Four Hours In San Francisco
Before heading over the Bridge to Oakland
The morning traffic is passing the Ferry Building, the deadly whizzing of cyclists, taxis, and Ubers, delivery trucks, trams, and busses is the price we pay for living in a city, and once you are accustomed to their presence, soon, it feels like they are not even there.
Only an unpleasant jolt will rudely remind you they have not gone away. Yet, in all the years of living in San Francisco, one feature has failed to immure me: the beggars on the streets.
I’m sure I’m not the only one disturbed because I have heard many persons speak more than once of “this nuisance.” In fact, I have the notion that every San Francisco resident is haunted by certain beggars on our many streets who represent the whole tribe of homeless people who sleep on the streets.
There is an increase in homeless beggars around Union Square, Market, and Mission streets.
The desperate and homeless folks have been in San Francisco for many years. We only notice them because the construction has forced them to move along the roadside from where they had been before.
But it is impossible to simply label them beggars. Sure, the barely or warmly clothed women sometimes hold out knobby hands to receive coins or other offerings.
