POSTCARD FROM SAN FRANCISCO
Wooded stairways
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A climb up the Telegraph Hill is also a journey back in time.
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PHOTO: JANARDHAN ROYE
Panoramic cityscape: The Embarcadero from Telegraph Hill.
EARLY on an August morning in San Francisco, faced with thick fog, I was determined not to be bogged down by the dull conditions. Instead, I set forth to discover more of the amazing city. I set my sights on a tall tapering structure on a hill, something that was visible from most parts of the city.
Little did I realise then that the hill was a witness to much of the city's history — the earthquakes, the fires, the depression, the progress in signalling systems which led to the Bay area's prominence in information technology, the sea-faring men that landed on its white shores, and the South Americans that brought with them joyous red-masked parakeets.
Perhaps Robert Louis Stevenson, when living in Monterey, CA in the 1800s, observed transiting sailors from Peru and Ecuador, including some with parrots riding on their shoulders, and developed Long John Silver. Since then Hollywood has gone to town with swash-buckling adventurers complete with pirates with parrots.
Voyage of birds
A favourite bird was the red-masked parakeet. It had "beauty" and "brains". Sailors occupied themselves hours on end teaching the birds to "speak".
When word came from the richer parts of the world that there was demand for exotic creatures of the wild, birds, monkeys, panthers and so on were captured and dispatched to far flung places. A talking bird such as macaw or a parakeet commanded fancy prices. South American mercantile sailors saw these birds as a ticket to big money.
When they pulled in at San Francisco Bay, the warm greetings and lusty cheers were reserved for their merchandise as much as for their cages of birds.
By then the Native Americans had devised ways to tell friendly, cargo ships from the hostile arrivals through the "the Golden Gate". From the summit watch they kept a constant watch on the vessels and accordingly sent out messages to the rest of the community down the hill. When a mercantile vessel was sighted, the locals were duly informed. Trading shortly followed — of farm produce, custom jewellery, cloth, dried fish ... and birds.
Later, when Mexicans, and even later, the Spaniards subdued the indigenous people, trade intensified. For instance, the trading in tropical birds boomed and reached Europe. Such frenzied activities resulted in dramatic changes in the contours of the hill.
From the early smoke signals, the hill and the Bay area progressively embraced modern communication technology. By the 19th century, an optical telegraph, a semaphore, was set up on the hill. Today the name Telegraph Hill is still in usage. And the area has descendents of the early birds that flocked the place.
As I puffed and panted my way up the steep Filbert Street stairway that foggy morning, a reward was awaiting me: lively, exquisitely beautiful birds, Aratinga erythrogenys, the red-masked parakeets.
By then the intermittent sun had lit up the wisps of vapour breathed by the sleeping vegetation around me. The exotic wooded enclave had lush greenery and flowers and palm trees. Even the mossy surfaces on rocks were a respite from the noise and bustle of downtown San Francisco at peak hour. I was surrounded by the chattering, whistling, twittering and other "nature" sounds of cicadas, insects, birds, and water flowing. Around the public walkway are elegant cottages from one of which came the lively notes of Brazil.
Immersed in this setting, I was startled by the fluttering of a multi-hued parakeet. Soon, more red-masked parakeets came into view. These were the birds that have survived despite urbanisation and destruction of their habitat — from a lineage that stretches to the 1600s and the jungles of South America.
Awe-inspiring
At the top of the hill, I sat, catching my breath, and admiring the scenery. A large expanse of the bay and the city was spread out before me. Behind was the hill's tall tapering structure that I kept seeing from the Embarcadero, the Coit Tower.
The Tower has sweeping awe-inspiring waterfront vistas and stunning cityscapes, especially in the evening. From the top of the tower, I caught sights of ferries shuttling between the islands, and in the distance, colourful yachts dotting the bay.
Inside the Tower are murals, arguably the best of California's depression-era public art. The murals start at the lobby next to the gift shop, go up the stairs and around the second floor. Entitled Aspects of Life in California, 1934, they graphically bring home the pains and pangs of life during those tough times.
Each mural in the Tower was done by a different artist. The technique of fresco, applying colours to wet plaster directly on a wall, is the unifying influence of the mural. The artists adapted one scale and one palette consisting of elementary earth colours. The work carries the distinct stamp of the Mexican artist, Diego Rivera.
I was ready to head back. I took the Greenwich Street stairway. "Did you know that this stairway is just one of some 300 stairways that abound in San Francisco?" asked a chirpy guide, leading a group of mid-Westerners, "These stairways take you to parts of San Fran that normally you'd miss if you take a cable car or car. If you have the energy and time, take the stairways, folks. They are a great way to explore this city."
That may be, but the two San Francisco stairways that I had trekked had something special: exotic red-masked parakeets that can light up and brighten even a dull, wet day!
JANARDHAN ROYE
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