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  Edition # 115  
San Francisco, 02-29-2016
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Figure [1]: Under some of the freeway overpaths in San Francisco, homeless tent encampments have been popping up recently.

Angelika Unfortunately, San Francisco has always had a large number of homeless people living within city limits. A variety of factors exasperate the problem: Cost of living is at an all time high, there's a shortage of affordable housing, and currently we're experiencing a full-fledged housing crisis in general. People who lose their job and don't have savings, quickly end up on the street, because there are no social safety nets. San Francisco is known for its liberal city politics and, despite all problems, there are a variety of services for the homeless. Clearly, they're not sufficient to deal with all the cases, but at least they exist. But San Francisco's very mild Northern California climate and the fact that there's no rain during the summer months, and no snow at all in the winter, makes some people think they can just pitch a tent somewhere on the streets and stay there. At the beginning of 2015, there were a total of 6,690 homeless people living in the city. As long as we can remember, every mayor has promised to get the problem under control, but every single one has failed to do so, or has quickly switched to other priorities after a successful election.

Figure [2]: Two homeless people repairing a bicycle.

And that the homeless have been setting up tent camps for years underneath various freeway overpaths in San Francisco is hardly news to anyone who's been living in the city for a while. There has been an encampment at the Cesar Chavez 101 exit for many years, for example. Passing by it on my commute almost every work day, I've noticed how it has been growing significantly during the last couple of months. Several days a week, there's nuns who are giving out food to the homeless there, and I've even witnessed them giving the homeless haircuts right there at the side of the road. I was quite moved by that. The latest trend, however, seems to be that the homeless are simply popping up tents right on the sidewalks in several central parts of the city. Until recently, for example, there were no less than 130 of these tents on the sidewalk along Division Street.

Figure [3]: Row of camping tents for the homeless in San Francisco.

The 101 freeway overpath hovering above Division Street protects the tents pitched below it from the elements in the rainy season. The neighborhood has never been a top dollar spot in the city, but it features several big stores like the electronics retailer "Best Buy" or the office suppy store "Office Depot". And then there's of course the famous independent worker-owned co-op Rainbow Groceries (Rundbrief 09/2005) right around the corner. Their 1968-generation type management team is usually fairly relaxed when it comes to law enforcement with the homeless, but even they've had enough in the meantime, according to reports by a local newspaper.

Figure [4]: Single tent with plastic tarp near Division Street.

There were reports of homeless people scaring away store customers, using supermarket toilets as their private bathrooms or tent encampments blocking loading docks. According to the store owners, it was not uncommon that a homeless person would enter the store and expose themselves or just start screaming. Many are mentally ill and should rather get medical care, but there's only very few locations offering such services. The Rainbow Grocery employees tried to get the attention of San Francisco mayor Ed Lee with this issue and pointed out the urgency, but didn't receive any help by the city. And Rainbow didn't even want to drive the homeless away, but simply asked for more sanitary conditions by providing more toilets and garbage cans.

Figure [5]: A homeless man makes a phone call.

Last week, however, city officials suddenly sprang into action and threatened to forcefully remove the tents. They set a timeline of 72 hours. At first, social workers tried to convince the dwellers to voluntarily move out of the tents and into the new temporary homeless shelter at Pier 80, which offers 150 beds, or rather 150 mattresses on the floor. Unsurprisingly, the shelter offer didn't seem to find any takers, although this particular facility is quite permissive, compared to other shelters: It allows the homeless to bring their pets and all their possessions, and partners can cuddle up in the same bed.

Figure [6]: Looking inside a sidewalk tent.

What's even more attractive is that the new shelter at Pier 80 doesn't need to be vacated during the day. And the city is serving three meals a day. Alas, many of the homeless find Pier 80 to be too far off. A few could be convinced to cooperate, and on Friday the number of sidewalk tents went down to about 40. On Saturday, only about 10 remained. However, most of the sidewalk campers simply moved a few blocks away, and pitched their tents there instead. Despite the ultimatum, SF police didn't show to remove the remaining tents. The city hopes that the homeless who moved to Pier 80 will stay there. I have my doubts about that. It's rather likeley that there's going to be a great increase in sidewalk tents again soon.

Perly Perlman's last resting place

Figure [7]: Perly Perlman: Last seen at the junkyard.

Michael In the previous installment of this publication, I had reported that a program run by the state of California had offered me one thousand Dollars to take my 1991 Acura Integra, nick-named "Perly Perlman", off the streets. I had somewhat tongue-in-cheek announced that I'd be reporting live from the junk press soon, and little did I know that it would actually happen this fast! But recently, Angelika had told me that our backup car started acting up while she was driving across the Bay Bridge, and reportedly had to stop and pull a stuck clutch pedal back up by hand, so I acted quickly and purchased a new commuter mule for her: a 2011 Honda Fit. There's a hard to ignore trend to three car households in the U.S., but we only have two garage spots available, and parking on city streets means dealing with frequent break-ins and car theft, let alone the constant hassle of moving the vehicle because of residential parking and street cleaning days. And for that reason, we had to say good-bye to our beloved Perlman, after 17 years of service, and at the still young age of 24. Boo-hoo!

Figure [8]: Here's the last resting place for old cars waiting to be scrapped.

So I dialed the number listed on the flyer sent by the Bay Area Air Quality Management District, got an actual human being on the line who explained the process: I had to make copies of the vehicle's title and the last three yearly registration receipts and fax those back to the program manager. Who keeps those receipts for the last three years? Turns out, Angelika had kept them neatly stapled together, but I'm pretty sure not many people are that organized. So I collected everything and faxed the copies back. Two days later, the phone rang and we were asked to schedule an appointment at a vehicle dismantler facility. The earliest available appointment was three weeks later, which sounded pretty crazy to me, but I agreed. On a Monday at 8 a.m., Perly Perlman was scheduled to be dropped off at a junkyard about two miles from our house.

Figure [9]: Der luxurious waiting room at the vehicle dismantler.

In the meantime, we had to park one of the three cars on the street, which turned out to be a whole production because of San Francisco's silly 72 hour rule. It says that you can't park any car longer than 72 hours on the same street block, even if street cleaning or residential parking regulations would allow for it (Rundbrief 03/2009). So we picked one of the few streets in the neighborhood not yet infected by the fast-spreading residential parking disease, and found a spot during a weekday, when parking wasn't in high demand, as it is in the evening hours when it's nearly impossible to score a spot. We put a so-called "club" on the steering wheel to prevent socially deprived adolescents from joy-riding. Every three days, we pulled up with another car from the pool, and switched places with the parked vehicle in a quick tag team move. No violations of the 72 hour rule were reported.

Figure [10]: The junkyard cat enjoys a hearty meal on the dismantler's work desk.

At the dismantler facility, it all went down very quickly and professionally. The owner briefly inspected Perly Perlman, drove a few feet forward and backward, and accepted without any complaints. I had to fill out half a dozen pieces of paperwork, submit the vehicle title document and the last three registration receipts, and was assured that within a few days, I'd be receiving a check in the mail. Lacking a vehicle to drive home, I got a Lyft Internet cab home, which was only five dollars plus tip. Three days later, a check over 1000 Dollars arrived in the mail.

Sedona/Arizona

Figure [11]: Rock formations in Sedona/Arizona at sunset.

MichaelAs a relaxing vacation during the break between Christmas and New Years, we set out to fly to the small town of Sedona in the state of Arizona. We had booked a vacation rental home and spent some time exploring the beautiful rock formations surrounding the area, famously radiating their intense red light. The desert climate in Sonoma presented below freezing temperatures, which really felt nasty cold to us, being used to San Francisco's milder coastal weather now. We had booked a standalone vacation rental via VRBO ("Vacation Rentals by Owner"), and since the consumer price index in Arizona is still miles away from the current inflated craziness in the Bay Area, we paid about as much as for a rundown San Francisco motel room, but got an entire house with three spacious and tastefully furnished rooms that would have slept six. The vast living room featured a real cast-iron wood-burning oven, which I practiced my fire making skills on every single evening.

At dusk one day, we wanted to hop into our rental car and drive somewhere, but noticed that it had been surrounded by about a dozen wild pigs digging around in the dirt near the parking spot. I darted towards the driver's door and jumped in, but then struggled finding the opener for the passenger door, which left Angelika locked out for a few seconds. She started moving erratically thinking she was going to be attacked by the pigs, but that was of course totally overblown.

Figure [12]: Driving into the town of Sedona offers great views at the majestic red rocks.

The city of Sedona itself is a small touristy place, featuring the usual useless art galeries to be expected in such places. Every day around four in the afternoon, tourists are heading back to town in droves from their hiking trips and cause miles and miles of stand-still traffic on the two arterial roads leading towards the village center, where everyone and their dog is later trying to grab a bite to eat at a handful of restaurants, which are unsurprisingly packed to the brim.

It was off-season when we were there, I'm pretty sure that Sonoma turns into an Octoberfest-grade party town during the summer season. What's sticking out from an automotive transportation perspective are the huge number roundabouts at various intersections throughout the city. Driving directions to our vacation rental mentioned about a dozen of them. An astonishing number of rural Americans don't know how to approach these and do silly things like coming to a complete stop with their monster trucks right before the roundabout, instead of simply entering when it's safe to do, just as if they saw an invisible stop sign posted in front. Honking usually helps.

Figure [13]: Cacti growing right next to the highway in Arizona.

The day before New Year's Eve, we drove up two hours to our old favorite, Grand Canyon. On the mountainous road at zero Fahrenheit, the cheap rental car's windows fogged up with a thick layer of ice and the car's whimpy fan wasn't blowing strong enough to clear them up, so we had to stop at a gas station to purchase an ice scraper. Unfortunately, the cashier confided in us that they ran out of out of ice scrapers entirely because of the weather conditions! Luckily, five miles down the road, we found another gas station somewhat off the beaten track which still carried the desired item, and we continued our journey with properly cleared windows.

Figure [14]: The Sonoma vacation rental offered great views of the surrounding mountains.

At Grand Canyon Village, we inquired about the trail conditions at the visitor center. We wanted to know if we could hike the so-called Bright Angel Trail, a steep path down to the Colorado River at the bottom of the canyon. As our loyal long time readers know, the two of us actually met in Las Vegas many many years ago and drove to Grand Canyon. Being a young lad back then, me and my buddy Huaba started at the rim and hiked all the way down to the Colorado River and back up in a single session. I remember that an Englishman in our group couldn't handle it and collapsed on the way up, a mile before reaching the rim. We had to climb down again and nourish him with Snickers bars to get him to continue all the way up. Ironically, this time we found that the trail description had been removed by the park rangers from the visitor center's maps. The fine print explains that it takes several days to complete. Haha!

Figure [15]: The impressive Grand Canyon in Arizona.

Figure [16]: Angelika on the icy Bright Angel Trail.

It was the middle of December, and the park rangers told us in no uncertain terms that the trail was quite icy and strongly recommended to get so-called "crampons", miniature climbing irons for the hike. Unfortunately, they were out of rentals that day, and we settled for two pairs of trecking poles at the unbeatable price of $2 (per stick), and set out to slowly stumble down the icy trail while holding onto them. After about two miles, the ice was gone, and we continued on the trail to a small hut, then turned around after 3 miles and went back up to the parking lot. The views in the canyon are pretty amazing, with the stair-like rock formations, with the total elevation difference being 6000 feet, while the canyon measures 18 miles at the widest section.

Figure [17]: Angelika crossing a small creek on the "West Fork" trail.

On another day trip near Sedona, we were hiking on the West Fork Trail, which wiggles across a small creek about a dozen times inside a narrow canyon. There's no bridges, and hikers need to cross the creek every time by balancing on rocks or fallen trees in the water. Some parts of the creek were covered with a thin layer of ice, cracking suspiciously while we carefully tippy toed across.

Figure [18]: Mike on the Devil's Bridge rock formation.

We also trotted up the trail to "Devil's Bridge", another popular Sedona scenic hike to a natural rock bridge. It can be crossed on a narrow trail with a gaping drop of a few hundred feet on either side. I'm not afraid of heights, so I went back and forth a few times, while Angelika stayed on the safe side and started worrying so much that the quality of the photos taken turned out to be terrible! Oh my!

Controversial Urinal in Dolores Park

Figure [19]: Dolores Park: Tinkle with city views.

Angelika We had mentioned in a previous issue that our neighborhood recreational area, Dolores Park, has turned into a major attraction, to the point where it recently started resembling Oktoberfest on the weekends (Rundbrief 04/2015). A while ago, the city completed its renovation to the sound of a whopping 20.6 million Dollars, and now there's bike racks, improved tennis and basketball courts, the lawn is brand new and offers lush greens, and significant number of restrooms were built. But because of the non-stop party scene on the weekends, the number of local resident complaints has skyrocketed, mainly because the neighbors don't find it very appealing that party goers kept releaved themselves onto their plants or doorways. The city reacted quickly and spearheaded a one of a kind pilot project in Dolores Park, namely the erection of the first San Francisco open air urinal, following designs popular in Paris, Amsterdam, and other European cities. It might not be too much of a stretch to claim that this project is probably unparalleled in the entire United States.

Figure [20]: Short line at the open air urinal compared to regular restrooms at Dolores Park.

Alas, it almost seems that the city ran out of money half-way through the project, as the pissoir in Dolores Park looks quite unfinished. It only consists of a semi circle of wired fence with a white plastic cover, but opens up to plain view in the back. The fact that the J Church train stops right at the pissoir renders this project a complete travesty. Maybe one of the city planners should have invested in a business trip to Paris to pick the local urinal guru's brain there before wasting a whopping $15,000 for this completely ridiculous knockoff in San Francisco.

At first, we thought that no one was going to use it. To be honest, it's a mystery to me how anyone would even recognize the new structure as a public urinal. But last weekend, we saw with our own eyes that it's become actual quite popular with the park visitors, and we saw a long lines of people forming eager to use it. The weather was nice and sunny and the park was packed with sun worshippers who, after consuming alcoholic beverages, apparently felt the need to releave themselves using the newly built urinal. Other scofflaws though still went about their business in the park.

Figure [21]: Long lines at the public toilets in Dolores Park.

As you might know, the Americans are a somewhat prude and litigious society, so it didn't take long for some obscure organization to come forward and demand dismantling of the newly erected pissoir. The conservative "Pacific Justice Institute" of Sacramento took issue with the fact that urinal users releaved themselves in a somewhat public location, and worried that passers by would see things they weren't supposed to see. Which reminds me of my first visit to the United States, when I noticed that retail staff in clothing stores would make sure the fitting room curtains were entirely closed whenever I accidentally left a small gap open while trying something on. Back then I found it pretty amusing, what's interesting with the issue at hand, though, is that it came up at all, since San Francisco is very different in this respect and naked people are not an uncommon sight in the streets here.

Top Product: Arlo Surveillance Cameras

Figure [22]: The completely wireless battery-driven surveillance camera by Arlo.

Michael When we're on vacation, I can't help but worry what's happening at home. Is the house on fire? Are burglars breaking in? Luckily, one glance at my cell phone shows footage from several strategically positions surveillance cameras, and I can relax because everything is fine and dandy at its place.

Figure [23]: A smartphone app shows live footage from several surveillance cameras.

I'm sure you know already that typical surveillance cameras are transmitting video footage over a wireless Wifi link to the hub, but unfortunately still draw power through conventional cables from the power outlet. This often complicates installing a camera in places where no power is readily available, like in the hallway or on the balcony, not to mention that lining your walls with power cables is hardly contributing to stunning interior design.

Arlo has solved the problem by using four long lasting lithium batteries in every camera, which is about the size of a child's fist. Thanks to a motion sensor, the camera is starting up as soon as an object is moving in front of it, and is recording between 10 and 30 seconds of video, depending on the user's settings. The movie data goes wirelessly to the base station which can be up to 300 feet away, and from there to a server operated by Arlo on the Internet. Archived videos can be watched by smartphone app or web browser, from wherever you might be located at the time. Arlo keeps archived videos for a month, and offers a download link on every recording, to allow the user to store the most interesting ones at home.

Figure [24]: Whoa! Movement at the door!

The Automatic phone app isn't exactly designer prize material, but works reasonably well. It's hardly surprising if you know that Arlo is now owned by router maker Netgear. Theyr'e known for good hardware, but seem to employ subpar software engineers to cobble together their user interfaces. I've configured the app to send a notification to my phone every time there's movement in front of any of the cameras. That way, I'm always up to date on what's going on.

Figure [25]: Four lithium batteries power the camera.

Batteries last about a month, but durability heavily depends on how often the camera activates because of movement. Since I don't like using throwaway batteries, I invested in rechargables at a whopping price of 8 Dollars per battery (!), straight out of China, including a special charger. The lithium format isn't as common for rechargeables yet, so there's definitely a premium to pay.

Figure [26]: Charger for the camera's lithium batteries.

One of our neighbors bought and Arlo camera as well and set it up in the crawlspace under his house. He was quite surprised to see what's going on down there at night: The footage shows a skunk sniffing and a raccoon romping around. Another videos pictures a cat returning to the home with a mouse in its mouth. And the camera at the front gate caught a butt naked party goer passing by. You can check it out yourself on Youtube, where our neighbor has put his Arlo security video collection for everyone to enjoy.

Figure [27]: The Arlo camera caught a skunk exploring the house's crawl space.

Figure [28]: Surfers at Mavericks taking risks.

AngelikaEver since Michael has developed a passion for surfing, I keep hearing a lot about what the surf conditions in Pacifica are like. Pacifica is located about 13 miles south of San Francisco and Michael often goes there surfing on the weekend. Almost every Saturday and Sunday morning, the first thing he does is check the surf camera on the Internet. The waves can't be too small, too big, too blown out, and have to meet a specific set of criteria, in short, it's a science in itself. Thankfully, he has a lot of respect for giant waves and stays away from them, but some of the best surfers in the world can't get enough of these monster waves and keep jetting around the world to chase them.

There's only a few big wave surfers, mainly because it's such an extremly high risk sport. Oahu's north shore has some of Hawaii's highest waves during wintertime, and just last week select surfers competed at "Eddie Aikau Big Wave International" with 40 foot waves at Waimea Bay. But even here in California, 25 miles south of San Francisco, just north of Half Moon Bay, there's a town called Princeton-by-the-Sea with a tiny harbor named "Pillar Point" that's hosting a yearly event called "Titans of Mavericks" if the surf conditions are perfect.

This year, the weather phenomenon "El Nino" brought the desired monster waves, and after a hiatus last year, Mavericks was on again. The competition has been around since 1999, but only happened 10 times since then because it requires perfect conditions for the surfers to start tackling the waves. There is a fixed limit of 24 participants for the contest, who are brought in on an invititation-only basis. The event date is determined on very short notice, and requires selected surfers to drop everything immediately and travel to California.

Figure [29]: Surfers pay dearly after falling off a monster wave.

On Febrary 12th this year, all stars were aligned and it was finally happening. Unfortunately, it's almost impossible nowadays to watch the event live at the scene, as the organizers have banned all spectators from the beach since in 2010 a sneaker wave injured several bystanders. Also, truth be told, the surfers are really far out there, visible only through strong binoculars.

The seven hour long Mavericks Live Video shows the best scenes. It's pretty incredibly how some of these pro surfers get pummeled by the waves. As a safety precaution, they're wearing inflatable vests, which can be activated by pulling a string like on a parachute, and then hopefully lifts them up all the way to the surface. If you've ever been caught in the white water of a tiny 4 foot wave, you can imagine how difficult it is in these situations to even tell where's up and where's down.

A few world class surfers have unfortunately lost their lives in the Mavericks waves over the years. Mavericks is the name of the surf spot, where these monster waves are rising. They originate miles away in the Pacific, where winter storms create high wind speeds, and waves then finally build up steeply near the shore where the sandy sea bottom slowly rises. Surfers name these special spots, like the famous "Pipeline" on Oahu, and "Mavericks" in our neck of the woods. Allegedly, it received its name from dog of the first person daring to enter waters there and tackling the big waves. Another surfer named Jeff Clark, a Half Moon Bay native, first started surfing the Mavericks waves at age 17, way before the spot became world famous. Nowadays he's operating a surf shop in Princetown-by-the-Sea, named, you guessed it, Mavericks. He prides himself of personally testing all surfboards created and sold on the premises in the nearby ocean.

Greetings from big wave country:

Angelika & Michael

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