SF is Worth Saving
My week in SF
I wrote this refection about my SF trip in about an hour to my 800 followers on X. It was just meant to be a final post about my sf trip, since I was living tweeting about the whole week. Unexpectedly it went viral, reaching 709.9k views, 2.4k likes, and over 350 retweets, very prominent VCs and players in Silicon Valley reposted the essay. It was all very overwhelming. My following doubled to 1,700, mostly tech and SF people which has been a double edge sword.
I’m not very political, though I am in some political spaces, and while I work in a startup, I’m definitely not a tech person, which I mean, my whole life revolves around tech. In my writing career, I see myself far more as a fiction writer than a non-fiction libertarian political writer, but something about the essay struck a chord with SF tech people. I think it was the fact that I didn’t pan the city, but pointed out the real problems with it. I think also the fact that I am from nyc helped too. The writing is raw and funny at times, I’m just surprised it went as viral as it did.
The vitality has definitely died down. I decided not to run with it, because I felt that it would be a bit grift-y. Nonetheless, I’ve decided to restart the substack and just periodically write more. SF is worth saving is a very raw piece, there are some things that I would change (most notably, I didn’t see a needle in Delores park, but a collection of pipes and foils scattered around). Everything is true, but there is some artistic embellishing. This essay going viral really vindicated my former writing practice and hope that you enjoy it.
In the middle of June 2024, I went to SF for a week. I went because I was working remotely, and I had the chance to see what it was all about. Constantly I heard "SF is so great, you have to move here for tech, it's the future, etc". I am a New Yorker, and I had never really spent time in SF, so I could only base my thoughts on Twitter and the news. I wanted to see it for myself. I stayed with a family friend in Menlo Park for the first half of the week. They are friends of my parents from business school. The first thing I noticed about SF was that the airport was actually really nice, clean, and generally welcoming. After driving to Menlo, I was truly and utterly shocked by the beauty of the bay. It was truly one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen. The nature is pristine and nearly everywhere. Menlo Park is pretty, but boring; the town is very small and expensive. Monday was my first day in SF proper. My family friend dropped me off by the Presidio. Again, I was shocked by the beauty. I walked to the Palace of Fine Arts and was completely overwhelmed by the architecture; it was like stepping into a painting. I also had breakfast at a very hip café, and the food was incredible. I walked around the Marina and made my way to Russian Hill. Russian Hill and generally the north of SF is very pretty and largely clean. I was surprised because I expected worse. The hills are insane though, and the public transit sucks. I was set to meet up with a X (twitter) mutual downtown and took a bus to Market Street. At the intersection of Market and Van Ness, several buses were late or just went by me without stopping. I walked up to City Hall, to try to catch one, but was running late. I went up to Turk Street and started to walk downtown to get lunch. What I saw was truly indescribable. I have been in some rough places in my life. I grew up in NYC, lived in Marseille, and traveled extensively in Eastern Europe. What I saw in the Tenderloin was the worst thing I have ever seen in my entire life. It was the closest thing to hell you get to experience on earth. In one block, I was transported to every government failure imaginable. People fighting to the death, zombies everywhere, public sex, nearly dead bodies - it was as if a war was happening. It was 11:30 am on a Monday, so the sun was shining above us, and I was slightly dehydrated and somewhat hallucinating. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. When people say it's bad on Twitter, they are understating; it's so much worse. I popped out on Market, and you could feel the pull of the depravity of the Tenderloin with people, zombies, defecating in the streets, shooting up in broad daylight. The whole downtown smells of human waste and eats at your soul. I met a long-time mutual and had a very nice lunch; I consider him a friend now. The food in SF is much better than in NYC; you can taste the ingredients and how blessed California is as a state. My friend recommended going to the Castro.
So I got on the train and went back uptown. Exiting, I walked into the Castro and was shocked. I have been to a lot of gayborhoods in my life, and I am a fan of LGBT culture, but the Castro was truly unique. It was perhaps the most over-the-top place I've ever visited. It was more vulgar than gay. Every store was based on sex; it was like being in Berghain, but during the day. The streets were largely empty in the early afternoon, but walking around and just reading the store names was entertaining, at the time slightly shocking, but now in retrospect, funny. I walked toward Dolores Park, and stopped at a French café, which was very beautiful. During my time charging my phone and working, a homeless man came into the store, started smoking crack, and just walked out. Next to me, there were two older women talking about how the city wasn't doing enough and how it needed to support the homeless more. These two events are obviously related. I walked to Dolores Park and was amazed at how beautiful it was. Sitting on the grass, in the sun, I could feel my soul uplifting, my skin absorbing the vitamin D; I understood the beauty of California. I turned to my left and realized I had almost sat on a used needle, then I realised the reality of SF.
I read and worked in Dolores Park for a few hours, then met another mutual in the Marina. The north of SF is gorgeous; the architecture was comfortable, tons of stores, young people, and families. I couldn't believe it was the same city. I went back to Menlo Park, the drive being uplifting and beautiful. The next day, I was again dropped off in the Presidio. I walked around, went deeper into the park. I was transported into an enchanted forest. To get to a place this beautiful in NYC, you would have to drive for a minimum of 2 hours, but in SF it's within the city limits. The Presidio was clean, beautiful, and full of life. I went to a high-end bookmaker, the Arion Press, and was given a tour. They make all the books, the print, and bindings in-house, and it was a religious experience. It was as if I had a conversation with God, and he spoke in beauty. I walked to Golden Gate Park, and again it was just gorgeous. The nature and energy uplifted me. The de Young Museum was wonderful and the Inner Sunset was a beautiful neighborhood, unlike anything we have in NYC. I needed to get some food, so I took a bus to the Mission. The Mission was essentially Mexico. I had a burrito, probably the best in my life. Midway through, a cockroach ran across my foot. The conversations next to me were about gay nightlife and AI ethics, comically San Francisco.
After eating, I walked to a record store, one selling records from South and Central America. The owner was a nice, well-mannered man, who obviously cared about the space. We talked for an hour about records and how he brought them to the US. Then midway into our conversation, a woman, in tattered clothes, missing half of her ear, with a recently shaved head, holding a large suitcase and a clearly used crack pipe, walked into the store and went on a rant for several minutes about how "they were going to find her, the satellites were going to get her". She was lost, for all intents and purposes dead, and the city, the country had failed her. She ran out of the store, hit her head on the door, and dropped her bag. I left the store without buying anything. I walked around the Mission, and I really enjoyed it. It had an edginess that you can't really get in NYC. I got more Mexican food, two tacos and horchata for $5, the cheapest meal I ate by far. Then I went back to the Marina, felt at peace, had a wonderful dinner, then went back to Menlo.
On my third day in SF, I meandered around for a bit, then went to a tech event. It's clear that the heart of tech is in SF. It's also clear that everyone in tech has the emotional intelligence of an oyster, the fashion sense of a child, and the delusions of Napoleon. The NYC tech scene is grounded. Tech is not the top dog in the city; finance is. In NYC, tech is cool if you work for Google, maybe Palantir if your date listens to Red Scare, but it's not at the top of the social hierarchy. In SF, tech is the only game in town. Everyone is doing a startup, doing research, or trying to save the world from AI. I met many cool, well-adjusted tech people, but I also met many more people who were none of those things. I left the tech event early, made my way to the Rincon Hill, and got a drink by the water. The Rincon Hill is a soulless part of SF. SF needs to build more housing; its fetish with 2-story buildings is unsustainable. However, walking down Folsom felt like walking in a ghost town. It was actually worse than the Tenderloin; at least the Tenderloin had people in it, albeit people who were barely alive. Downtown SF was a soulless ghost town. The next day, I met some old friends: one who worked at my old bank, one who now works at big tech, and one friend who is an artist. You can see that your work defines your life. My finance friend was upset he was here and not in NYC, my big tech friend had more money than she knew what to do with, and my artist friend was clearly struggling and was talking about moving. SF feels like a whirlwind, far more than NYC. Weirdness is encouraged, everyone is weird, there is no decorum, just social resentment of the other.
A startup friend's friend hosted me Thursday and Friday night. He had exited his company and was doing a further degree; he also loved club music. He had a $20k club sound system in his apartment in the Tenderloin, and as soon as I came in, he started playing techno. He started playing at 9pm and kept going until 9am. I slept through the music; I've slept in enough clubs to get used to it. In the morning, I walked to get some Vietnamese food at Saigon Sandwich, a place a friend recommended to me. I looked at Google Maps, but got lost, and came across another Vietnamese place that was opening at 9am. In front of it were around 25 homeless people, all on the cusp of death. I realised they were harmless. When you first encounter them, you think they can hurt you, but I realised these people had lost feet, eyes, the ability to walk. It was a field hospital with no nurses and no war. While waiting for the restaurant to open, I saw a man, maybe in his 40s? 50s? 60s? It was hard to tell. He walked up with a backpack, sat down, and pulled out several shampoo bottles. An older Asian woman came up to him and said "20 dollars! 20 dollars!" He said "No, 30! 30!" She handed him a 20-dollar bill and he agreed. She ran off. Immediately, he turned 90 degrees, handed the 20 dollars to a man, and the man gave him a bag. He started to smoke whatever was inside. He fell into a deep slump, like he was dead, but I saw him briefly smile, then he collapsed, and no one reacted. I left to go to the other restaurant. I found Saigon Sandwich, got 3 banh mi for $15 and went back to my friend's house. We ate the sandwiches as the music was blaring. I spoke to my friend's recent roommate. He was out of a job, and I asked him how he got there. He was kicked out of his old apartment because his artist collective refused to pay rent for 3 years. The landlord did the nuclear option and evicted everyone in the building under the rule that he couldn't rent to anyone for 7 years. The roommate then went to a sober living house in Oakland but was kicked out. I asked if maybe he should try being sober; he responded that he was going down the harm reduction route. I don't understand why he was trying to inflict any harm on himself, rather than stopping it. He was kind to me, and his cats were sweet.
Having barely slept, I was confused and tired. I wandered around downtown, talking to the homeless, but they were unresponsive, unlike in NYC. As I stumbled around, they kept saying "Basketball, man you gotta play basketball!" I got into an Uber and went to my friend's house. She was kind to me and let me take a shower and sleep on her couch as she worked from home. After, I went to get dinner with a friend. On the street, I ran into a person from my old college; she was working for an AI lab. Small world. Later that night, I went to the E/acc rave. It was in the south of the city, so I took an Uber. In line, I was talking with some men. They were very fit and very nice to talk to. It turns out they were artists/DJs in the city and their friend ran the venue. I skipped the line and went backstage to meet the cabal of gay artists. They were very fun to be around; they operated with a sense of emotional efficiency that was hard to find in other places in SF. After listening to the new Charli album with a group of 15 gay men, I ventured out to the party. The rave was weird. The gay men knew how to dance and were the heart of the party. Outside there were several tech booths, IV injections, new startups, overpriced drinks, and extremely overpriced merch. I met with one of my favorite writers and a VC who was interested in my startup. It started to make sense why people move to SF; everyone on Twitter is here, this is where it's happening. The tech people at the party had an air of anti-cool; it made me grateful for NYC. I was invited to the afterparty at the Midway. It was much stranger, much less tech, many more ravers. It felt like a Berlin party at 11am, but it was only 2:30. I left after an hour. I went back to my friend's house, and many Twitter personalities were there. It became clear to me that a very large portion of the city are grifters, and I was in the heart of it. The music was blaring, and I went to sleep, or at least tried to. In the morning, I got coffee with a friend, got an Uber to Menlo, slept for several hours, and took the red-eye to NYC, escaping SF.
San Francisco could be the greatest city in the world. That much is clear. It is in the most gorgeous part of the country, completely surrounded by nature. It is the birthplace of some of the most productive companies in the history of humanity, and the food is the best in the country. However, it is the worst-run city in the entire world. NYC has unserious liberals and SF has very intelligent and dedicated leftists running the government. The SF government took the pearl of America and turned it into a nightmare. Seeing the homelessness and general dysfunction of the city made me grateful and happy to be a New Yorker. Also, from what I understand, dating in SF is impossible if you're not a gay man, so don't try to find your partner here. That being said, if you work in tech or a startup, you must move to SF. NYC is a second but far less serious option to starting your company. Setting up in SF is a clear choice and one that increases your probability of success. That being said, if you care about your life, soul, and humanity… there are many other places to live in the world. NYC, Madrid, San Diego, Paris - the list is long of cities that offer a better quality of life. However, if you want your startup to succeed, move to SF. Many of the locals in SF do not realize how awful the situation is. Many of them are completely delusional about their material reality. It doesn't have to be like this. The best place in SF, the Presidio, is run by the federal government. It has none of the social problems of the rest of SF but all of the benefits.
I didn't expect to fall in love with SF, but it's like falling in love with someone who is in the throes of a deep addiction, and you know any relationship would be impossible. SF could be the greatest city in the world, very easily, and very quickly. Of all the places I visited, SF had the greatest effect on me. NYC cannot become like SF; the US cannot become like SF. The most beautiful place in the world was ruined by idiotic policy. In a sense, my trip hit me at my core. It was clear that many years ago life in SF was special, that it was perhaps a paradise, but now it's hell. As soon as you leave the airspace, you get clarity. Where the hell was I? What just happened? This place couldn't have been real. It is real, it is weird, and it is special, but it is clearly in deep pain and currently hosts the greatest humanitarian disaster in the US. In truth, I think the only way SF will heal is if the federal government comes in and takes control. This won't happen, so we will have to live with the consequences. I went to SF with very little expectations, with a slightly negative opinion from Twitter, but I left loving and hating the city. It's a special place; it's worth saving. SF is worth saving. SF is worth saving.
- Jamali Chaidani