At the end of Haight Street I cross the road into Golden Gate Park. This seems to be where most of San Francisco's homeless live. I walk past large groups of them sprawled on the grass next to their shopping trolleys.
The Conservatory of Flowers is shut on Mondays. As I'm about to leave a man in a straw hat jumps in front of me and says:
'It's shut today isn't it?'
'Yes, on Mondays' I reply
'Where are you from? What are you doing in San Francisco?' he asks
As I'm in a good mood I tell him San Francisco is my favourite city thinking I'm paying his home town a huge compliment
He looks confused and says:
'Have you been to Barcelona and Paris?'
Now I'm confused as I'm not sure where this conversation's going.
He tells me there's a Guru in town where I can buy a ticket and queue up for a hug. I'm now keen to get away and say I'm in a hurry.
'Will you be coming back?' he asks
'Yes I think so' I say
'Let me give you my card in case you come back'
Grateful that he's letting me leave so easily I thank him and ask his name.
'James in the Rain' he says handing me a bright pink card.
This is the problem. As much as I love San Francisco for its air of freedom and laid-backness, it's full of nutters that have spent too many years on drugs. In a week I have met Mike the Guitar, Nino and James in the Rain. As they've all initiated conversations with me I wonder for a second if I attract weirdos or is it that San Francisco has more than its fair share?
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