Asian Influences

October 28-30

Friday was another damp, drizzly day, so we went to the nearby Asian Art Museum. It is in walking distance of the hotel, but be careful, though. If you’re not in the know, you can take a route that runs through a less-than-chic area of town called the Tenderloin.

Among its colorful sights are drunks demonstrating nervous tics or arguing with the air.

We also saw a man who seemed annoyed by something, maybe failure of a cellphone. In any event, he threw the phone on the sidewalk and then appeared to abuse a man in a wheelchair. 

A woman who seemed to know him picked up the pieces of cellphone. The man in the wheelchair followed down the street catcalling after him. I believe they were friends.

We only saw fraction of the museum. It is on three floors, and it starts at the top with South Asia, art primarily of India.

We were in the Indian galleries for a while and then decided we needed something to eat. The museum cafe had mostly Indian food on the menu, and I suggested a chicken biryani, expecting it to be mild.

The dhal and naan may have been the better choice, but you can never tell about dhal. Sometimes it is made with red chilis floating in it.

Joanna was able to eat a bit of the biryani, but not much. So we shared an apple tart for dessert. The doughy crust helped cool off her tongue.

There was a special exhibition on the first floor devoted to the Ramayana. It contained works owned by the museum and others on loan from various sources, including the British Museum and private collections.

We joined a guided tour of the exhibit at three. The docent, Joanna learned, is a pro, a professor of comparative religions.

The exhibition focused on images of four main characters—Rama, the hero and the human incarnation of the god Vishnu; his consort, Sita, a goddess in her own right in human form; Hanuman, the monkey god who helps Rama; and the bad guy, Ravana, king of the demons.

Ravana presents a special challenge to visual artists because he is often depicted with 10 heads and 20 arms. The tiered Thai masks wearing crowns with faces on them are depictions of Ravana.

Besides ancient and modern prints, paintings, and textiles, the exhibit has video clips from movies, TV shows, and dances depicting episodes from the story. 

The tour lasted almost two hours, so we closed the museum for the day.

We wanted to try someplace new for dinner, so we went to a place about a block away on Geary Street called the Daily Grill. We shared a pork chop that weighed almost a pound. It was tender and delicious

Made more so by red wine. I had a few glasses at the Grill, and later bought a bottle of cheap Chianti at a small shop on the same street.

I still have some of it left.

Saturday we had planned in advance. We were going to take the L line to a section of the city called Sunset to see Joanna’s aunt and several cousins.

That morning, they called and said they would pick us up at the hotel.

On the way back to their neighborhood, we went through Golden Gate Park to a place called Stow Lake, which has just about anything you can want at a lake—artificial waterfall, a Chinese gazebo, boat rental, and a man playing the accordion.

We didn’t rent a boat but did take a few snapshots.

Back at Sunset, we met more cousins and set out in a caravan to Diamond Heights for dim sum. The place seems to be authentic.

Just about everybody there was Chinese, and that’s always a good sign. We had chicken feet and duck tongues in addition to the usual variety of dumplings and fried rice.

After lunch we all went to Twin Peaks, a park overlooking the city and the bay. We strolled around there for a while to take more snapshots. 

We stopped back at the house to regroup and then headed to the beach. Actually, we stood on a bluff overlooking the surf. 

There was a pool down below, and according to a sign, it is part of the remains of an attraction called the Sutro Baths.

There is archaeological evidence that for thousands of years Indians used to fish and hunt seals at this place. I assume the Sutro Baths came later.

There is a steep trail leading down to the water, but we took another that, we were told, leads eventually to the Golden Gate Bridge. We didn’t walk the trail that far, but did get some interesting views of a wind-blown grove.

Huge trees are bare all except for their crowns. The ocean wind prunes them and even shears off their outer bark.

We drove to the Golden Gate Bridge. We stopped at a lower part of the park there. 

We got a close look at the flora, which is a restoration of native plants. I don’t know what they are, but they are quite thick and beautiful.

We also watched people surfing in the bay.

Joanna suggested everyone go to another Chinese restaurant for dinner. 

We wound up at The Claypot House on Clement Avenue, in a neighborhood a little south of the Presidio that is a miniature Chinatown.

An interesting thing about this place is that it bills its menu as authentic Taishan cooking. Taishan is the district where Joanna’s family hails from.

I had never had the opportunity to try Taishanese cooking, so I was ready for anything. We wound up getting two claypots, one that included preserved vegetable with meat and another with chicken and mushroom. 

A third dish was rice with eel and frog steamed in a lotus leaf.

We also had a hot peppery soup with pig stomach. The waiter said it could cure indigestion.

Joanna and I came back to the hotel in a state of moderate exhaustion. I didn’t even want to go downstairs for a beer. I just tanked out.

Sunday morning it was pouring, but it was also our last chance on this trip to get to Angel Island and the immigration station museum.

There was a real downpour when we got downstairs, so we waited for five minutes till it passed. We got the No. 5 streetcar at Powell and Market and rode it to piers. 

We bought tickets for Angel Island, and were more than an hour early, so we went to a cafe for a snack.

On the way, Joanna stopped to take photographs the bay, so the photo of the day is “Joanna Goes to Alcatraz.”

We also saw a colony of sea lions near Pier 39.

We got back to the boat shortly before it shoved off, and passed close to the prison. There is an old sign painted on a retaining wall, “Warning. Keep Off.” Good advice. Those guys had guns.

Because of the rain, the boat to Angel Island was almost empty. We were among four or six people to land when we arrived.

A man on shore asked us if we planned to go to the immigration station.

Yes, that’s why we came to the island.

Another couple, whom we later learned came from Lancaster, Pa., also had come to see the station.

The park service guy went to get a van to take us there. 

We had come on the second boat. He told us that no one had gotten off the first boat earlier in the day. I think he was actually pleased to have something to do. 

We drove around the perimeter drive of the island. It’s the route that the tour tram takes, but that wasn’t running. 

Angel Island was a military base from before the Civil War. It later became the West Coast equivalent to Ellis Island, only its main job was to keep people, primarily Chinese, out of the country.

After the earthquake and fire in 1906, the Immigration Service asked the Chinese in San Francisco to come in and help restore the records that had burned up. Many of them were glad to do that, and at the same time invented relatives in China. 

The Exclusion Act was aimed at keeping Chinese laborers from coming to the States to take jobs. It did, however, permit immigration by the children of legal immigrants already in China. Those fictional relatives, mainly men, were brought over to the U.S. under fictional names, and were known as paper sons.

Chinese arriving in San Francisco were essentially imprisoned, for weeks or months, at Angel Island. They were interrogated by immigration officials who hoped to find a discrepancy in their answers that would provide an excuse to send them back.

The officials wired the families and asked questions. Then, armed with those answers, they asked the immigrants: How many steps in front of your house? Who lives three houses away? What kind of flooring is in your family’s house?

A discrepancy could send someone home. Some of the paper sons were sent to the U.S. as representatives of entire villages, which would pool money to send someone to Gold Mountain.

Gold or no, there was economic opportunity in the West, and the people back home knew it.

As a little girl, Joanna met a paper son who was sent back to China.

There were cultural clashes that no one expected. Doctors during medical exams wore white. That’s the color you wear to a funeral in China.

As we were driving along, the man from Lancaster related a similar idea of culture clash. He knows a number of Amish, who belong the fire department. The Amish, for religious reasons, avoid having their pictures taken. 

They opt out of group photos at the department. They won’t hold still for tourists who want to take their pictures. Unless you know what’s going on, you can’t avoid a misunderstanding. 

The experience at Angel Island was frustrating for the people detained there, and the immigrants gave vent to their feelings through poetry, which they literally carved into the walls. You can see the characters, some faint, some distinct, cut into the boards. One has been restored.

I believe this is the English translation:

Detained in this wooden house for several tens of days,
It is all because of the Mexican exclusion law which implicates me.
It’s a pity heroes have no way of exercising their prowess.
I can only await the word so that I can snap Zu’s whip.

From now on, I am departing far from this building
All of my fellow villagers are rejoicing with me.
Don’t say that everything within is Western styled.
Even if it is built of jade, it has turned into a cage.

The place is all so moving and beautiful, both for its simplicity and its grief. If you go to San Francisco, you can wear flowers in your hair or not. But don’t miss Angel Island if you have any chance to get there.

We went back to the Daily Grill for dinner. This time Joanna had a chicken pot pie and I had steak pie.

If you find yourself hungry near Union Square, remember the Grill is on Geary, half a block west of Powell. I’ve had two meals there so far, and both have been fantastic.

So here’s to good food, better drink, and lasting impressions.

God bless us everyone.

Harry