One day when I was walking around in the hills behind my house, I happened upon this bizarre street. It was as though someone had taken postmodernism and tried to make it into a block of houses. Each one has its own internally complete theme, involving strange colors and sculptural elements attached to the outside walls (gold eggs, wisps of wrought iron). This led me on subsequent walks to name them: the Corbusier House, the Barn, the Preschool Blocks house, the House of Wicca… and so on.

Dense eucalyptus forest on a hill. Great hike on foggy San Francisco days.

Many galleries and events and a restaurant

In the Mission, now as terminally hip as it was formally poor, the St Francis is a greasy good time since 1918. Stuck beautifully in the 50's both aesthetically and menu wise it's Americana in a bun. Dig in.

Reliably divey, with an ample back patio, ill-advertised punk shows and the occasional appearance of dollar oysters.