Friday the 30th of January, 1959, itâs 5 oâclock in the morning and Iâm in; it’s all or nothing, here goes! Â I collected my one suitcase from baggage claim and stepped outside the terminal into the foggy San Francisco morning …and I about froze my butt off!Â
Hailing a taxi with nothing exact in mind save for searching out accommodations, I inquired to the driver about his fare into downtown San Francisco. Â He said it would be about $7.00. Â I had no idea at the time SFO’s proximity to the city proper.
And as all I had in my pocket was $15.00, seven was a bit too rich for my blood. Â I quickly found out I could take a bus into the city for much less than half. Â Now that I would be at ease with and to be exact, it was just over one dollar.
I arrived into San Francisco at the bus terminal just above Market Street. Â Then I tried the taxi thing again and this time, much more reasonable to my wallet was the fare. Â I asked the driver to take me to a hotel. Â
And I quickly added, âIn fact take me to an inexpensive but decent hotel please.â Â This didnât seem an unreasonable request to me. Â After a little bit I began to feel as though the driver was taking me ‘for a ride’ and so following my gut I told him to stop right there, I paid him and I got out.
This turned out to be just before 3rd Street, on Howard Street. Â I looked around as to my surroundings and almost directly in front of me I saw a little 3-story hotel with a mini-market sided up next to it.
I picked up my suitcase off the sidewalk and pushed my way in through the front door. Â The interior was dimly lit but thankfully it was much warmer than outside to be sure. Â I heard a male voice ask if he could help me.
While the lobby was a little questionable in appearance I knew I had to at the very least, ask the question. Â And so to the blanket-wrapped figure sitting behind the desk I asked, Â âHave you a room to let?â Â
A beanie covered head belonging to a little old brown man, emerged from the blanket showing a somewhat wrinkled face. Â I said in my surprise, ‘Hey! Â You are Indian.’
He looked me up and down with squinty eyes and quickly replied, âAnd you are Indian too!â Â Familiarity in this case was good for me. Â
He offered me a key to go upstairs to the 2nd floor and see if that room -he gave me specific directions- would suit me. Â âYou can leave your case down here if you wish.â Â Once again my comfort resurfaced, I accepted the key, left my suitcase on the floor at the reception desk and went up the stairs to the second floor.
I turned the key in the lock of the door marked 32 and stepped inside. Â I saw right away the window and walked over to it to see what I would see. Â It faced the street below which only moments ago I was standing on. Â I also noticed that dawn was upon the city.
Looking back into the room I saw there was a smallish area that had a tiny sink with a mirror over it and a little 2-burner electric hot plate thing on the counter. Â I was glad to see there was a tiny refrigerator. Â
I saw a twin bed, slightly larger than average in one corner and no other furniture. Â No chairs, sofa or table to eat at. Â Donât ask, itâs alright.
There wasn’t a shower or toilet in the room, that would be shared and it was down the hall. Â There was one per floor and fortunately, there was 3 or 4 shower stalls, sinks and toilets so all in all, not a bad set-up. Â Besides the majority of residents were male. Â Maybe the female renters if any, were on the top floor.
For what it was, it was cosy and I liked the room. Â Nothing would take away the happy feeling that was spreading throughout my body. Â A whole lot of concern was melting away. Â I closed the door, locking it and returned to the lobby.
âWill you take it?â he asked me eagerly. Â âYes I think I like it very much but how much rent are you asking for?â I replied with hope that I could afford it. Â The warm-faced Indian man, now without the blanket wrapping stated, âIt will take $1.00 per night.â Â Done!
I was quite pleased to hang on to that room key. Â âYou do not have to pay me now. Â The end of the week will be fine,â he said to me after learning that I needed the room for an extended period.
He shook my hand and told me his name.  It was Lalit and he was the owner.  He happily offered me a few dishes and some pots and pans which he went behind the curtained doorway to retrieve.
Lalit also provided me with information; I was to bring my bedding down about twice a week when I wanted fresh sheets and clean towels. Â There was a couple of Chinese laundry houses around the neighborhood for my clothing, barbers, grocers and Five & Dime stores all over the place.
Anything else I would need, he courteously said in Hindi, âJust ask anytime.â Â Amazing how differently I felt after all this, it was great. Â
I took my case upstairs and freshened up at my little sink. Â I checked out the washroom facilities after I unpacked. Â My next goal was to visit that little market next door. Â I realized I was craving my Indian food when I first walked into the lobby; I suspected a slight curried scent in the air but chalked it off to missing home.
I went into the little mini-market next door. Â It was ran by a nice middle-aged Chinese man. Â I was happy about the contents of his store, real glad he was there. Â In a small meat case I found some cut-up chicken and some other meats. Â
There was a small produce table where I got the onion, garlic, cilantro, ginger and potato that I needed. Â I grabbed some salt and pepper. Â I was very happy to find a tin of Madras Curry Powder and a small bag of basmati rice. Â My bill came to $1.75. Â
I returned with my shopping and Lalit seeing the grocery bag in my hand, smiled. Â I went right upstairs and immediately began preparation of my ingredients. Â Before long delightful smells filled the little room. Â In fact it had also seeped out into the hallway.
It wasn’t long before there was a knock on my door. Â I answered the knock and there stood two young guys, staring at me as though in a trance and then I noticed they seemed pleased by the smell in my room when the door opened; it was like they hit the jackpot or something.
They quickly introduced themselves as a couple of Indian gents, brothers to be precise, from Toorak ⊠as in Fiji, who followed their noses to my door.  How âbout that!  I invited them in, I portioned out my meal in thirds and ate it with them.  We shared our stories and a little friendship was born; my first one in California.
Chicken curry & rice, the brothers Shekhar and Ramesh, a safe room for myself – predicting a new beginning in America and well, I had a great first day.
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