I’d read or heard about this guy who takes your suggestions, types out a poem while you watch, and then ask you to pay what you think it’s worth. (His hand-lettered “Poetry While-U-Wait” sign in block letters gives himself instant, lemonade-stand-quality street cred.) A Google search on his name brings up precious little previous mention of him by official media outlets. (A few blogs, do: bettinaforget saw him in Montreal; singlewhatfemale and waxpartnership came across him in New York.)

At any rate, I knew what he was all about when I saw his wobbly, nondescript TV-dinner stand. Allan was finishing a piece for someone, who seemed happy with the results. When he asked me to talk about something that interested me, I naturally couldn’t think of anything coherent or interesting. I rambled on about loving San Francisco and its history, walking around town and seeing vestiges of the past here and there (old signs and such), and feeling sad when part of that past becomes lost to urban development (the Western Addition comes to mind).

He handed me my sheet and kept a carbon copy for himself. The words were nearly perfectly formed—no typos and no start-overs—yet conveyed plenty of character: uneven ink, filled-in n’s, o’s, and e’s—even a hole where an o had struck the paper. This page was unique, not a laser-printed digital copy. The date at the bottom: “6.3.09”. A stranger finding this page in 50 years might think that year was 1909. (Except for the “CA” instead of “Calif.”, but that’s a gripe from a perfectionist.)

I didn’t think I sounded melancholic when I rattled off my stream-of-conscious topic—and I’m not totally certain what his poem is supposed to convey—but I am amazed that he could string his words together while I photographed him (he consented) and others stopped in their tracks to see what this dude was all about. His poem was certainly worth the $10 that I offered him.

In the end, I think Allan gave me something he thought I was looking for: a poem that elicits a mindset of a man who experienced a past I never lived but wish I had.

Poem by Allan Andre

View of Gothic cloisters set against the rock

Considering the various modes of transport required to get there, we felt that purchasing the Tot Montserrat ticket was a great deal for 36,95€. Purchased at the tourist office at Plaça de Catalunya, it includes the Metro ride to the Plaça d’Espanya train station, round-trip travel to Montserrat mountain via commuter train, and finally a steep “rack railway” ride up to the monastery (elevation 4,055 feet). It also includes lunch in the cafeteria, a visit to the museum (which we didn’t have time for), an orientation audiovisual show, and (perhaps best) a ride on the almost-vertical (62-degree incline) St. Joan funicular to the tippy-top, where there was a fantastic view of the whole complex, and the valley below—as well as various hiking trail heads.

We were worried for awhile en route because dark clouds suddenly descended and rain pelted the train’s windows. We saw ourselves having a miserable time at the summit. Even though the sun came back out, the dramatic clouds remained with us throughout the day. (As we learned later, the rain didn’t spare Barcelona.)

Dramatic clouds at Montserrat

Large 16th-century basilica to explore with its impressive golden interior and self-guided tour of various rooms that lead eventually to...

...the Black Virgin (patron saint of Catalonia)

While there, we attempted to shoot a successful “dramatic tourist shot” for the Just Back From series in the San Francisco Chronicle’s Sunday Travel section. (Bet they’ll ignore it, just as they ignored our photo entry from Macao.)

“Dramatic tourist shot” at Montserrat monastery

At the summit there was a nature exhibit at the terminus of the funicular. Several trails departed, including one to a shuttered chapel and—even further up—ruins of older structures where hermits apparently lived until Napoleon’s troops hunted them down “like wild goats,” per our guidebook.

Funicular ride up to a summit overlooking the monastery

St. Joan’s chapel, built in 1893, and the site of a restaurant in the 1970s!

Site of the old hermitages; apparently there was an orchard in the vicinity, way back when

The view of the valley from here was fantastic; it’s definitely worth the detour from the main tourist attraction below. The vista wouldn’t have looked out of place in California—something I’ve thought about before on our trip here. I bet much of the California landscape looked familiar to the Spanish settlers who arrived three centuries ago.

Back at the monastery, as we waited for the rack railway to take us back down to the town in the valley, we visited the gift shop and marveled at the all the “artesan” chocolates, honey, infused liquors, etc. for sale. Seems the monks have lots of time on their hands to concoct all manner of treats.

The chocolate bars were particularly thick and heavy. Unfortunately, the consistency of the chocolate (which we opened only after our vacation ended) was not the best. We are used to smooth, dark chocolate; this stuff was tough and chalky, like all the other chocolates we bought in Barcelona. Seems to be their style—but not ours.

Simple breakfast to get us ready for the day: French press coffee (courtesy of Destination BCN apartments), strawberries, OJ, toasted wheat bread, and strawberry jam

Venturing out of the apartment, we decided to head away from the crowded, touristy area of La Ramblas and walk instead towards the Eixample neighborhood. (Few tour guides tell you how to pronounce this name; it’s something close to “ay-shample.”)

With our Insight Guides Barcelona Step by Step guide in hand, it wasn’t long before we found Passeig de Gràcia, a long, wide boulevard that I later learned led all the way, back in the day, to the town of Gràcia, which is now a suburb of Barcelona. After a couple of blocks we come across the famous Illa de la Discordia: a street block with three very different family residences next to one another, each designed by a different Modernista architect. Like much of the Eixample, however, this street is ruled by Antoni Gaudí, a man who seemingly did the most to influence the look of Barcelona during his lifetime.

Unfortunately, Casa Amatller was covered by scaffolding—itself wrapped by a huge advertisement—so the piece de resistance, Gaudí’s Casa Batlló, was rather difficult to see, let alone photograph, without the crass commercialism entering into one’s peripheral view. Even so, just looking at its exterior on a gray day, you can tell it’s not like your usual building from 1906.

Casa Batlló competing with a renovation project next door and a metro station sign in front of it

Partly because of the cloudy weather and partly because of the long line out front, we decided to save Casa Batlló for another, perhaps sunnier day, so we walked on and turned left at Carrer d’Aragó to find Fundació Tàpies. Although the building was closed for what sure looked liked renovation work (our guidebook said it has a gallery space and “smart library” in it), the roof is topped by an interesting, wiry piece that evokes clouds, yet has the outline of a chair in it. It was worth a look.

Fundació Tàpies (top) decked out with an intricate (OK, crazy) metal sculpture on the roof (bottom)

I imagine that walking around Barcelona is sort of like driving through New England in the fall: you get terribly excited by the first interesting sights you see, snapping photos here and there, and then later develop an “I’ve seen better” frame of mind just so you can get through the day without crawling along at a snail’s pace—or taking way too many photos.

Detour for lunch at La Bodegueta at 100 Rambla de Catalunya: an old-fashioned basement bodega serving tapas. We ate a variety of olives, the ubiquitous sliced bread rubbed with tomatoes and olive oil (pa amb tomaquet), fried croquettes, and cheesy pasta dish. The plain pear for dessert (with knife to cut it up with) was the star of the show in its simplicity. Smoking is unfortunately allowed inside but they were not too near to us. During tapas time worker types stop by to grab something and go on their way. We sat relatively near the opened doorway, so it was fairly bright and also near the action. It’s always interesting to see how a restaurant’s staff becomes used to the confined spaces and narrowly misses bumping into one another throughout the day.

Time Out Barcelona describes La Bodegueta pretty accurately:

This delightful old bodega, with a pretty tiled floor, is unreconstructed, dusty and welcoming, supplying students, businessmen and pretty much everyone in between with reasonably priced wine, vermouth on tap and prime-quality tapas. The emphasis is placed on locally sourced products (try Montserrat tomatoes with tuna), among old favourites such as patatas bravas. Expect smoking and shouting aplenty.

Back to the main drag, Passeig de Gràcia, we soon passed Casa Milà (La Pedrera), Gaudi’s other curvy masterpiece. Not a straight line in sight, except for the tourists queued up down the sidewalk. Because this building occupies a corner, and the light was behind us, it stood out more imposingly than Casa Batlló.

La Pedrera beckoning visitors to visit the rooftop and showcase apartment

We were pretty impressed with a building across the street from La Pedrera: very modern but evoking a similar nonlinear design. Coincidentally enough, we learned later that day at Casa Àsia that the designer is Toyo Ito, and it’s called Suites Avenue Building (photo on Flickr), built this year (2009). In fact, there was a model of this building in the exhibit! The undulations in the building’s “curtain” (I think it’s called) echoed similar “natural” forms on display in La Pedrera that are known to have inspired Gaudi’s work—so there may be a good reason why Ito-san chose that site for his project.

Suites Avenue Building by Toyo Ito, across the street from La Pedrera

Our guidebook mentioned a helpful hint regarding how to see some examples of interesting architecture in otherwise hidden places: visit old stores that are in former residences. Such was the case with Vinçon, an interior design store set inside a huge old residence with high-ceiling rooms, fireplaces, atrium, and outdoor patio.

Vinçon design store housed in the former home of artist Ramón Casas; catch the sight of the whimsical bookshelf (for sale) and fireplace (not for sale)

Out back was some amazing tile work next to chairs for sale. There was even a good view of the back side of La Pedrera, as well as other apartment buildings ringing the city block.

Tile work behind the Vinçon store (top, middle) and back side of La Pedrera (bottom)

Around the corner from Vinçon (down Carrer de Provença) was a lovely diversion: Casa Àsia, an organization dedicated to Asian culture, language, and studies. Seeing as we involve ourselves in Asian-related activities at home in San Francisco, it was particularly interesting to see the Spanish version of such offerings. Equally interesting, of course, was the building itself, Palau Baró de Quadras, built in 1904. Certainly not Asian themed at all, yet suitable for Casa Àsia. From the rooftop there was a view of Gaudi’s Sagrada Família cathedral in the distance. They have a nice (if smoky) Azulius café, which means it’s a great place for us to rest our weary legs after so much walking.

Lobby of Casa Àsia (top) and some Asian flourishes in the atrium (bottom)

Casa Àsia is right along Avinguda Diagonal, which either cuts right through the Eixample grid at a 45 degree angle or serves as the border between it and Gràcia. It seems like just any other busy avenue, except for some of the photo-worthy buildings lining its sides. In one intersection we spotted a large owl on top of a building.

Owl atop a building along Avinguda Diagonal

One blog I happened to find describes things this way:

Where Diagonal Avenue meets Passeig de Sant Joan you will find the Rotulos Roura Company building from the top of which this wonderfully weird 2D creature peers down. Apparently, it used to be a luminous advert for the company which develops and installs neon lighting. It used to emit hypnotising circled of light from its eyes, but since 2003 that’s been stopped—probably cos they found themselves with a bunch of pedestrian zombies standing outside the office every morning having been hypnotised the manic-eye-owl during the night…

Well, we’re pretty sure we saw other owl symbols during our stay there, so either they were all paying homage to this one “luminous advert” or else the owl seems to be associated with Barcelona or Catalonia.

Gaudi’s seminal work, La Sagrada Familia, has always struck me as a truly odd building. Seemingly in a state of perpetual incompletion, its towers look from afar like melting ice cream cones. It’s other-worldly. I had never understood its true scale: was it mammoth or just big? Standing before it in person was an eye-opener; like seeing Notre Dame in Paris for the first time, it appears smaller than you imagined it to be.

Façade of La Sagrada Familia from the park in front (top), detail of carvings (bottom)

We didn’t venture inside because we’d read it’s basically like walking through a construction site. Actually, it was towards the end of the day, and so we were content to see it from all sides from the outside. One question I have: How come the post cards seldom show all the cranes that surround it?

I couldn’t resist, so I combed through my digital library and found eight that I felt pretty happy with. Actually only about five really good ones. Can’t believe that out of 300 submissions mine was one of 30 (?) selected. Now the only question I have is where will I find room for a 30×40 print of this photo after the show ends?

The photo shows a peculiar scene outside the Saatchi Gallery in London while walking towards the London Eye on New Year’s Day, 2008.

Here’s more of that Eye:

Sometimes having a fabulous life is not all it’s cracked up to be, especially if you’re a disagreeable person. What’s the point of having friends if they put up with you only because they feel they have to?

Daniel Auteuil stars as François, an arrogant, cutthroat, ruthless (and middle-aged) antique dealer in Paris who thinks his life is pretty fabulous. One day when he’s at a dinner party with what he considers his dearest acquaintances, he’s mortified to learn the truth: that none of the people there actually likes him.

In fact, they don’t even think he knows what it means to have a friend, or even to be friendly. One obvious strike against him is the fact that he hasn’t a clue that his business partner, Catherine (Julie Gayet), whom he considers a close friend, is lesbian. He’s that unaware of those around him.

Catherine bets him that he has, in fact, no friends. Not even a best friend. Stung by this accusation, François defends himself by claiming that of course he has a best friend. If he can prove it, she’ll let him keep a massive, expensive, and coveted Greek urn he bought earlier that day with the company’s money. If he can’t, it’s hers.

François seeks to prove them wrong, even if it means reinventing himself and lying to others along the way to make it appear as if he’s found his best friend. He looks up old friends from long ago, including grade school, who are understandably horrified to run into him again, let alone say anything nice to him. Attending a seminar by a best-selling author of a “how to make friends” book turns out to be a bust as well.

The only sign of hope comes from a chatty cabbie named Bruno (Dany Boon), who exudes an easiness and familiarity with complete strangers that François can only dream about emulating. He hires him to train him how to make friends fast, so he can eventually con someone into acting as his best friend. The two make a great pair.

Naturally, Bruno himself gets taken for a ride in all of this, and it’s François who must make amends if he’s to have any shred of humanity left in him when the deadline for the bet with Catherine approaches.

My Best Friend is an amusing exploration of a fear that is often uncomfortably real — that we don’t really have any friends when we think we do. Even though it resorts at times to unflattering stereotypes for comic relief, as when François encounters a friendless man at the “how to make friends” seminar (likely the weakest part of the movie), the film redeems itself by not becoming entirely farcical. It nicely blends comedy with drama so it’s serious when it needs to be.

A visit to the set of the French version of “Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?”, with real-life host Jean-Pierre Foucault playing himself, lends the film an unexpected touch of suspense, not to mention a dose of pop culture realism for French audiences.

Description: “From Burning Man to the Opera and everything in between, SF Station covers a wide range of the city’s arts & culture happenings. To celebrate a decade of promoting local businesses, artists, designers, musicians, film makers, DJs and promoters, SF Station is throwing a 10 Year Anniversary Party that showcases and encompasses what SF Station represents, from Nightlife, Live Music, Film, Arts and Fashion. The Teacherwiththebus.com presents short and feature length films by local film makers, film organizations and festivals.”

Date: Wednesday, December 13th 2006
Party: 10 pm – 3 am > Free w/ ONLINE RSVP
Location: Mighty Gallery & Nightclub, 119 Utah St., SF

SF Station 10 Year Anniversary page

(Photo by Andrew Mager, found on Flickr.)

I shot this film at the beginning of 2005 for Brook Hinton’s digital video production class at Film Arts Foundation. It’s taken forever to get into something sensible. Michael Koch, a student in the class, helped think of what to ask our very interesting interview subject, Alberta Straub—a fabulous bartender who works at the Orbit Room Café in San Francisco, coincidentally not far from the FAF class.

Read more about the film.

21st Film Arts Festival flyer