Love Letters to Nopa and Western Addition

When I started at USF and moved into the NOPA, I fell in love with the neighborhood for giving my formally WASPY suburban stature; a little sass and chupunza, some edge and undefined urban “je ne se qua”. Or… was it the ability to stand on Victorian balcony ever year in costume to hose people down with a cocktail in hand, as they ran through the Panhandle for Bay-to-Breakers; or the close proximity to the DMV for dealing with parking tickets (paramount to City survival)… I’ve pondered if it might be romantic and hip to name my first born “Five Fulton,” because of the bus line alliteration and associated warm fuzzies I got from a five minute, stress-free, one dollar weekend ride to Union Square. Unexpected hidden gems of people and places bewitch this “hood.” For example, I stopped once to inspect an antique dresser sitting outside a Victorian on a “large trash day.” The furniture was charming, but the real prize was the elderly black woman behind it who was cleaning out her father’s underground “speak easy.” He had recently passed away and while she dismantled things, she showed me photos of all the old, local neighborhood characters that used to haunt it during prohibition. The décor was so cool that the window dresser for the Diesel store would have flown into a jealous rage. Sunday’s were a particularly poetic time in NOPA, as everyone woke to the sound of ecstatic gospel and skateboarding and with pangs of hunger from the smell of beef brisket, smoking outside in barrel grills since dawn and wafting through blocks of apartments and houses from B’s BBQ on Divisadero Street. Watching the ladies of the neighborhood click down the sidewalk in heels, hats and the most colorful of dresses and then dip into the numerous Baptist churches to bolt out songs that rivaled in skill with Aretha Franklin, made me feel like I was living in a Flannery O’Connor novel. I stumbled into the Church of John Coltrane (formerly on Divisadero), once out of curiosity and a love for jazz and had a guitar thrust in my hand at the entrance. I was instructed to jam for an hour with the other attendees (who were also assigned random musical instruments). I possess zero musical talent, but the creative joy of that experience will stand out in my life forever. Additionally, nothing was better on a cold, crisp weekday evening than slipping out of the fog into the dark, locally painted, mural-lined Fly Bar, playing pool all night and whispering “sak-it-to-me” to my boyfriend after too many “saki-tini’s,” (Saki cocktails in martini glass to skirt the beer and wine license) and then walking down Divisadero, to catch an impromptu reggae show at The Independent. Nothing except reveling in the ultimate soul food hang-over cure and best dive breakfast in town the next morning at Eddie’s Restaurant. A weekend wait of twenty people was standard, but completely justified as it was featured in Thrasher Magazine not once, not twice, but THREE times! It was manned capably by the unofficial neighborhood hostess, a beautiful Asian woman of 45(ish), who knew how to “work” a booth with her winks and the jukebox with her hips and owned the hearts of all “the boys” in the neighborhood, regardless of age. Despite the old fashioned counter and vinyl booth setting she wore only wore Chanel-like skirt suits to work and had an uncanny ability for remembering everyone’s name in the neighborhood and specifically what they ordered. Oh NOPA, my slightly cruel, but undeniably hip, big sister, thanks for spiking my milk, I love you!

A love letter to NOPA Neighborhood NOPA- aka North Panhandle – even by other names…. “Western Addition, the "Mo-Fil”, & "Lower Haight" even the more pretentious “Lower Pacific Heights”…... Your true flavors can not be modified! You reveal your altered states, perhaps...Transformed when your old painted ladies once were threatened by obnoxious urban re-development and were recklessly replaced by public housing and sixties cinderblock and aluminum. Thankfully you were rescued by avid "Victorian–Huggers" before your ultimate destruction was achieved! NOPA: Now A magnet for Urban Hipsters, Hip-Hoppers & Aging Hippies Home to: Happenings,Head Shops, Vintage Clothing Boutiques and once an incubation-location for Braindrops & the current site for Mr. Natural Music School plus numerous Internet cafes, populated daily by pierced or tattooed Laptop-wielding Java-slurping Caffeine-junkies just hanging out. I still recall my friend Loida’s praise refering to NOPA as a great “Doggie Neighborhood”. Her “Marmaduke-doggie” loves it for sure. “So close to the park, why not!?"...I ask. -Cid Young

6/12/09 Nopa, nopa, rope a dopa. Can’t find a place I’d rather mopa. Can’t find a place I’d rather be than in nopa nopa sipping tea. Lived in Sunset, Noe, Mission, North Beach, Bernal, can’t find a place much more communal. Like Missy Muffet this place is right, Because I don’t have to be wrapped all that tight. It’s an acronym that’s sorta bumpy A neighborhood at night where timid get jumpy It’s a small place upon the map Sometimes too loud to take a nap. There’s people here, good friends for sure That make me glad I’ve settled here. We’ll sit in Abir and drink caffeine We’ll spend the day upon the scene. I didn’t have a plan in mind, When I moved to nopa in my marriage decline. And NOPA, dear, NOPA, took me in. It’s got fog and heat and dark of night, there’s an art walk that’s quite a sight. We’ve got food, drink, coffee and cops, every café has laptops. Peg-leg fixies skid down the street, many girls I’d like to meet. I’ve done my Dr Suess, odd ball rhyming thing way too long, If my voice weren’t so flat I’d sing this song and I’d name it for where I belong - I’d title it, NOPA. Mike

Nopa Love To know Nopa is to love Nopa for all who enter - a child's laugh, a dogs wagging tail readily awaits you here at City center. Where Architectural details are as different as the faces, with no two the same from 1000 different places. Every crack on the ground tells it's own special story, from the wild old past to the new days of glory. To know it is to love the ocean's winds on your window, to walk at night; enjoy the scene or ride a bike. Teens with hoods strut by with a swagger, mom jogs right past listening to Mick Jagger - an old man remembers what was there before the dog grooming place and the organic grocery store. To know is to love cherry blossoms at your toes, fog horns in the morning let the Nopa Love flow.