We’re pivoting. 

After more research, conversations, and experimentation, Michael and I have decided to drop Tempo Sciences and work on something new. 

If you missed it on my previous blog, the summary is that a friend and I decided to try and build an e-commerce brand, focused on providing supplements for people rolling at raves. But after many conversations with supplement suppliers, time spent gauging customer interest, and running an ad campaign, we’ve decided to focus on a different problem space. 

I want to share the updates since my last post and some of the lessons we learned along the way. 

Manufacturing Headaches

Michael and I were confident we had our formula down after having looked at some competitors and after extensive research on scientific papers. But as we had more conversations with supplement manufacturers, we began to realize we were going to run into a huge problem. 

To create our custom formula, suppliers required a minimum order of 100,000 to 1,000,000 units, which would end up costing us anywhere between $25,000 to $70,000 to produce. We knew we would have to pay, and had been shopping around for a reasonable price. But we balked at the large minimums, based on what we knew about our customers. 

From the research we had done, it was clear that our customers would be purchasing our product at most 4-5 times a year. Rolling was something done for festivals or big events, and not something done on a more regular basis (like going out to a bar for drinks). The low frequency of usage made the minimum order quantities hard to justify, especially since supplements do expire. 

This was further complicated by the fact that we wanted to do an “all-in-one” pill that would include all of the vitamins and nutrients needed for promoting recovery. Other competitors had kits where each ingredient was in a separate pill, which felt cheap. Yet after talking to suppliers, I started to see why they went in that direction. It is much less expensive to buy pre-made pills separately and package them, rather than have all the ingredients in one custom pill. 

But having the ingredients in a single pill was important to us, as we wanted to create a premium-feeling product (as opposed to the other brands which felt cheaper). We decided to pivot: Instead of a supplement only to be taken at festivals, we decided to rebrand it as a daily multivitamin for consumers who take party drugs. We had seen many success stories for multivitamins targeting consumers who drink. Perhaps a multivitamin for party drug users could work?

A Concerning Direction

At this point though, I was starting to feel less excited about this new direction. When we first came up with the idea, we had a clear customer persona in mind: our “work hard, play hard” friends who dabbled in the occasional substance while being conscious of their health. As we pivoted to a multivitamin for party drug users, I started to think, who is this even for?

It’s pretty much an open secret that many tech professionals and Ivy-league educated workers dabble in the occasional psychoactive substance. But among my friends, never to the point where a multivitamin for protecting against harm would have ever felt like a necessity. In reading scientific papers to determine our formula, I also got a deeper understanding of the the harm caused by certain drugs.  Yes, perhaps our formula could mitigate some negative effects, but I got the feeling that abstinence was really the best medicine.

As we continued to evaluate options, we spoke with one of the founders of a yogurt soju cocktail brand. I was intrigued since my product manager brain couldn’t figure out a clear problem they were solving. We learned that they had been working on their idea for 4 years, having pivoted from a previous Asian-inspired drink and finding success with their new version. What was clear to me was that the team was passionate about their customers. They knew their market well and were excited about what they were building.

The founder mentioned that he had previously actually been a product manager and that a lot of the lessons he had learned at work weren’t valuable in this new venture. Yet customer empathy, a crucial product lesson, was clearly on display.

I couldn’t say I felt the same way about our prospective customers. We were straying away from the professionals who party that we knew personally to people who engage in more unhealthy behaviors. Having more knowledge about the harm caused by party drugs made me less excited about building a product for that audience.

But at this point, we were working off of our assumptions and past conversations, we didn’t have any data to back up our thinking. Maybe there was a market of professionals who dabbled in substances and wanted to guarantee their brain’s peak performance. We finally decided to run an experiment. 

The Experiment

When many people talk about experimenting with a product idea, they mention having just two pieces: a landing page and an ad. 

Intellectually, it made sense. Obviously you don’t want to overinvest before you know there’s heat around idea. But how do you actually do this?

The reality was actually much easier than I imagined. 

I had never created an ad before, but making one was trivial. One of the most popular tools out there is CapCut (by ByteDance, owners of TikTok). Using free stock footage from Pexels, splicing together a workable 15-second ad was actually pretty easy.

After creating the ad, the next step was actually running it. For that, I turned to Meta’s Ads Manager. After creating a Facebook and Instagram page for Tempo, I could create an ad campaign, specifying who would see it and on what platforms. I targeted 22-50 year-olds in major cities, running the ad exclusively on Instagram. 

I set up the ad campaign with a budget of $100. I had no idea what to expect, as this was my first time personally running an ad. Would anyone actually click on it?

I was shocked when after a week, people did in fact click into the ad, and were exploring our website. We got a solid clickthrough rate which showed that people were actually interested in learning more. 

Yet that interest stopped when it came time to sign up for updates. We added a signup form in order to see which visitors would actually be committed. Unfortunately, these visits didn’t transform into the number of signups we had hoped. We decided to end the experiment after a month, confident that we had collected enough data. 

Lessons

In the end, we decided that shutting Tempo down would be the right decision. We were less excited about the idea, and didn’t see the numbers from the ad campaign that would convince us to spend $10-$20K on actually manufacturing our product. But we ended up learning some valuable lessons. 

For one, physical products are hard. Relying on third parties limited our options and also required a lot of upfront investment. I’m not scratching out future work with physical products, but would like to focus on something purely digital for my next venture. 

One product lesson that is consistent, whether in corporate product management or entrepreneurship, is really understanding your customer. But at the same time, I think being excited about the customer you’re serving is important. It was hard to stay motivated as I felt more distance between myself and our potential future customers. I would like to feel excited about putting myself in my customer’s shoes. In a similar vein, I’d like to build a product that’s actually good for them.

Finally, running an experiment was absolutely the first thing we should have done. When we got started, we did some things well (talking to prospective customers and getting a sense for how supplement manufacturers work) and some things not so well (spending money we didn’t need to and not continuing those customer conversations). But now, we actually knew how to quickly set up a landing page and run an ad. With a customer in mind and an idea or problem to solve, doing this again feels much simpler. 

Tempo is shutting down, but Michael and I are still scheming up new ideas. Things may move a little slower, as I have become more focused on career decisions (more on that later). 

In the end though, I’m happy to have invested time and effort into working on Tempo, and look forward to taking these lessons to my next venture.

When I wrote my Reflections at 30 post, one of the realizations I came to was that during the next decade, I want to set aside time for creative and entrepreneurial pursuits. At the time of writing my post, I imagined that happening in a few years, after getting some more years of work experience under my belt. 

So it came to my surprise that a few days after publishing my post, I was approached by a friend with similar goals. 

I didn’t expect myself to return to entrepreneurship so soon. But over the past few months, my friend and I have been working on a project that we hope to get into our customers' hands soon. It’s been a whirlwind of new learnings and experiences that I want to share, especially for other people who dabble with the thought of building something new.

This isn’t the first time I’ve built something. For those of you who have known me for a while, you may remember Hangster, an app motivated by my desire to find friends who were free to get tacos (really any dinner, but mostly tacos at El Grullense). 

Stanford in 2015 was buzzing with entrepreneurial success stories, and that world seemed much more exciting than the windowless cubicle farm I was in when I was interning as an engineer at Raytheon. Some friends and I wanted to put our hat in the ring and were especially motivated by success stories like Snapchat, built by alumni while they were on campus. But we were inexperienced and immature. Hell if you knew me, I was a cocky bastard imagining myself the next Zuckerberg. It turns out watching 6 Seasons of Silicon Valley isn’t enough to prepare you for what it actually takes to build a company. My friends and I raised some money and had some solid user metrics for a time, but those numbers were decimated when the college summer came along. After graduating, I gave up on any entrepreneurial ideas and focused my energy on finding a job and building my career. 

Product Foundations and Entrepreneurial Challenges

At Hangster, I had the most fun talking to users and understanding their problems, so much so that my friends nicknamed me “Feedback King” (among other, NSFW nicknames). This motivated my entry into product management, a career where I could get paid for doing the same and use that feedback to build cool products. 

In product management, there are generally two career paths. One is remaining employed as a product manager, either working as an individual contributor working with teams to build new products and features or going into people management. The other path is building your own company. When I got started in product, an entrepreneurial journey seemed like a fantasy, even after my experience with Hangster. But over time, as I built new skills and learned from mentors, entrepreneurship started feeling less unrealistic. 

But being in the working world brought a host of new hurdles. I wasn’t a college kid with a bunch of free time anymore. And the comfortable reliability of a paycheck lessened my excitement of leaping into the unknown and experimenting with building something new. 

The closest I got was during the pandemic when I started conducting user interviews to assess the feasibility of creating a Yelp clone with an emphasis on restaurant recommendations from friends. But this idea lost steam when I got the sense from most of my interviews that Yelp and Google Maps were good enough. A constant product management lesson I learned was to solve critical customer pain points, and this didn’t feel critical enough. 

When it comes to beginning a journey into entrepreneurship, one of the biggest hurdles is motivation. One thing I’ve learned about myself is that I can’t work in a vacuum. I get the most enjoyment when I’m working with other people, and entrepreneurship can be especially difficult as it is an extremely isolating journey. I know a few friends who found success on their own, but having someone you can bounce ideas off of and an accountability partner is very helpful. But this person needs to be motivated too. 

A lot of people (including) myself like the idea of entrepreneurship. But when push comes to shove, they may not really be into it. I remember talking to one friend who seemed interested in working on the Yelp idea, but only insomuch that it would help them escape their current company. The moment they did get their new job, they bailed. Another opportunistic friend at first seemed excited to work together on another project, but after I put in work on conducting research and gathering requirements, they balked when they realized actual work was involved. 

If you’re looking to build something, finding someone with a complementary skillset and the right motivations is key. What are those motivations? In college I had the wrong motivations, as I imagined raising funds from some prestigious investors and building a massive, iconic company. These days, I’m focused on independence and learning.  I’m interested in building financial resilience, which is part of the motivation for building another income stream beyond my full-time job and investments. The other is getting my hands dirty and simply seeing if I can make money on the internet, without the guardrails of someone else’s startup or big company behind me.

That’s why I was very thankful when Michael approached me with the proposal to build something new. My friend Michael loves entrepreneurial schemes and in college he also pursued his own venture. These days he has other methods, whether operating his AirBnb or finding promising investments. 

Michael suggested we work on an e-commerce project together, as he had some experience in the space and was interested in building something, but had struggled to find time. I had no e-commerce experience whatsoever, but I knew what it took to identify a need and take a product from conception to launch. With his technical skills and e-commerce experience, and my product and operational skills, it was a match. 

The Journey So Far

Working on an e-commerce project is like nothing I’ve worked on before. All of my previous work experience has been digital products for consumers and businesses. But it’s been a fun new muscle to stretch.

The first hurdle for Michael and I was identifying the kind of product we wanted to build. E-commerce is a large world that includes anything from clothing to physical tech products, but we landed on supplements. While a crowded space, supplements naturally lead to recurring purchases (as customers order their weekly/monthly subscriptions) and higher profit margins as production costs are lower. 

But within that space, what were we going to sell? We brainstormed several ideas trying to find an unmet need, when we landed on one: supplements for friends who roll at raves. Many of our Ivy-league educated friends have a “work hard, play hard” mentality and when it came to festivals, they would always come prepared. They’d fill plastic bags with Vitamin-C, Magnesium, N-acetyl cysteine, and other legal supplements to prevent neurotoxicity and speed their recovery. Instead of manually collecting these supplements, could they be combined into a single serving? Seeing other brands in the space didn’t demotivate us, it encouraged us that there was a market and opportunity here. 

In e-commerce, a lesson I learned is that branding is a big part of the picture. Onyx Coffee Lab and Black Rifle Coffee Company both sell coffee beans, but one is tailored to liberal hipsters while the other to Trump supporters. We wanted to make sure that our brand would appeal to ambitious urban professionals who also like to party. I contracted a former coworker of mine to help us design a brand that would thread that needle. 

Building physical products is challenging because they’re physical. But fortunately, it’s not like we’re cooking these formulas in our kitchen. Across the country, there are a multitude of private label manufacturers and laboratories that do everything from researching formulas, manufacturing powders and capsules, and packaging and marketing. The challenge has been finding one that can create our formula for the right quantity and price. We’ve seen some quotes starting at $70,000 and with order minimums of millions of capsules. As we’re running a bootstrapped business, finding the right manufacturing partner is key. 

Going through this journey, the hardest part is quieting the voice in the back of my head. Do I really know what I’m doing? Is anyone going to buy this? What if it doesn’t work out? In my product management career, there were a lot of lessons about the right way of doing things, about all the steps and validation you should do before you build and launch. It was some of this validation that kept me from pursuing other ideas. 

In this journey, I’ve been more comfortable with throwing some of that away and accepting that mistakes will be made. I’ve come to terms that yes, it might not work out. But even in the worst case, I will come out with some valuable lessons. I at least hope to offer my friends a product that keeps them healthy when they go out. 

I’m not ready to call myself an entrepreneur yet, not at least until something gets sold. But I’m excited to revisit this path, learn something new, and build something cool. 

We still have a lot of work to do, and the product we launch with may look completely different than what we have today. If you want to follow along, check us out at temposciences.com and give our Twitter and Instagram a follow. I look forward to sharing more learnings and reflections as we continue our journey. 

In San Francisco, we vote. A LOT. And if you’ve been living in San Francisco since 2020 and actively vote, you’ve voted in 7 elections:

• The 2020 Presidential Primary

• The 2020 General Election

• The 2021 Gubernatorial Recall Election

• The 2022 Consolidated Special Municipal Election

• The 2022 Special General Election

• The 2022 State Primary

• The 2022 General Election

Wow, that’s a lot of democracy! And within each of those elections, it’s not like you’re voting for one or two people or propositions. 

If we look at the recent 2022 General Election, some of the positions you voted on included:

• Governor

• Lieutenant Governor

• Insurance Commissioner

• Members of the Board of Education

• Assessor-Recorder

• A proposition for pedestrianizing a street in a park

• An anti-proposition for pedestrianizing a street in a park

• A proposition to make it easier to build housing

• An anti-proposition to the above

• And so on and so on, et cetera

Did you even know what the hell you were voting on? I definitely did not. I mean, what even is a Lieutenant Governor? Are they in the army? Do they drive a tank? No idea.

This is a problem. We like to think of the United States as a shining example of democracy. I mean, we get to vote on so many things, how is that not democratic?

But is it really democratic if you don’t know what you’re voting on? In an ideal world, we’d have a well-informed populace who can understand exactly what they’re voting on and why.

Unfortunately, the real world doesn’t work that way. We have jobs, families, 4 seasons of Succession to catch up on (I still haven’t gotten to it).  Is it reasonable to expect people to carve out the time when they have so many other priorities?

Does it matter? Especially in San Francisco where everyone is a Democrat, who cares about the Board of Education or Assessor-Recorder, right? 

Local politics may not be as sexy as the presidential race, but in your everyday life it is a million times more important. And with a deluge of elections over the last few years, every day San Franciscans have lost track of the power they have over the direction of the city. Recent issues on crime, housing affordability, and education can be tied back to the results of elections that were ignored, some with margins within hundreds of votes. 

Okay, so these elections are super important but there are way too many things to vote on. How the hell do I know who to vote for?

That’s where endorsements come in. Instead of trying to do your own research or only voting for people with Hispanic last names like I did when I first moved to San Francisco, instead you should follow the endorsements of many of the clubs in San Francisco. 

Groups like SF YIMBY, United Democratic Club, Grow SF, and more will release voter guides that will tell you exactly who to vote for. They will do all the hard work of researching candidates and propositions. The only thing you need to research is the group itself, and finding one that aligns with your values. 

Which brings me to the most important election you’ve never heard of: The Democratic County Central Committee. What the hell is that?

In addition to the groups I mentioned above, there is another group that will release a list of endorsements: the San Francisco Democratic Party. And no, these endorsements aren’t hand-picked by Joe Biden himself. 

Instead, they are voted on by a set of committee members. A committee that YOU (presumably a registered Democrat) voted in. 

And let me tell you, they’ve endorsed quite a few stinkers. 

When housing activists, including SF YIMBY and the SF Bay Area Planning and Urban Research Association, got a housing proposition on the ballot (Prop D) to tackle the affordability crisis, NIMBY members of the Board of Supervisors (Chan, Peskin, Preston among others) added a confusingly similar proposition (Prop E) to impede it. The Democratic Party endorsed Prop E. 

When frustrated parents organized to recall several members of the Board of Education for prioritizing school renaming over better student outcomes and citizens tired of crime organized to oust a District Attorney who ignored them, the local Democratic Party opposed both. 

And in this upcoming election in March, the Democratic Party opposed Prop C, a proposition encouraging developers to convert office space into housing (36% of office space is vacant in downtown San Francisco).

In a city where elections can be won by hundreds of votes, endorsements matter. And the local Democratic Party endorsements are highly influential. Voters who only follow the Democratic Party endorsements today may be voting for candidates and propositions that will leave San Francisco in bad shape.

The deluge of elections can give the illusion of democracy, when in fact some bad actors are expecting voters to be uninformed and not pay attention.

However, you can fight back. And the two most important things you can do are:

• Follow an endorsement guide that aligns with your values

• VOTE

So when your ballot arrives for the March primary, don’t ignore the importance of all those seemingly random elections. Your vote has the power to change the future of San Francisco for years to come.

March 2024 Primary Endorsements

My endorsements below are an amalgamation of endorsements from groups like SF YIMBY, Together SF, United Democratic Club, and Grow SF.

My priorities are:

• More housing - which encourages more families to live here, reduces folks entering homelessness, and allows service workers to actually live in the city and not BART from 2 hours away

• Cutting red tape - making it easier for people to start and run businesses, which provide jobs, allows new immigrants access to city wealth, and adds fun and creative places to the city

• Public Safety - Big Stick, Big Carrot: Aggressively going after thieves and drug dealers and keeping dangerous people off the streets, ensure that the prison system actually rehabilitates people and gives them a fair chance to re-enter society

• Education - Make sure kids have the resources to succeed, make public schools actually good so parents stay here, compensate teachers well and give them the resources they need

“So, are you ready to turn 30?”

This was a question I heard a lot in the months and days leading up to my birthday, and it was always interesting to hear the tone in which the question was asked. 

Sometimes, the question was seeped in excitement, filled with the anticipation of reaching a new chapter and imagining the adventures ahead. 

And sometimes, the question hung heavy with dread, as cloudy thoughts of closed doors and missed Forbes list appearances lingered.

So, am I ready?

As one of the oldest in my group of friends, I had the privilege of hitting this milestone first a few months ago. And over the past few months, I’ve gotten the chance to sit and reflect on leaving my 20s and entering my 30s. 

Pressure Check

I knew my 30s weren’t going to be the same when my doctor said, “Hey um, your blood pressure’s looking a little high.”

Um, what? Getting my blood pressure checked at the doctor’s was generally one of those routine things that I ignored. I mean, c’mon I get like 10,000 steps a day, I’m healthy, right? But today was different. 

“Uh, can you check again?”

After a few more tests, same result: 150/110. 

Hoooly shit this is bad. Is this it? Is this the end of Julio?

Fast forward a few months, no this was not the end. Consistent workouts and finally eating ugh, salads, brought me back down to a normal level. 

I had always imagined that my 30s were going to be like my 20s, except with money. But the scare at the doctor’s made me realize, no, a lot more was going to change. 

The melancholy in “Are you ready to turn 30?” is the realization that there’s a lot I’ll be leaving behind in my 20s. The ability to consume whatever I want without consequence is one. But there are also experiences that I won’t be able to relive. 

Even though I graduated in 2016, my post-college 20s sometimes felt like a continuing studies program at the Univer-City of San Francisco. Instead of classes, every new job brought new learnings–and I was getting paid. San Francisco felt massive and friends were taking me to new places every day. The social life I cultivated outside of work felt like the natural evolution of what I was doing in college, except for partying at bars and nightclubs instead of in our dorms.

But as I got closer to 30, something started to change. I noticed that my friends and I weren’t the youngest people going out anymore. Staying up until sunrise on the weekends going out and eating boxes of Korean Fried Chicken was a struggle. And there are only so many places to explore in San Francisco. What once felt like a massive metropolis shrank as I got to know the city. 

Turning 30 didn’t hit me as hard as I expected, because a part of me felt like I had already graduated from my 20s. After 7 years, what had been new and exciting started to feel routine, and I felt myself aging out of some of the things I had been doing. The shock of the blood pressure reading felt like officially putting a pin on my 20s. There was no kidding myself, I’m 30. I eat salads now.  

Base Building

But after leaving my 20s, I’m thankful to be entering my 30s on solid footing.

I’m obsessed with strategy games and nerd out on Civilization. And in any game, I start by exploring the world, harvesting resources, and investing in my empire. 

The “continuing studies” of my 20s felt a lot like that.

Over several years, I built out established friend groups in San Francisco and spent my weekends deepening relationships and creating fond memories. At the same time, I’ve solidly established my career in product management, a field where I can exercise both my creative and social muscles. And instead of solely being an observer, I’ve begun my journey as an active participant in local San Francisco politics, working with organizers and electeds to build a better city. 

After establishing your empire in Civilization, the next step is planning out your victory. Whether that’s through military domination, technological prowess, or cultural persuasion is up to the foundations built by the player. 

At 30 the question for me is, now what? Besides an existential crisis of course. 

With San Francisco starting to feel old, I wondered if it was time for a change. Having had several friends move to New York City has given me a strong nudge to join them. And moving to Mexico City has always sat at the back of my head. Was it time I finally left the bay?

At the same time, charging forward in my product management career opened a lot more doors and with it, a lot more choices. As someone who values independence, the corporate product world felt constraining yet I also appreciated the stability. Starting my own thing has always sat at the back of my head, but would it be sustainable? And with my involvement with politics I wondered, was it time I focused more of my energy there?

The excitement around “So, are you ready to turn 30” is the realization of the many opportunities ahead of you. But which road to choose? 

As I hit 30, I felt like it was the perfect opportunity to take a step back to reflect.

Pathfinding 

After 7 years of focusing on my career, I decided to leave my startup job in August and embark on a journey exploring cities around the world. I wanted to spend some time with my own thoughts and meet people with different backgrounds and values. I also wanted some time outside the Bay Area bubble. After spending so much time in a culture that puts productivity on a pedestal, I wanted to spend some unproductive time guilt-free. So I celebrated my 30th birthday with friends in New York City and stuffed my calendar with trips, trekking across Europe, Asia, and Mexico. 

At the end of my trips, I was hit with something I wasn’t expecting… boredom. I was meeting a lot of people, walking a bunch, and eating loads (probably could have done with a few more salads). But I felt like I wasn’t doing anything. I found myself neglecting some of my other needs. And that’s when I got a little more clarity of what I’d like my 30s to look like.

For one, I realized that relationships and social life are just as important to me today as they were in my 20s. While traveling, I missed the relationships and community I had in San Francisco. I love making new friends, but making time for existing relationships is even more important. But I also found that I get energy working together with others. I actually found myself missing the social life at work, as I get a lot of energy working together on a shared goal. In my 30s, I hope to continue to make great memories with friends and build with others.

With a few months of pure consumption came the realization that I want to take a more conscious role in investing in myself. My body’s not the same as it was at 20, meaning more of an emphasis on exercising and… salads. But I also feel the urge to feed my creative side. While my career in product management offers some avenues to be creative, they can be constrained by business needs. I recently signed up for classical guitar and Swift/iOS development courses to stretch some creative muscles. In my 30s, I want to make sure to dedicate some extra time for creativity.

After the side quests of travel felt the nagging feeling to return to my main objective. But as I think about my career in my 30s, I see several paths forward. Continuing up the ladder of corporate product is one. But I’m more excited with the prospect of putting the entrepreneurial skills I’ve picked up on the job to the test. Whether that’s something small on the side or a fully-fledged venture, I’m not sure yet. I’ve also gotten much more involved in local politics and the YIMBY movement. I’m still not sure if that’s an area I want to focus even more on. 

Traveling let me experience a lot of amazing cities, but only at the surface level. While walkability and good urbanism are important to me, I realize that community is just as valuable. My 30s may see me continuing to invest in the community I have built in San Francisco. But I’m open to moving, whether it’s following friends in New York City or getting closer to my roots in Mexico City. But I do know that wherever I go, it’s got to be walkable. 

As I enter my next decade, I’m coming in with a feeling of optimism. I don’t have it all figured out. But I’m thankful for the relationships and friends that have got me to where I am today. From having spent the last years growing and making some small dents in the world, I’m looking forward to continuing to build on my relationships, invest in myself, and make bigger impacts. There’s a lot to look forward to. Except for maybe the salads. 

At the beginning of the year San Francisco launched a brand new subway line, the Central Subway. It’s been something I’ve been waiting YEARS for. Living in Nob Hill, getting to the Caltrain station for work is a trek. Buses don’t reach the station directly which makes them a slow option, so for the most part, I’d rely on my trusty Revel mopeds. But with the new subway line, I’d finally have a direct route from Chinatown to the Caltrain. 

When it finally opened, I excitedly made an effort to try it out. I decided to opt for a short trip from Union Square to Chinatown. I arrived at the station and checked the timetable. Wait.. hold on.. 25 minutes?! Are you kidding me?? When I checked Google Maps and found that walking would take me 30 minutes, I said screw it, I’m calling an Uber. 

This is a constant story in San Francisco. But unlike when I lived in Los Angeles, public transit is actually a part of my experience living in the city, whether it’s taking MUNI buses or BART trains. Yet transit in San Francisco always leaves me disappointed. And I’m definitely not the only one, there’s a reason Uber and Lyft were started in this city. 

Even as an urbanist, I begrudgingly rely on automobiles and personal vehicles to get me around. I’m not one of those purists that only stick to buses, I’ve got places to be. But it got me thinking, what does good transit look like? I thought of my time in major cities like New York and Tokyo, and even places that surprised me like Bangkok and Budapest. Reflecting on my experiences, I think there are some key features that make a transit system good. 

Coverage & Convenience

While I am thankful for the Central Subway, the fact that it took over 10 years to build only 4 new stations was incredibly disappointing. Phase 2 is planned which extends the line into North Beach and Fisherman’s Wharf, but I doubt this will be opening up any time soon. While rail transportation in San Francisco does cover parts of the city, other neighborhoods are underserved. There are no trains I can take to get me directly to picnicking in Golden Gate Park or dumplings in the Richmond. 

Even though the Central Subway is an option, it’s still a 10-minute walk from home for me. This is not bad when walking downhill to get there but absolutely brutal climbing uphill to return home after work. Immediately by my apartment, there are several bus routes but they’re indirect and require transfers to take me to where I want to go. The cable car lines which flank my apartment would actually be extremely convenient, but they are always packed with tourists (and it’s $8 what a rip-off). Sadly, while I do have transit options available, I find myself preferring to scooter directly to my destination rather than spending time transferring from different public transit options. 

Meanwhile, in other cities, transit options usually cover a large swath of all the places I want to go to. From Tokyo to Paris to New York City, I can get anywhere by sticking to the metro. In Budapest and Mexico City, transit is still a reliable option for getting anywhere interesting. 

The sad part is, San Francisco’s rail lines used to cover most of the city. While San Franciscans are used to taking lines like the J through the M, what they don’t realize is that there used to be lines A through F too. These lines covered the Richmond, the Marina, the Presidio, and the eastern part of the Mission. The routes were removed in favor of buses, whose issues lead to my second point. 

Frequency

In San Francisco, the most frequent buses arrive every 10 minutes but on average it’s usually longer than that. And this is painful. Waiting at a bus stop in the chilly SF summer air is not a fun time. Meanwhile, during rush hour in NYC subways arrive every 3 to 5 minutes. The fact that Kyiv could still run trains every 7 minutes (which is a delay due to war) blew my mind. 

The best transit system is one where I can arrive at the station and know my ride isn’t far away. Anything under 5 minutes is perfect. Under 10 is passable. Over 10 minutes means I need to plan a schedule around it, which is annoying. If I just barely miss my bus or train, I’m stuck waiting for a while which extends my commute. Obviously expecting frequent transit 24/7 is unrealistic, as most cities do have modified schedules at night. But during peak hours this would be ideal. 

In San Francisco, a big problem can be delays too. On top of waiting 10 minutes for your next bus or train, that wait can be even longer because of traffic or some unexpected snag. Sadly, there are only a few dedicated bus lanes which means they can get stuck in traffic like any other motor vehicle. Some rail lines are also vehicle lanes, meaning that trains also get stuck in traffic. Dedicated lanes for public transit and synchronizing lights could help.

So is more frequent transit possible in San Francisco? It’s easy to forget that unlike New York or Tokyo, SF is filled with 800,000 people, not millions. But Valencia, Spain (pop. 791k) manages to have a frequency of 5-10 minutes during peak hours. And Gothenburg, Sweden (pop. 591k) has some lines that are as frequent as every 6 minutes. More frequent transit is possible in San Francisco. 

Comfort & Safety 

I consider myself lucky that I’ve never experienced any threatening situations while on public transit. But from shootings to stabbings (in the last month!), there are many stories that make passengers prefer private vehicles. While violence isn’t as extreme as some examples I’ve seen, I can understand why someone would want to avoid transit. 

Unfortunately, what I have seen are folks who don’t respect other passengers and the vehicles themselves. I’ve seen lots of people littering and leaving their trash on buses and trains. But one of the worst examples I saw was someone smoking crack on BART. This guy nearly hotboxed the train filled with passengers (including a baby). The craziest part is, this wasn’t his first time, as other people recounted stories of the same guy. 

It can be a controversial topic, but I don’t think it’s an unreasonable requirement to demand that transit passengers respect each other and their ride. Fortunately from what I’ve seen, this is something that doesn’t necessitate an increased police presence. I’ve actually found Caltrain to be a safe and clean ride (so clean they actually allow drinking, unlike BART). On Caltrain, tickets are regularly inspected which generally means troublemakers are booted off (something I’ve witnessed). Some fare inspections on MUNI and BART could go a long way. 

We need transit ridership to grow if we want to ever come close to slowing climate change. Personally, I believe that taking transit helps build community as it forces people to interact with each other rather than being isolated in private personal vehicles. In order to encourage more people to opt out of private vehicles, we need to make sure that they trust that transit is safe, reliable, and gets them to where they need to be. 

Fortunately, it’s not like building a good transportation system is something that needs to be done from scratch. San Francisco and other cities have the foundations for doing that. But by taking lessons from successful cities and improving coverage, frequency, and safety, I believe cities can make transit a much more appealing option. 

Outside of going to Mexico, it had been a while since I traveled outside the United States. The pandemic made it difficult to escape the San Francisco (and American) bubble I had experienced over the past 3 years. So I was pretty excited to get the opportunity to visit Bangkok, Thailand, and Hanoi, Vietnam at the beginning of this year. 

Like most people, I like traveling to gorge on delicious street food, enjoy some tropical weather, and take way too many pictures. But the nerdier side of me appreciates traveling to new places in order to get a better understanding of how urban environments differ around the world. I love analyzing how big cities tick, and my involvement in SF YIMBY has made me more interested in learning what American cities are lacking. 

So besides posting a million stories on my Instagram, I wanted to reflect on what I enjoyed about Bangkok and Hanoi from an urbanist perspective. As a disclaimer though, a few days as a tourist in each city really isn’t enough time to know everything about them, from the good parts to the bad. Still, I came back from my travels with some great first impressions. 

For starters, transportation and walkability stood out. Most places outside of North America make it easy to take transit or travel by foot, and Bangkok and Hanoi were no exception. Besides getting to and from the airport, it was rare for me to need to use a car. I spent most of my time traveling by using the government-operated metro system and the privately-owned elevated train system in Bangkok. While I would still rank NYC’s subway system better, Bangkok’s trains beat out every other American city. I remember missing my train and having another one arrive less than 5 minutes after, a rare experience in most US cities. Bangkok’s transit definitely blows San Francisco’s MUNI and BART out of the water. 

Speaking of water, rivers in Bangkok were another great conduit for travel. For less than 50 cents, I could skip traffic by traveling by ferry, hopping from one ridiculously large shopping mall to another (besides being ferry stops, air-conditioned malls were a great way to avoid the heat). But even walking in the sun wasn’t too bad. Bangkok is dense enough that destinations were never too far to walk to and walking granted more opportunities to run into people selling mango sticky rice and moo ping. 

In Hanoi, walking was the only way for me to get around. While I explored a wider area in Bangkok, in Hanoi I mostly stayed in the Old Quarter. There is no metro system there, but that wasn’t a problem because the Old Quarter is super dense, with most places being no more than a fifteen to twenty-minute walk. While I traveled by foot, the main way locals get around is by moped. I’ve shared my love of mopeds in the past, but my experience in Hanoi made me reevaluate my love. These things are loud and everywhere. Crossing a street means weaving through a sea of mopeds (on streets where stoplights are optional). I was told you would be fine walking across with your eyes closed (but I wouldn’t recommend it). 

Dodging mopeds still felt a lot safer than sidestepping the metal death boxes that are automobiles. Still, I’ll admit I found the constant engine roar of hundreds of mopeds to be annoying. I definitely wouldn’t mind if people switched to the all-electric kind. But I did experience a quieter Hanoi when ambling through the weekend market when roads are shut down to traffic. 

Even with that though, Hanoi is not peaceful, it’s loud and chaotic. And I absolutely loved it. Hanoi is a California NIMBY’s nightmare: sidewalks are blocked by restaurant patrons and parked mopeds, there is a constant din of conversation as people converse over coffee, and the warm night air is pierced by drunken karaoke. Even with bars closing early at 1 am, I felt much more excitement and energy in Hanoi than I do in San Francisco, where it feels like retirees dictate the social life in the city. 

While not as dense, Bangkok still has a similar energy. Part of that I attribute to the much looser zoning found there versus California. Residential neighborhoods aren’t strictly residential, and you can find a variety of businesses like sake bars, bougie Korean BBQ spots, and more when taking a stroll. Meanwhile, in the United States, neighborhoods are strictly for sleep, work, or play. Outside of San Francisco’s older neighborhoods where businesses were established before strict zoning, it can be rare to find fun spots to eat and drink in residential neighborhoods which can make them sleepy and boring. 

It probably helps that restaurants, bars, and cafes can seem to pop up in any space without restrictions. In Bangkok, I had beers at a tiny bar the size of a garage. Still, the space felt cozy and welcoming, so welcoming in fact that the bar owner wanted to take a photo with all his patrons. In Hanoi, balcony cafes filled with lush green plants pepper the city, and banh mi and bun cha joints fill every nook and cranny. I can’t imagine the amount of red tape business owners would need to wade through for a similar experience in San Francisco. 

While it’s hard to know for sure as a tourist, housing in Hanoi and Bangkok seemed to be relatively affordable for people who live there. Part of that is due to the fact that children usually live in multigenerational households passed down from family members. But it was shocking for me to learn that a Bangkok hotel worker could afford to live within 5 minutes of walking from their job. While not the highest paying profession, they could still afford a studio close to their workplace. Meanwhile in San Francisco, you have techies with six-figure salaries rooming together in one-hundred-year-old apartments. Many people in other professions are forced to live hours away from the city, chained to their automobiles. 

My trip was brief and there was only so much I could learn wearing the rose-tinted glasses of a tourist. Being back in San Francisco, I’m reminded of a lot of the conveniences that I appreciate living in the city. Still, it’s nice to get out of the Bay Area bubble and remember that dense, lively cities where citizens aren’t forced to drive isn’t an unusual sight.

I previously reflected on 2020, paradoxically both a scary and calm year. The world was entirely shut down and life moved a lot more slowly, for better or worse. Since then, the pace of life has dramatically accelerated and 2021 through 2022 have blurred by. For many people, the end of 2020 marked the end of the misery of the pandemic. For me, that misery never hit suddenly, but trickled over time through 2021, motivating big changes in 2022. 

The Post-Vaccine Party

The beginning of 2021, saw another lockdown. Covid cases had been rising at the end of 2020 prompting outdoor drinking and dining to be shut down again. After having experienced a taste of freedom, it felt like I was suddenly back to March 2020. I hated feeling like things were out of my control, and this motivated me to make a big move, moving from my apartment with roommates to a one-bedroom. Okay so maybe this wasn’t the biggest move, since I only moved a few blocks away. But finally moving into my own space felt like a big step up. I got very lucky since the beginning of the year saw ludicrously low rents (at least for San Francisco), as people didn’t think the city would come back.

During the first quarter of 2021, I was also impatiently waiting for my vaccine. I was jealous of a few friends who were already vaccinated, as they worked in medicine. A trip to Lake Tahoe reinforced this feeling. As my partially vaccinated group made our way into a casino, we saw more people crammed together than we had ever seen during the pandemic. While my vaccinated friends were unbothered, I felt uneasy, even as the person who constantly broke the covid bubble. While life seemed to return to normal for many people, it wasn’t there for me yet.

I was so ready for a return to normal life that I cut in line to get my Johnson & Johnson vaccine in April (not realizing that vaccines would open up to all a week later). But I didn’t care, once I was vaccinated, I felt like I was finally out of the pandemic. Finally, I could make up for lost time. 

The summer of 2021 felt like a big party. With bars and restaurants reopening, I was finally able to revisit all of my favorite places. I expanded beyond my covid bubble, catching up with old friends and making new ones. I traveled constantly over the summer, from coast to coast and even spending a month working from Mexico City.  While the Delta variant flared up, I could care less, Covid was over for me. 

The Covid Hangover

But as summer rolled into fall, I was starting to feel unhappy. I constantly compared my life to where I had been in 2019, and what I was expecting a post-covid life to feel like. While I enjoyed reopenings and traveling, I didn’t feel like my life was “back to normal” yet. I soon realized that I was burnt out from work. It’s not like I was working crazy hours, but there were two reasons why I felt unhappy. 

For one, I felt drained having worked from home for nearly 2 years. Socializing is a big reason why I enjoy work, and I missed the friends I had in the office before the pandemic hit. The fact that our office reopening was delayed and that we were moving out of our San Francisco HQ meant there was no reason to look forward to that social life ever coming back. 

Additionally, I lost motivation in my work itself, and workdays started to feel meaningless.  When I first started, I was learning a lot, making new friends, and watching the company grow. By the end of 2021, I had gotten a promotion and felt like I had learned what I wanted to. I lost interest in the product I was working on, and the growth of the company started to falter as people ditched their phones for real life. 

While my weekends were great, not feeling good about 5 days of the week felt shitty.  As 2022 rolled around the corner, I knew it was time for more changes. To start, I began this blog. Since I wasn’t inspired at work, I wanted to create something that would feel meaningful to me and that I could share with my friends. I challenged myself to writing an article every 2 weeks (after having faltered from so many hobbies), which I’ve more or less managed to do. 

At the beginning of the year, I also got a lot more involved with YIMBY Action. Housing policy and building better cities are causes close to my heart, and being involved with a group doing good was energizing. Volunteering with several campaigns was a unique and new experience for me, giving me the opportunity to meet a lot of interesting activists and volunteers.

And finally, I quit my job without one lined up. I took the plunge against the advice I had heard from so many. This shocked my coworkers and even myself. Working at Zynga was actually the best job experience I had had, so why leave? While I wasn’t completely miserable, I was still burnt out. I knew I needed to make a big change to push myself out of complacency and take a risk to find something truly exciting. And I was lucky that I had enough saved to hold me over. 

Spring of 2022 was a blur, with a mixture of job hunting and social life. I wasn’t the only one making changes, as several of my San Francisco friends moved out, heading to New York, Los Angeles, and other places. In April, I finally contracted Covid, a milestone in its own way. And in July, I finally started a new job at a startup, finally seeing coworkers in person and feeling excited about what we’re building. 

Three years later

It’s crazy reflecting on how quickly the last few years have gone. Each year definitely felt progressively faster, judging by the number of paragraphs I wrote for each. So is life “back to normal”? Did I make up for lost time, and am I finally back to the post-Covid life I imagined?

Absolutely not! So much has changed, from some of my favorite businesses being closed to close friends moving out. In addition, the world itself feels more chaotic. Recessions in tech feel like a dark storm cloud, and god knows how long the War in Ukraine will last. So when will the post-Covid “normal life” hit?

And that’s when I realized, it won’t. In fact, this is normal, this is life. I had spent several years of the pandemic waiting for a return to normal when it was staring me in the face. While I spent some days in 2020 enjoying the present, much of my time after that was spent either reminiscing on the past or looking forward to the future. 

I had defined March 2020 as the start of my “pandemic era”. But as 2022 comes to a close, I think it’s time I stopped dividing my life into neat little categories to compare with. Heading into the new year, I’m looking forward to just experiencing life as is and welcoming this new normal.

The Covid-19 pandemic era started around the same time for most of us: March 2020. That’s when lockdowns started and we were stuck at home watching Tiger King and baking bread. But when did it end for you? Did it end at the beginning of 2021? When you got your first vaccine? When you got covid? 

My “Covid-19” era ended earlier this year, with life feeling finally feeling “back to normal”. But like we heard all throughout the pandemic, it’s a “new normal”. A lot has changed since March 2020, and I feel like many of us entered and exited the pandemic era as completely different people. As 2022 comes to a close, I wanted to spend some time looking back to reflect on how life changed throughout my pandemic era, starting with 2020. 

Whispers of the Pandemic

In January 2020, I was looking forward to what the new year would bring. I had started a new job as a Product Manager at Zynga, and this was my first time working at a big tech company, having been at smaller scrappier startups before. I finally got to experience the big tech company perks I’d heard so much about and was starting to make new friends at work, sharing drinks at happy hours and gaming with them at the arcade cabinets in the office. 

During a 1:1 with one of my coworkers, he shared that he was worried about a virus sweeping through his family’s hometown in China. He mentioned that he was pulling out of the stock market, afraid that something big was on the horizon. I figured he was being overly paranoid, and that there was no way a virus like that could hit the US (lol). 

The biggest thing I was worried about was norovirus, which hit Yosemite when I traveled there with some friends. I was traveling a lot throughout the beginning of the year and was looking forward to a year filled with many more trips (RIP). In February, as some friends and I made our way to San Diego, one health-conscious friend masked up on his flights, worried about the news he had heard about Coronavirus. Still, even he didn’t think it was so serious, imagining it to be like a more intense flu. 

The danger of coronavirus got more real as tech companies announced indefinite work-from-home and events got canceled. The Games Developer Conference, which I was looking forward to attending as a Zynga employee, was scrapped. Cleaning supplies and wet wipes in Safeway were cleared out. The seriousness of the pandemic really hit me once the NBA started canceling games. 

Before everything shut down, I remember going out for some Thai food with a friend in early March. We were out near Market Street and things were eerily empty, with only a few daring souls outside.  As we were eating, I felt a little tense, thinking that I was taking a big risk socializing with the virus spreading.  As we left the restaurant, I remember rushing home, as if any more time spent outside would increase my likelihood of succumbing to the virus.

The Shutdown

On March 16th, the San Francisco Bay Area officially announced “shelter in place”. All businesses were shut down, except for essential services like grocery stores. My quirky neighbors next door started playing the theme from the movie Titanic (when the ship is sinking) on their accordion. 

March through April was a weird time. It was hard to focus at work (I don’t think anyone was really working). I was fortunate, as the gaming industry was one that benefitted from the pandemic, as most people moved their social lives to the web. I remember spreading Instagram chain messages and playing Left 4 Dead and Portal online with friends. Animal Crossing, Tiger King, and baking sourdough bread were the popular trends of the day. 

I started to get cabin fever and spent my time running. I ventured out to now desolate tourist hotspots like Fisherman’s Wharf and the Embarcadero. There were few people outside. I was so bored that I started running more and more, which eventually culminated in a 12-mile run across the Golden Gate Bridge and back. While I saw some life return as I made my runs through the Marina and saw some illegitimate outdoor bars, I still felt totally bored not being able to see my friends in person, as we were still worried about contracting the virus. 

In the middle of April, I decided to go back home to my family in Los Angeles and ended up spending 3 months there. Spending time with family ended up being completely rejuvenating, as I hadn’t spent that much time with family since my summers in college. As an only child, it was nice spending a lot more time with them doing things like going on bike rides along Venice Beach, watching movies with a bottle of wine, and spending nights playing board games. But as covid cases dropped in San Francisco, friends ventured out and started seeing each other again. I felt a bit of FOMO and made my way back to San Francisco in July. 

A New Normal

The summer of 2020 was the age of the friend group bubble. Prior to covid, I was used to a hyper-social life, catching up with circles of friends over food and drinks. But with the threat of the pandemic, many of us limited our social interactions to a limited set of people, and I spent most of my time with a bubble of 3 other friends. Although to be honest, I constantly broke the bubble and caught up with other friends here and there. 

During this time, the city of San Francisco was a completely different place. Gone was the hustle and bustle of shuffling tech workers and tourists. Fisherman’s Wharf was now filled with locals and a peaceful quiet fell over the city as no one commuted in. The city encouraged restaurants to build parklets for outdoor dining and some streets were closed to traffic entirely. With these changes and the low stress of work, I felt like I was now living in a European seaside village. I spent a lot of time out with friends, drinking wine in the park and munching on Italian eats at outdoor patios. In the evenings, we spent time at a friend’s place, playing board and video games and watching movies. 

I really enjoyed the way life slowed down. But it wasn’t all great. While cases were low, the pandemic was still looming over our heads and I kept wondering when would it be over. There were many covid scares where friends and I went to get tested (none of us ever got it). I was ready to see my other friends, to travel, to go back to bars and normal life. I remember feeling that I had nothing to look forward to, especially with rumors of a vaccine not being available until 2023. But at the same time, this forced me to focus on living life in the present. 

A low point during this year were the California wildfires in September. The state was hit hard and air quality dropped all across the bay. Now there was no place to take refuge, as indoor locations were shut down (because of covid) and the outdoors was too smoky (because of the fires). One morning I woke up in darkness, thinking I had set my alarm to the wrong time. But I checked the time, it was actually 8:30 am but the smoke was so bad that it blocked out the sun. I walked out to a Martian landscape of orange skies, like something out of Blade Runner. 

Still, I tried to make the most of this time. I managed to make a couple of small trips to Lake Tahoe and Santa Barbara. I got more involved in local politics, starting my volunteering with SF YIMBY to aid in a city council race. During the 2020 election, I remember sitting with some friends outside in the cold at a bar, watching the election results come in and seeing Biden’s victory. 

A Covid Winter 

I was optimistic that things were going back to normal, and I attempted to plan another trip with friends. But right around the election, covid cases started skyrocketing across the country. As the holidays came along, I decided to go back to Los Angeles to spend some time with family during Thanksgiving and Christmas. But this time around, it was much less enjoyable.

In Los Angeles, covid cases were extremely high, and after having spent nearly half a year not worrying about the virus, I started to freak out. Vaccines weren’t out, and I was worried about putting my family at risk. We were no longer going out in the sun and spent most of our time indoors. It started to feel like a repeat of March, but after having experienced a taste of freedom over the summer, I was over it. After Christmas, I decided to make my way back to San Francisco and prepared to enter 2021. 

Looking back, 2020 was a weird year. It was stressful worrying about the virus and wondering when life would get back to normal. Still, there were some silver linings in the peaceful times with family and with friends. It was a somewhat calm time before the energy of 2021, which I’ll save for a future post. 

I’m sorry Los Angeles, I have betrayed you. For 18 years the city of Los Angeles was my home. This is where I grew up, being bathed by the warm sun in Venice, fed mouth-watering barbecue in KTown, and serenaded to sleep by the stream of jets flying into LAX. But after a decade in the bay (5 years in San Francisco), I can’t even fathom going back to Los Angeles. 

I guess part of the American experience is leaving your hometown for new adventures. The thing is though, it’s not like I’d be moving back to some small podunk town. I’d be moving back to Los Angeles, a global city that is the world’s entertainment capital filled with beautiful beaches and fantastic food. 

But it’s hard for me to imagine an adult life there. Growing up, I remember feeling stuck at home in the suburbs by the airport. Going anywhere interesting required getting into a car, heading out on the 405 freeway, and preparing for a nasty parking situation. After living in a (much more) walkable city, I can’t imagine spending my life stuck in traffic. 

But I’ve come to the realization, can I truly judge LA? While I did spend most of my life there, I never really experienced what it is like to be an adult in Los Angeles. I’ve never experienced the nightlife, bar scene, or culture of the city as a twenty-something. And while I do have some misgivings about the city, I also have a soft spot for LA: the beaches, the weather, and the prevalent Mexican-American culture. 

I didn’t want to completely write off LA; maybe as an adult, it’s a totally different experience. Do the things I love about LA make up for the traffic and sprawl? Are there things that I never experienced as a kid that make LA worth it? I decided to speak with a few friends who experienced adult lives in Los Angeles but also in other big cities (San Francisco, New York City). What’s so great about LA?

For starters, diversity. Especially for my friends who lived in San Francisco, Los Angeles can feel much more diverse. My friend Oscar noted that Los Angeles has a much richer Latino community, something that I find myself missing in San Francisco. Diversity isn’t reflected just by race or culture, but also by occupations and lifestyles. A friend of mine who recently moved from SF to LA noted that he felt that more “normal people” lived in the city, meaning not just people looking to climb the tech career ladder. Los Angeles has a rich arts scene, stretching beyond film to music and video games. With several major universities, you have many folks pursuing careers in medicine, law, and more. Beyond that, Los Angeles feels like a place much better suited to raising kids than San Francisco or New York. 

This diversity is also reflected in the incredible cuisines found in the city. My friends called out food as a highlight of Los Angeles. From homey Mexican and Vietnamese restaurants to Michelin-starred Japanese and French joints, Los Angeles has a plethora of options to choose from. Los Angeles has an exciting coffee culture, with many options to satisfy your palette. Beyond food, there’s just a huge number of options for things to do and see in the city. The beach, incredible amusement parks, sightseeing, and exploring neighborhoods like Little Tokyo, Venice, Beverly Hills, and more. It’s hard to be bored in Los Angeles. 

The weather was something my friends called out, and I couldn’t agree more. Most of the year, Los Angeles is filled with sunny skies and barely a rainy day. Jackets are optional, and snow is never an option. For people who would rather not be bogged down by umbrellas or snowboots, it’s hard to beat Los Angeles. But if you’re looking for something else, the chilly alpine quiet of Lake Arrowhead or the desert sun of Las Vegas are not too far away.

Los Angeles is a massive city, and all the people living there help contribute to its vibrant culture, diversity, and sheer amount of activities to do. But according to many of my friends, the city's size also contributes to what they hate about it. 

The issue isn’t about the number of people, it’s about how painful it is to get around. My friends called out the need for a car being a sore spot, and this was what I remembered growing up. Needing to plan for parking and dealing with traffic were frustrations that I remembered, and ones that bogged down my friends’ adult lives. They wished for better public transit, more connected neighborhoods, and more walkable spaces. While every neighborhood is a gem, it’s better to spend an entire day in just one than deal with the pain of getting around.  

Additionally, while diversity was called out as a benefit, in comparison to other cities my friends noted that Los Angeles still has room for improvement. For one, people can be fairly cliquey in the city. This could be due to how hard it can be to even see people, on account of the sprawl and traffic. But one friend called out that Los Angeles has shallow networking culture, mostly driven by the entertainment business. It can feel like a different flavor of the type of shallow networking seen in career-driven Silicon Valley. This culture can lead to some difficulty in making new friends. 

Los Angeles is also very segregated. Compared to New York City, where everyone rides the subway, a friend called out that in LA people aren’t very integrated. The layout and infrastructure of the city don’t help, since people have few opportunities to cross paths on the street and spend most of their time on the freeway. Los Angeles can feel less like a melting pot and more like a fruit salad. 

After listening to my friends and learning about what they liked and disliked about Los Angeles, I was disappointed. There was a part of me hoping to learn about some new redeeming quality about the city, something that could convince me to move back. But it seems as though the experiences I had growing up were pretty representative of adult life, even though I was under 21. 

And that makes me sad. The things that make LA great are truly amazing: weather, food, people, diversity, and culture. In an ideal world, Los Angeles would be another world-class city like London or Tokyo. But because of how painful traffic is, and how atrocious it is to get around without a car, the city can feel like a barren desert, with a few oases of fun in between. Someone on Twitter described LA as “shitty heaven” and I couldn’t agree more (NYC is “fun hell”).

Living in San Francisco has given me a lot of perspective on what I like and dislike about LA, and for my friends, living in other places has helped them reflect on their preferences. One friend explicitly wished more people would experience spending some time living outside of LA to bring back ideas to make the city better. For people anywhere (I’m looking at you, San Francisco), spending time somewhere else really can open your eyes to what is out there, and make you realize what you appreciate and what should be changed. 

Today, it’s hard for me to imagine going back to Los Angeles. But if the city gets its shit together to build a solid transit network and densify so that the city can be more affordable and walkable, I’ll be getting my bags ready. 

With tech stocks falling and layoffs across the board, I’ve been thinking a lot about where the tech industry is headed. As someone in the industry, I’d rather not see it go belly up, but murmurs online have me on edge. Some folks claim that the next recession will be like the 2001 bubble bursting, with Fucked Companies left and right. But I’m a bit more optimistic, considering that today's world is much different than it was in 2001. 

In fact, it’s crazy to look back and think how much the world has changed, especially with respect to technology. Being a younger millennial, I still vaguely remember a time pre-Internet, but I definitely remember the pre-smartphone days. Growing up, I never would have imagined myself in the tech industry. It’s hard to imagine what the future will hold, but maybe looking back 20 years can clue us in.

Post-Bubble

I was 8 years old when the tech bubble burst, and I don’t remember it at all. In elementary school, “tech” existed in the background. Book reports were handwritten, usually in cursive. We learned how to use the Dewey Decimal System to find books at the library. I have hazy memories of using a computer, like the look and sound of Windows 98 and Clippy. I mostly remember video games, from the SNES and N64, to making the pivotal choice between the PS2 and the Gamecube (I was team PS2). 

In middle school, I started using computers a bit more. We would use them in computer labs (it’s funny to think of computers in a “lab” like a biology or chemistry lab). Most of my exposure to them was playing educational games like Zoombinis, the Oregon Trail, and Mavis Beacon Teaches Typing. At home, my family eventually upgraded to Windows XP. I remember eventually writing school papers, not on Google Docs or Microsoft Word but on WordPerfect. Before Google Maps, I remember printing MapQuest directions for my mom to drive me to friends’ houses (we never bought a Garmin GPS). 

I remember when bookstores were everywhere (when Amazon only sold books). I remember when Netflix mailed movies (I used GameFly for mailed video games). At the time, the only Apple product I interacted with was the iPod Mini. I remember my mom had a Nokia cellphone that I would use to play snake. Later in middle school, I eventually got a cellphone, a flip phone I rarely used except for emergencies. I remember playing a lot of Runescape with friends and going on Miniclip to play flash games or Newgrounds to watch flash animations. YouTube became popular, where hits like Charlie the Unicorn and Potter Puppet Pals were popular with my class. I chatted with friends on AIM, and in 2008 we all briefly decided to make MySpace pages. 

Early iPhone Days & “Peak” Tech

The iPhone was launched in 2007, and I remember the early days of the App Store on my iPod Touch in 2008. The early App Store was mostly filled with toy apps, like a Gun App and Lighter App. Doodle Jump and Angry Birds were some of the most popular games, and App icons still ported the skeuomorphic design. In high school, I eventually traded in my flip phone for an iPhone which was also where I got started with Facebook. I remember the early days when it felt much more like a tight-knit community. Facebook walls were filled with posts from friends, not ads, and we spent our time playing Zynga’s Farmville and Mafia Wars. Video gaming become much more connected, with nights spent playing games online with friends on Xbox Live.

High School was also where I encountered Mac computers for the first time. I remember Macs feeling completely foreign to me, unlike the Windows machines I grew up with. But this was where I spent time creating my first Gmail account and continuing to explore the internet’s early meme culture. I remember friends running Project 64 to play N64 games, and using StumbleUpon to find interesting new websites. I started using Pandora to listen to music while I would work. 

While tech was growing, it never really hit me as I left high school for college. Taking CS 106A at Stanford, Mehran Sahami shared a slide showing the vast number of computer science jobs compared to the number of candidates (along with Karel the Robot). But I still considered myself a Mechanical Engineer at heart. Being at the heart of Silicon Valley though, it was hard to avoid the allure of tech.

In college, I remember the onslaught of new apps I encountered. I remember signing up for Venmo to pay friends and GroupMe for group projects. I remember using tools like Doodle and When2Meet to help with scheduling. DoorDash posters were all across campus as they were getting started, and Snapchat and Instagram dominated the social sphere. YikYak existed, briefly. I remember hearing about the drama at Theranos down the road. And I remember getting high with some members of the Stanford Bitcoin Mafia thinking it was stupid (turns out I was stupid)

After a summer working for an old-school aerospace company, I couldn’t see myself sitting in a traditional engineering company for the next 40 years, and I got caught up in the tech wave. By this point, “tech” was becoming mainstream, with the Google recruiting ad/movie The Internship and Silicon Valley (the TV show) hitting the screens. I dabbled with launching a startup with some friends. As I entered junior and senior year, I remember Lyft’s pink mustaches, and a friend taking an Uber home from my dorm every weekend. I finally experienced staying in an Airbnb for the first time for a graduation trip. 

Tech Push Back and Pushing Forward

For the most part, it had felt like there was only optimism around tech. Folks were excited about the new wave of technology companies that were springing up and all the opportunities available. I joined a startup as a Data Scientist, deemed “The Sexiest Job of the 21st Century”. It felt like the only way tech was moving was up. And then, Donald Trump won the 2016 election. 

From that point, social media like Facebook and Twitter (deservedly) received a lot criticism for helping Donald Trump win the presidency. #DeleteUber was trending after Uber was allegedly strikebreaking after Trump’s ban on immigration from several Muslim majority countries. Airbnb was accused of sparking gentrification in cities around the world.

And yet, the tech industry continued to grow. I saw the rise of FinTech companies like Affirm, Plaid, and Chime. Businesses serving other businesses became hot, like Slack, Figma, Asana, and more. While social apps had slowed down, apps like TikTok showed there were still worthy contenders. I purchased an Oculus Quest and was awed by wireless virtual reality. Bitcoin and crypto saw new highs, with a peak in 2017. While there was excitement around the crypto space, there was also suspicion, especially after the crash.

When Covid-19 hit, the tech industry was initially hit hard with several waves of layoffs. But as the world got used to social distancing, the industry bounced back thanks to a generous money supply and an online-only world. Zoom and Peloton stock hit crazy highs. The crypto hype grew even more with the rise of NFTs and Web3. Facebook rebranded to Meta, imagining an online-only virtual world. Things got a little crazy. I mean are you kidding me, Swimply? 

As life returned to normal, the hangover hit. Tech stocks have cratered, and layoffs hit a peak in the summer. Still, there were some exciting advances in tech. Self-driving cars actually hit the streets, with Waymo and Cruise (fully self-driving) making their way around San Francisco. AI Art tools like DALL-E and Stable Diffusion have generated insane images, all from simple text prompts. 

So, what’s next?

I’m no mind reader, it’s hard to predict the future. But reflecting on the last 20 years of tech, the industry has matured since I was a kid. The internet was still the wild west when I was in elementary school, but now feels mostly dominated by a few larger companies. While smartphones saw a Cambrian explosion of apps in the 2010s, I can’t imagine how hard it is for a new mobile app developer. 

It seems like the lowest hanging fruit has been claimed, but opportunities in tech still abound in less obvious places. Industries with specialized knowledge like medicine, law, and hardware engineering may have problems worth solving with scalable software solutions (and several companies have cropped up to solve problems in these fields).

The advances in AI are especially exciting, but they need to be applied to solving real problems. While self-driving cars are cool, I’m bearish about the opportunity in the space. I think tools like Stable Diffusion offer a hint to the future, AI tools to help folks (from creatives to office workers) more efficiently create and do good work. 

When it comes to blockchain and crypto… it’s harder for me to make a prediction there with so much noise. I understand the excitement around creating a brand new platform. Companies that can create and own a platform become invaluable, like Microsoft and Apple with PCs, Apple and Google with mobile, and Amazon (AWS) and Google (Cloud) with the internet. But while I still can’t see what problem they’re solving, it’s still worth keeping an eye on.

Looking back, the tech industry has come a far way from when I was a kid. While we may be entering a recessionary period, looking ahead, there are still more exciting places for it to go. 

Last week, the SF Chronicle released a series of articles describing the results of a poll the newspaper conducted on the city’s citizens and the results were… not great. Many San Franciscans are unhappy with the state of the city when it comes to issues like homelessness, affordability, and crime. A question that stood out to me asked citizens of different age groups if they could see themselves in San Francisco in the next 3 years. For about half of San Franciscans aged 25-35, that answer was no. 

I’ve lived in San Francisco for nearly 6 years now, and sadly the results of the poll are not that surprising. Seeing friends leave the city makes me feel bitter about the city’s shortcomings. But at the same time, many other friends can’t imagine living anywhere else.  I feel truly blessed to be living in San Francisco, and I’m afraid of what I’d be sacrificing living elsewhere. Living in San Francisco is truly a love-hate relationship, and after some time here, I’m better able to articulate what I love and hate about the city. 

An Unbeatable Park Game

Hands-down, San Francisco is home to some of the most beautiful parks in, if not the country, the world. Growing up in Los Angeles, I was used to parks being a little more than half-dead grass fields surrounded by a couple of cracked concrete basketball courts. Parks in San Francisco are truly an art form, each with their own vibe. Alamo Square Park is perfect for a scenic picnic with friends. Washington Square Park offers easy access to Italian gelato and views of Coit Tower. Dolores Park is essentially San Francisco’s beach (minus the water). And of course, Golden Gate Park takes you out of the city entirely, immersing you in nature. I love that even while living in a city, I’m only a 10 minute walk from a bunch of incredible parks. 

Distinct Neighborhoods with Different Flavors

Each neighborhood in San Francisco offers a different vibe, making it feel like living in multiple cities at once. Whether you’re out in the Castro, Mission, Polk Gulch, North Beach, Marina, or more, you can spend an entire day eating and drinking in one of San Francisco’s many neighborhoods and still not experience everything they have to offer. One of the best parts is that they are close together, so taking a trip from, say Japantown to the Richmond, can be accomplished in one day. While this isn’t necessarily unique to San Francisco, compared to Los Angeles where I grew up, the accessibility makes all the difference. 

Walkability and Transit

Speaking of which, this is where my love/hate of the city really begins. On the one hand, coming from Los Angeles, San Francisco’s transit is an absolute godsend, so much so that I sold my car 3 months into moving to the city. MUNI and BART make it easy and inexpensive to live without a car, having been a regular part of my commute pre-Covid. And even with all its hills, San Francisco is still fairly walkable, as I average about 4 miles a day on foot. 

However, compared to my experience in cities like New York, Chicago, Mexico City, Kyoto, and more, San Francisco’s transit leaves a lot to be desired. For one, transit in San Francisco can be fairly infrequent and unreliable. I can’t count how many times I’ve waited for a bus for it not to appear. Sometimes taking transit doesn’t even make sense, especially if my choice is between a 30-minute bus ride and a 40-minute walk. While I don’t have a car, I do rely heavily on Revel mopeds and Ubers. Without those, getting around San Francisco would feel a lot more frustrating. 

The Fog City Climate

Many San Franciscans proudly boast that the city’s climate is the best. While I don’t disagree, I don’t think it’s all that great either. I much prefer San Francisco’s weather to dreary Seattle, brittle Chicago, and bipolar New York City. But having come from Los Angeles, I would argue that SoCal generally has better weather. While the September and October months offer some of the best days for picnicking, I’ve always felt that the city feels just slightly too chilly on account of the wind. Every tourist wearing a San Francisco sweatshirt is a testament to the expectation that, hey, the weather could be a little warmer. 

People and Diversity

What brings me joy in cities are the people. As an extrovert, there’s no place I’d rather be than surrounded by strangers with different lives and stories. San Franciscans are an interesting and quirky bunch, and I’ve been fortunate to make friends with many folks who have chosen to make the city their home or were born and raised here. The city offers diversity that you wouldn’t find in any small town.

However, I do feel that the city isn’t as diverse as you would expect. Being Mexican-American, one of the biggest things I miss is my Latino community, which is much smaller in San Francisco than it is in Los Angeles. In fact, San Francisco is a predominately White and Asian city, with a much smaller Latino and Black population.

But another aspect of diversity that’s missing is career diversity. As a college-educated yuppie, most of my friends are deep in their professional lives. But whereas you may find a wide variety of academics, filmmakers, lawyers, doctors, and more in places like New York and Los Angeles, you will find San Francisco being completely dominated by techies. It might seem a little hypocritical (being a techie myself), but the stranglehold that tech has on the city is a bit much. While the Chronicle did find that the city doesn’t blame tech for its problems, personally I would love to see other industries in addition to tech gain a foothold here. 

Dysfunction and the Status Quo

While you might see an unassuming laundromat above, the city of San Francisco sees a landmark worthy of historic preservation. In fact, 75-units of housing were denied due to neighbors complaining that the apartment would be too large, eliminate views, and cast shadows. As a last-ditch effort, neighbors delayed the project by having a study conducted to see if the laundromat was a landmark. 

There are many things that I truly hate about San Francisco. The fact that the city rejects housing over parking lots. The fact that it can cost $200K for a business owner to open up an Ice Cream shop (and fall to the city’s bureaucracy). The fact that parklets, the one good thing to come out of covid, could disappear from the city next year. 

If I had to summarize it, I get the feeling that the city is satisfied with the status quo, and actively impedes progress. Some of the San Franciscans made the city their home in the 60s and 70s successfully downzoned neighborhoods like Haight-Ashbury, and seem to wish that the city could return to that era. 

It’s frustrating to see that a city that is supposedly a beacon of progressivism is in fact burdened by truly conservative people who wish to encase the city in amber. If that’s not bad enough, a nativist sentiment has brewed online, pitting “native” San Franciscans against anyone who would dare want to move here. 

I see the consequences of these decisions playing out among my friends. Some who are looking for a more exciting life have decided to venture out to New York City, or some other place with a vibrant cultural scene. Those looking to settle down and have kids have decided that San Francisco’s prices, crime, and poor schools are just not worth it. The stat that there are more dogs than kids in San Francisco is honestly, truly sad. 

It’s frustrating to know that a lot of these problems are due to bad policies, policies that can be changed. But fighting back against embedded power structures can feel like trench warfare, with progress being made ever so slowly. 

Hate and Love

San Francisco can be maddening. But unlike Fox News conservatives who diss the city and want to watch it fall into the Pacific, my hate comes from the fact that I love this city. And it’s absolutely frustrating to see how it gets in its own way. San Francisco is a city with so much opportunity and potential, and it is truly mindblowing to see it go to waste. 

My involvement in YIMBY Action stems from my desire to see the city change for the better. And it does seem like the tide is starting to turn. But as some friends leave and as I start to get tired of the status quo, my mind starts to wander to other places. Some San Franciscans seem to think the city is the center of the universe, and while I do love the city, it’s a big world out there. But at the end of the day, the city of San Francisco has a special place in my heart. This is my home, and I want to fight to make it better. 

The Metaverse was everywhere I looked earlier this year, and I just didn’t buy it. From companies claiming they would build a real version of Ready Player One to Facebook’s Meta rebranding and more, it was impossible to avoid in early 2022. Yet even with all the hype around it, it was an idea that just didn’t fly with me. 

For starters, it just felt so dystopian. Ready Player One’s real world is crumbling, with players preferring to spend their time in virtual reality. I remembered the early 2000s young adult novel Pendragon, where the main characters end up on a dead planet, whose inhabitants had lived perfect virtual lives before running out of food (man I forgot young adult novels were dark). 

But the biggest thing that got me is that it feels so antisocial. Instead of spending face time with friends and family, you’re just… what, flailing your arms around in the living room?  Who would ever want to do that? I was thinking, of course this was dreamt up by Silicon Valley suburbanites. But then suddenly, I got it. After thinking for a bit, the appeal of the metaverse did start to make some sense to me, because I remembered living a prototypical version of it all the way back in 2006. 

When I was in middle school living in suburban Los Angeles, it was hard to go out and see friends. Besides one neighbor, most of my friends were driving distance away, and it’s not like they were giving 6th graders licenses to drive. But what I did have was Runescape. It was basically a cheaper version of World of Warcraft, a massive multiplayer open-world game. There were quests to complete and monsters to slay, all in a world where you could get together with your friends and thousands of other people. It was incredibly liberating to have access to an entire world when the real world was so inaccessible. 

In high school, the games of choice became Halo and Call of Duty. With Xbox live, I was mic’d up and could now voice chat with my friends (and get in arguments with strangers). I remember endless matches of Search and Destroy in Modern Warfare 2 and long nights of Black Ops Zombies. While I eventually did get a license to drive, friends living a 40-minute ride from my home made socializing a lot tougher. If I wanted to socialize with friends, the best way to do it was with a few late-night online games. 

College was when the “proto-metaverse” started to come apart. Instead of being miles from my friends, I was a 5-minute walk from them. Why would I ever go online when I could grab food and drinks with my friends in person? Gaming was still a part of my college experience, but instead of online, it was split-screen matches of Beerio Kart. If I did play online games, it was in a room with my friends and our laptops as we attempted to defeat each other in Civilization V. 

Ever since college and beyond, online multiplayer gaming has never really been a part of my life. Living in San Francisco, my friends are still very accessible, and there’s no reason for me to play online when I can meet my friends at a bar in person. Split-screen gaming is still a part of my life, as it’s always a good time to host friends with some drinks and rounds of Boomerang Fu. 

The one time I briefly returned to the metaverse was in the spring of 2020. When the world was quarantined and the outside world was closed for business, I found solace in being able to return online to see friends, playing games like Left 4 Dead 2 in order to continue to socialize. But as the world returned to normal, online gaming disappeared from my life once more. 

Looking back at my time in Los Angeles, I can see the appeal of something like the metaverse. If you can’t get out of the house (because you’re too young or too old), how else can you get together with your friends? Games like Fortnite and Roblox (games that claim to focus on the metaverse) are just a continuation of the same online culture that existed in the early 2010s. While living in a dense city like San Francisco makes socializing in person a breeze, for millions of Americans (and people around the world), it’s much easier to socialize over an internet connection. 

So really, I don’t see anything too crazy in the idea of the metaverse, as it’s solving the problem of social isolation. What is crazy to me though, is that the metaverse is a viable solution to that problem. But I get it. After 70 years of car-focused planning, changing our cities to be more dense and walkable is a challenge. Instead of being excited for the future of the metaverse though, I’m instead excited for the future of our real world, where folks can live in a place where seeing friends and socializing is as easy as going online. 

Over the last few months, the number of articles talking about gentrification in Mexico City has reached a fever pitch. From discussions on messageboards like Reddit to pieces in the Los Angeles Times, Vox, and SFGate, it felt like I couldn’t go anywhere online without seeing another cookie-cutter article about gentrification in Mexico. At this point, it felt like Americans were gentrifying my internet. But this writing trend did not crop up without good reason though. This year, many of my Millennial Yuppie friends have made Mexico City their top destination pick, whether for a weekend excursion or a months-long adventure. It seems Iceland is no longer the cool Millenial destination (even if it is literally cool).

Personally, I’m happy to see Mexico City getting more recognition. Having spent months of my early childhood there and regularly visiting to see family, the city has always held a special place in my heart, and it’s nice to see Americans finally branching out to a different destination besides Tulum and Cabo.

But with so much discussion surrounding the growing gentrification of Mexico City, I started to have doubts about my warm feeling toward American visitors. In fact, I was also a participant, having spent a month in Mexico City exactly almost a year ago, living north of the ritzy Polanco neighborhood. But while English-speaking news tended to have more negative coverage, Spanish discussion boards were much more mixed, with an even mix of positive and negative sentiments. So what’s going on here?

Americans living long-term in Mexico are nothing new. Many American retirees have flocked to cities like Ajijic and San Miguel de Allende, lured by a lower cost of living, beautiful scenery, and a more preferable climate. Personally, this never really sat well with me, as these expats generally live in isolated communities, refuse to learn Spanish and treat Mexicans like servants rather than neighbors. A sociology study even claimed that white retirees came to Mexico to avoid diversification and recoup “old-fashioned” values, a claim that really doesn’t surprise me.

What’s different this time is that now it’s younger Americans that are moving to Mexico, spurred on by the rise of remote work. Mexico is an attractive location as it’s a short flight from the continental US and sits in the same time zone. With a strong dollar, many young Americans find that they can live luxuriously. Unlike their baby boomer parents, millennials value “authentic” experiences, making a stay in Mexico City a popular choice.

Mexico City is massive, with a population of 21 million people, making it the fifth largest city in the world. While Americans make a small dent in that figure, they have become much more noticeable as they dominate only a few neighborhoods in the city, namely, Roma Norte and Condesa. These are the two neighborhoods that have hip reputations and are considered to be the most gentrified.

Why have these two neighborhoods borne the brunt of gentrification? The history of gentrified neighborhoods usually begins with them starting out as low-cost places to live that attract artists, and Roma Norte and Condesa are no exception. What many people don’t realize is, these neighborhoods had extremely low rents because of earthquake risk.

In 1985, an 8.0 magnitude earthquake ripped through Mexico City and led to the deaths of 5,000 people. Roma Norte and Condesa were hit especially hard because they sit on the remnants of Lake Texcoco, which was drained when the Spanish razed the Aztec island capital of Tenochtitlan to build Mexico City. While these neighborhoods were high-crime disaster zones immediately after the earthquake, they evolved into chic bohemian enclaves, becoming a desirable (and expensive) location. But on the anniversary of the 1985 earthquake, a 7.1 magnitude tremor struck the city in 2017, reminding residents of the peril and leading some to flee the neighborhood.

Most American digital nomads moving to Mexico City are unaware of this history. What they do see though, are gorgeous tree-lined streets bordered by neighborhood taqueries, art galleries, and upscale restaurants. But before Americans moved in, it was upper-class hipster Mexicans who fueled the neighborhood’s transformation.

So why have Americans drawn such ire online? It all started with a tweet.

As reported by Vox, Becca Sherman, an American tech worker, tweeted a gorgeous picture of a tree-lined stucco corridor from somewhere in the city. But instead of receiving positive replies, thousands of people, Mexicans and non-Mexicans alike, piled on her Tweet. “Please don’t,” said one. “This city is becoming more and more expensive every day in part because of people like you and you don’t even realize it or care about it.” American media eventually picked up on the online discussion and the very real trend, leading to the deluge of coverage.

But upon reading story after story, I felt like there was a lack of coverage from the Mexican perspective (and too many opinions from the hellsite that is Twitter). Additionally, American media loves to place American moral dilemmas onto places and people they don’t really understand. What do Mexicans really think of this situation?

Mexican news media has generally taken a different tone than their US counterparts, with more mixed reactions. A writer from Animal Politico argues that gentrification isn’t the only problem, but points to the racism and classism that permits it as well (racism and classim in Mexico can be even more visible than in the United States). Several articles from El Universal report not on gentrification, but on the curious online debate surrounding gentrification. And Mexican station Radio Formula argues that gentrification isn’t happening because Roma and Condesa were already unaffordable to those outside the upper-middle class to begin with.

I talked to several Mexican friends and family members to get their perspectives. Many of them really weren’t aware of the issue at all. When I shared some of the Mexican and American news articles, most of the opinions I received were fairly neutral. One cousin of mine who lives in Roma shared that it wasn’t Americans he would run into more frequently, but Argentines and Spaniards. This was especially interesting because American media made it feel as though Roma and Condesa were entirely gringo-fied.

Friends and family members did share a positive perspective, as they noted the economic pros of local businesses benefiting from the influx of visitors. Americans may be earning a lot more, but while they earn in dollars, they spend in pesos. Tourism has always been one of Mexico’s major industries, and this is a different flavor. But at the same time, my friends and family have noted that they are coming from a middle-class perspective, someone living on the fringes may have a different view. One of my favorite channels run by a Brit living in Mexico City covered the gentrification story and mentioned a local torteria in Roma that was forced to close up shop due to rising rents. Additionally, there are some ugly Americans refusing to mask up when rules were enforced and being a general nuisance.

So what’s the verdict here? Are Americans gentrifying Mexico? Is this good or bad? Like all things in life, it’s complicated. But after several interviews and diving into dozens of articles I can say this. Roma Norte and Condesa have been gentrified, not by Americans, but by middle and upper class Mexican hipsters. Some lower-income Mexicans have been pushed out, and as foreigners (not just Americans) have moved in, pressure has increased. While some Mexicans have left the neighborhood, others have been able to profit through new businesses and new customers.

So should you reconsider your Airbnb in Roma Norte? Absolutely not. But while you visit, just keep in mind the role you play in an ever more globalized and connected world. And please spend your dollars at the local taqueria and not fucking Gong Cha Condesa.

Towards the end of 2021, I was feeling pretty restless. The first year and a half of the pandemic had been pretty mundane, with my favorite bars and restaurants being closed and social life being subdued. Post-vaccination, late 2021 was a hedonistic pleasure cruise of multiple trips with friends and a return to my favorite San Francisco haunts. But as the year came to a close, I felt that besides going out and enjoying life, I wanted to not just be a consumer of life but an active participant in it as well.

At the beginning of 2022, I set myself the goal of writing biweekly for the whole year. This goal was inspired by several things going on in my life.

For starters, the pandemic itself. For nearly two years, it felt like life was out of my control. Sure, there were a bunch of things that I could control like my work and my social life. But in the grand scheme of things, these felt like insignificant things in the face of lockdowns and the pandemic. During a time when so many things had been denied, I just wanted to feel like I was building something, and writing felt like the way to achieve that feeling. 

At the same time, I became a much more active participant in SF YIMBY, becoming a Lead in that organization. Besides getting to know folks in the political sphere and dedicating my time to volunteering, I wanted to write in order to increase my visibility. By sharing my thoughts on politics and the city, I wanted people to know where I stand on various issues. 

Finally, I was partly inspired by my career as a Product Manager. As a PM, we’re always shipping (new products) and a big part of that is not aiming for perfection, but for delivery. I wanted to continue training myself to ship quickly, even if I felt my articles could use more time and polish. But instead of shipping for work, I wanted to build for myself.

As with all things, getting started was the hardest part. In January, I set myself some fairly unambitious goals: creating my Substack account and writing my “About Me” page. I dragged my feet on those, but after completing those goals, getting really started didn’t feel like such a hurdle. I wrote my first article, a review of my favorite coffee shop in San Francisco, and then worked on a couple more before fully launching the blog to my friends. 

After half a year of writing, I’ve managed to keep a fairly consistent pace of sharing a new article every 2 weeks. I was worried that I would run out of things to talk about, but from conversations and current events, topics would come up fairly regularly. What has consistently been a challenge is time. I write articles a lot faster than when I first got started, but I still find myself taking longer than I’d like. Opinion and reflection articles (like this) might take me only a couple of hours, but articles that require a bit more research may take 4-6 hours (this week’s article was originally going to be about gentrification in Mexico City, expect that one later). 

At the same time, I’ve wondered whether or not my writing is too broad. I’ve talked about tech, food, urbanism, gaming, and a whole host of other topics. I know that to really grow, I should focus on a niche to tailor my content. But at least for now, I’m content with exploring a bunch of different subjects and writing for my friends. 

I’m planning on continuing to write biweekly throughout the rest of this year. My hope is to not only continue delivering content that people find interesting but to improve my writing (both in terms of speed and quality). To my dedicated fans (Hi Mom!), thanks for your support and comments, and I hope you’ve been enjoying the ride ✌️. 

It’s the 13th century in Japan. I’ve just finished fighting some Mongol invaders on Tsushima Island and am making my way to the south, looking for allies to join the fight. The Mongols have captured my uncle, imprisoning him at Castle Kaneda. As my horse gallops across the wind-swept plains, I reflect on my training at *zzz*… *ahem* I reflect on my… *snore* okay I can’t do this…

It’s 2022, and I’m in my apartment in San Francisco. I’m sitting in my living room playing yet another critically acclaimed open-world game, Ghosts of Tsushima, and am wondering, why the hell am I so bored? Why am I just not getting these games? Over the year, I’ve had the opportunity to play a bunch of open-world games that were well reviewed. Individually, there was nothing wrong with any of these games. But moving on to one after another, I started feeling a sense of fatigue, a sense that I was playing the same thing over and over again. With Ghosts of Tsushima, it finally hit a breaking point.

I’ve always considered myself a gamer, which is why I found myself so shocked to reach a state of boredom after playing all of these well-reviewed games. It wasn’t always this way.

Growing up, Grand Theft Auto: Vice City was my first open-world adventure, and it was magical. Back in 2002, most games followed a more traditional linear path. In games like Super Mario Sunshine or Medal of Honor: Allied Assault, players were relegated to structured levels with no opportunities for exploration or discovery. But in Grand Theft Auto the whole city was my playground. I could reach any building, steal any car, do anything. While there was a linear structure to the story, I could immerse myself in side activities and choose the order in which I completed missions.

Rockstar Games (Grand Theft Auto’s publisher) set the bar for open-world experiences, and they continued to deliver hits with their following installments as I explored replicas of Los Angeles and New York City. Red Dead Redemption, published by Rockstar and set in the American Old West, delivered exhilarating moments of freedom in an extremely detailed, well-crafted world.

As PlayStation 2’s turned into 3’s and 4’s, open-world games became much more prevalent. Series like Far Cry, Skyrim, Mercenaries, Assasin’s Creed, and more showed that others could build upon the groundwork Rockstar had set. But with each additional open-world game, the magic from those first few experiences dissipated.

Ubisoft (the publisher of Assasin’s Creed, Far Cry, and Watchdogs) probably helped accelerate the downfall of open-world games, saturating the market with similar gameplay experiences. Ubisoft popularized map exploration through the use of “towers”. Players would climb up some structure to reveal more of the map, which would be filled with enemy outposts to be cleared. This was repeated in most of Ubisoft’s Far Cry series and expanded to other games like Breath of the Wild and Horizon Zero Dawn.

Repeated tropes in open-world game design have been one of my biggest problems, as all these games are starting to feel the same. It now feels like every open-world game has some barren map, a lame crafting mechanic, and a bunch of enemy bases to clear, rinse and repeat. Playing Horizon Zero Dawn and immediately jumping into its sequel, Forbidden West, brought this problem to the forefront. The game has an incredible story, but I felt like I had to slog through the same tasks over and over again. When open-world experiences were rare, this wouldn’t have been a problem, but now they’re a dime-a-dozen.

I think nowadays, the bar for crafting a great open-world game is much higher. I went back to play Grand Theft Auto 3, a truly revolutionary game that started the open-world trend. And I was absolutely bored. The things that were innovative in 2001 are everywhere today. What would it take to get me excited about an open-world game in the 2020s? I think two things are missing in many games: detail and freedom.

The world itself is a character in open-world games, but many mediocre experiences offer worlds that just aren’t very interesting. Fast-Travel (the ability to teleport), has been added to many of these games. I think they are a fantastic quality of life feature, but also show that the world the developers have created isn’t very interesting. I found both Ghosts of Tsushima and Horizon have worlds that, beyond a few cities, were mostly barren. On the other hand, Elden Ring and Red Dead Redemption are densely packed with detail. A player can choose to go in any direction and will find something interesting to do or see.

Freedom is another big component of great games, a bar that has been raised every year since Grand Theft Auto 3 was released. Many open-world games feel like they would actually make more sense as linear experiences, since there doesn’t really seem to be any consequences for poor decision-making as progress is measured by missions completed. Breath of the Wild offers some lessons, as there is only one objective, defeating the final boss Ganon. Players can attempt to do that immediately (but will probably fail). The game subtly nudges players to increase their strength and recruit allies, and can attempt to challenge Ganon at any time. Every player experience will be different based on how they chose to tackle Ganon, offering a very unique experience.

Truly great open-world games are rare these days. It’s been nearly a decade since Grand Theft Auto V came out, and during that time game publishers have been content with playing it safe, leading to an endless stream of similar, mediocre games. Breath of the Wild 2 is in development but has no confirmed release date just yet. I hope I can one day recapture the magic I felt the first time I booted up Vice City on my PS2 twenty years ago. In the meantime, I hope developers can learn from some of the best open-world games out there, instead of saturating the market with the same been-there-done-that experiences. 

San Francisco is an amazingly beautiful city, but it’s not without its problems. One of the most frustrating things is that many of these problems are self-inflicted. The city strangles itself with processes and bureaucracy that make it nearly impossible for anything to progress or change. For example, opening up a restaurant can be prohibitively expensive, as Jason Yu found out when he spent over $200,000 and 16 months battling the city’s red tape trying to open an ice cream shop (he called it quits and now has a debt to pay off). The city is dealing with a massive housing crisis, but by making housing production subject to endless public comment that delays construction and handicaps final designs, San Francisco is nowhere close to building the number of units needed for affordability.

So when I learned about Ludwig von Mises’s 1944 book Bureaucracy, I was curious to see if he could offer a solution to the misery of endless process and inefficiency in local government. I had doubts though. Ludwig von Mises was an Austrian libertarian economist with a hard-on for the free market. To be honest, any time I hear the word “libertarian”, I immediately think of people who think driver’s licenses are oppression. But I was curious to hear his thoughts on the differences between private enterprise and public institutions and wanted to give the book a shot.

And to be honest, the beginning was rough. When I read the word “opprobrious” on the first page, I had to step outside my apartment and go for a walk, unsure if I was ready to subject myself to an SAT Vocabulary Test word salad. Mises spends a majority of the beginning of the book railing against the New Deal, which in my opinion, wasn’t a bad deal. But as I got further along, I finally got to the meat of the book.

The profit motive is precisely the factor that forces the businessman to provide in the most efficient way those commodities the consumer want to use

Mises’s main thesis is that private enterprise is more efficient than public services because of the presence of the profit motive. Increasing revenue while reducing costs provides businesses a clear metric to measure success, those that fail to do so will go out of business. Mises argues that public services have no such measures and that trying to apply traditional tools of management from the private sector to the public will fail. When it comes to a fire station or the FBI, how would you measure efficiency?

A private enterprise is doomed if its operation brings losses only and no way can be ound to remedy this situation…. It is different with a public enterprise. Here the appearance of the deficit is not considered proof of failure.

While Mises prefers the structure of the private enterprise, he argues that the bureaucratic methods of the public sphere are actually needed. A business owner can give subordinates a free hand to operate because there are clear signals from the market whether actions were successful, encouraging innovative solutions to increase profit. But without the clear signal of the market, the public sector can’t afford this freedom. Instead, they rely on centralizing administration and restricting the freedom of department managers in order to prevent excesses and the abuse of power.

So what is the solution to government inefficiency and bureaucracy? Mises offers no suggestions. In fact, I don’t think he even cares. He’s a libertarian economist, the perfect world for him is one where businesses can be mostly free of government intervention. The biggest thing he stresses in his book is explaining why government shouldn’t meddle in the affairs of private business: because it doesn’t have the tools to measure efficiency and success easily.

Reading Bureaucracy, I think Mises is right about his point on why business is generally more efficient than government but was disappointed he didn’t offer any solutions. I think solutions are out there, but implementing them is easier said than done. To generalize his point, the reason why private enterprise is more efficient is because there is a clear and transparent metric (profit). Failing to hit that metric will cause the business to fail. Fear of avoiding that failure (and greed in growing the business) is what keeps people accountable. This becomes very clear when comparing small startups and businesses to larger enterprises. Employees at small businesses feel much more ownership and pressure to ensure the company is profitable. Employees at larger companies generally do not feel that same pressure, since their impact is smaller and the company can feel too big to fail.

When thinking about how the public sector could be more efficient, I think two things are needed: metrics and accountability. These are two pieces that are inherent in the profit motive that drives companies, but missing in the way government operates.

Let’s start off with metrics. I was surprised to learn that San Francisco actually does keep track of metrics on its Performance Scorecards page. The city tracks performance across different vectors like Transportation, Public Safety, Environment, and more. But does the city keep track of the right metrics? I’m not so sure. With pages and pages of scorecards, it seems like the city does keep track of a lot, but I’m curious what the highest priority metric is. In private enterprise, it’s easy: profit. In the public sector, it’s a little trickier. What would be the right goals for San Francisco (or any city)? How could we keep score to know that our city is moving in the right direction?

But it’s not enough to just measure performance, people need to be held accountable for these metrics. In private enterprise, it can be clear when decisions were unprofitable, which can be used as learning lessons for future decisions or can lead to consequences for poor performers. In the public sector, accountability is a little less clear. The most direct way to hold those in office accountable is through elections. But the public generally doesn’t have the access (or time) to know which decisions led to which outcomes, and elections are generally driven by strong narratives, not by performance data. Appointed government officials are even less accountable, in positions where relationships can matter more than outcomes.

In my ideal world, the city of San Francisco would publicize a quarterly review to see the direction city metrics (citizen happiness, transportation efficiency, etc.) have moved. The biggest blocker to this world isn’t the difficulty in selecting and measuring the right metrics, it’s having the political willpower to enforce accountability on public officials. But if you were a public official, would you want to be held accountable? How did you feel being graded in college or before a performance review at work? No one really likes being held accountable, and if you could avoid it you probably would. But that, along with tracking the right metrics is the piece I believe is missing to unlocking a more efficient public sector.

Ludwig von Mises correctly identifies that the profit motive is what makes private enterprises more efficient. It’s something that is much easier to calculate and understand. But he lacks the interest in thinking about how lessons regarding the advantages of the profit motive can be applied to the public sector. I hope we can one day build political structures that reward innovation and give citizens a clear picture of what direction their city and country are moving. But in the meantime, identifying where clear metrics and accountability are missing is a start.

One Thursday night, a friend and I made our way through Lower Nob Hill to check out Bottle Club Pub, the latest in a series of new bars I had set out to explore. It had been a while since I’d gone out in the neighborhood and as we were making our way downhill, I started wondering why it had been so long. Lower Nob Hill is filled with a bunch of great restaurants and bars, and it’s close enough to home to be easily accessible. But as we made our way, my friend commented that something about the neighborhood felt off, and I couldn’t help but feel the same way. Unlike other neighborhoods I venture out to, there was just something uncanny about Lower Nob Hill. And what annoyed me was that I couldn’t put my finger on what it was.

Lower Nob Hill is in fact, a beautiful neighborhood. Walking down Jones and passing Sutter, we ambled by ornate buildings along beautiful tree-lined sidewalks. What was off about that? My first thought was maybe it was the hill, since it’s an extremely steep neighborhood. But San Francisco’s hills have never bothered me, and I didn’t see why it would be the case here. Could it be perhaps that, knowing I’m close to the notoriously seedy Tenderloin neighborhood, I’m already on edge? Considering the fact that the Tenderloin is one of my premier destinations for excellent food and drinks, it seemed pretty unlikely.

As we were about to cross the street, we were met with a rush of traffic. Surrounded by cars and in the middle of empty sidewalks, the problem finally dawned on me. The reason the neighborhood feels so uncomfortable is because it’s a completely hostile place to be a pedestrian. With small sidewalks and cars going faster than you would expect in the middle of downtown, the space feels like it’s designed more for drivers in mind.

And as it turns out, data confirms how unsafe the neighborhood is for pedestrians. Several studies have found that downtown neighborhoods like Lower Nob Hill, the Tenderloin, SoMa, and the Financial District are more likely to see pedestrian accidents. Vision Zero SF, created by the city with the goal of reducing traffic deaths to zero, has mapped out the most dangerous streets in San Francisco, most of which are concentrated downtown.

Why are so many accidents concentrated here versus other neighborhoods? A major reason is the fact that these neighborhoods are San Francisco’s densest, so it’s much more likely for a vehicle to hit a pedestrian considering the amount of foot traffic. However, when it comes to which intersections have the most injuries per crossing, these neighborhoods barely register. Intersections in outer neighborhoods like Corona Heights, Candlestick Point, and Diamond Heights, are much riskier for pedestrians.

But downtown still isn’t great for pedestrians considering the number of accidents, and improving safety should be a priority. How can we reduce pedestrian injuries? Well, the number one factor in traffic injuries is driver speed. And the design of downtown streets has two major flaws that make speeding much more likely.

One is the fact that there are many one-way streets going through the neighborhood. One-way streets facilitate traffic flow since they eliminate tough left turns, reducing congestion. But the effect of this is cars moving much faster, meaning a higher likelihood of pedestrian injury. Is this worth letting traffic move more quickly? From my own experience riding Ubers downtown, traffic actually doesn’t always move faster. I’ve been stuck in gridlock countless times, even with all the one-way streets. One civil engineer is even questioning the congestion benefits of one-way streets, specifically when it comes to shorter trips.

Another reason is the fact that the streets themselves are so wide. Wide streets encourage speeding and increase the risk of pedestrian injuries. From my experience as a driver, being on a wide street surrounded by traffic on both sides gives me the impression of being on a freeway. Compare that to driving on a narrow street, which feels much more claustrophobic. I tend to naturally slow down because of more limited visibility and feeling pressed in by pedestrians and businesses on both sides of my vehicle. Combining one-way streets with width, there is less of a need to moderate speed since drivers don’t need to worry about oncoming traffic.

Sutter Street in Lower Nob Hill is a wide one-way street and is definitely not a place I feel very comfortable walking around in. Sutter Street at Jones is a 5-lane street, with 1 bus-only lane, 2 driving lanes, and 2 parking/drop-off lanes bordered by sidewalks. It’s estimated to move 38,000 people per hour. Standing on a corner really gives the impression of being next to a freeway with the number of cars blazing by. Sitting in the restaurant parklet at Matador on Sutter, I’ve felt the air from passing cars whoosh by, leading to an uneasy dining experience imagining myself splattered like the bowl of refried beans I’m eating.

So what would a safer Sutter Street look like? Unfortunately, it’s not like we can push the buildings closer together to narrow the street and offer a cozier experience for pedestrians and moderate vehicle speed. But there are other changes that can be made to create a safer setting for people on foot.

One option would be converting the street back into a two-way street to naturally slow down vehicle traffic. These streets weren’t always one-way streets, with most of them being converted in the late 1940s. Living in Nob Hill, the two-way streets north of California Street really do seem to regulate traffic, as I rarely see cars speeding by like they do in Lower Nob Hill.

But my personal preference for modifying the street would be a little more involved. Expanding the sidewalk and removing a lane of traffic would help pedestrians feel safer while at the same time nudging cars to drive more slowly. Removing a lane of traffic might feel like a big deal, but it only reduces the number of people per hour moved to 36,500 (a 4% decrease). While we’re at it, let’s remove a parking lane to expand the sidewalk and have more space for outdoor dining and seating. Instead of feeling like a freeway, Sutter Street could be changed to be a place pedestrians feel much more comfortable eating, shopping, and hanging out.

This might seem like a totally outlandish idea, but the city actually began work on a similar project this year. The Safer Taylor Street project is reducing the number of traffic lanes as well as widening sidewalks and enhancing the streetscape, all with the goal of reducing driver speed and improving pedestrian safety. I would love to see other projects like this initiated across downtown for a more vibrant and pedestrian-friendly experience.

Unfortunately, these changes aren’t happening fast enough. Vision Zero’s goal is zero pedestrian deaths, but we’re already at 15 this year as of writing. With an incredibly bureaucratic process and an easy way for anyone to delay a project, Vision Zero isn’t aggressive enough for the change that needs to happen. And sadly, San Francisco voters rejected Proposition A, which would have allotted $400 million for transit improvements and street safety.

Fortunately, organizations like WalkSF and the San Francisco Bicycle Coalition are putting pressure on the city to improve pedestrian and biker safety. Many of us in SF YIMBY are passionate about building better and safer experiences for pedestrians. But it will take more people paying attention and noticing the uncanny experiences they have walking around car-centric neighborhoods.

So next time you’re taking a stroll in Lower Nob Hill (or wherever you are), pay attention to that experience and compare it to the streets you consider comfortable and pleasant. You might be surprised to realize that the gap between your ideal street and the one you’re on isn’t as big as you think.

While on the hunt for more delicious food, I visited Gallardo’s Mexican Restaurant with some friends a few weeks ago. I was pretty excited since at this point I had exhausted most of my list of amazing Mexican restaurants in San Francisco and was excited to add one more. However, as I eyed the menu, my heart started to sink. You see, I have a black belt in sniffing out inauthentic Mexican food, and the alarm bells were ringing. Burritos? Chimichangas? Hamburgers? As someone who prides themself on giving fantastic food recommendations, I was worried that the end had come for me. Well, if this is the end, I might as well enjoy it. I opted with Bistec a la Mexicana, while my friends ordered some tacos.

As the dishes came out, my fears were confirmed. My plate looked like someone dumped meat, beans, and cheese in a washing machine and served them on a dish. The tacos my friends ordered were burrito-sized, totally unlike the small street tacos I was used to. So imagine my surprise as I took the first bite and found myself… enjoying the food? What the hell? This is imposter Mexican-American food, not the real thing! But somehow, I felt like I was eating something special, something that I hadn’t had for a very long time.

Growing up, I was used to eating real Mexican food. When I was younger, I spent a lot of time visiting my family in Ciudad Satelite outside of Mexico City, where besides incredible homecooked family dinners we would go out and eat at restaurants like Los Arcos or Las Flautas. I remember hanging out with my cousins at the local tianguis, shopping for some pirated PS2 games and grabbing al pastor tacos and agua de jamaica when our stomachs grumbled. In Los Angeles, my mom would consistently cook up fantastic dishes like albondigas, flautas, tacos de salpicon, and more. Having had such a variety of Mexican food growing up, my palette was trained in spotting any imposters.

But growing up in Los Angeles, Mexican-American food was a big part of my diet too. When we weren’t eating in, my family would like to go out, with one of our favorite spots being Hacienda Del Rey. The restaurant had been in the neighborhood since the 70s, run by Mexican-Americans but catering to the mostly white crowd of west Los Angeles where I grew up. So naturally, the food was completely inauthentic. You’d chow down on fajitas and salty margaritas in a dimly lit room with antique lights and an aquarium for some reason.

Although the food was fake, it was a distinctly Angeleno experience, one that is a testament to the long and tumultuous history Mexicans and Mexican-Americans have had in the city. Many Mexican restaurant owners in the 1900s were forced to rebrand their food as “Spanish” in order to circumvent racial biases and a white population uncomfortable with the existing Mexican population (hence why it’s Spanish Rice and not arroz a la Mexicana). As generations of Mexicans immigrated to Southern California after World War II, business owners began integrating their parent’s cuisine with their children’s future taste buds, resulting in restaurants like George’s Burger Stand, where you can get a quesadilla along with your burger.

Fast forward to my time in San Francisco, and my diet has consisted of mostly trying to find real Mexican food. Like any millennial, I am driven by the constant search for authentic experiences, meaning you won’t find me in some Mexican place serving burgers. That is until I had a bite at Gallardo’s.

So where did that enjoyment come from? Sure I definitely got a hit of nostalgia, remembering the greasy Mexican-American food I had growing up. But there was something more. Compared to Los Angeles, San Francisco’s Mexican population is tiny, consisting of only 15% of the population compared to LA’s 48%. Weirdly enough eating Gallardo’s reminded me of that. Los Angeles’s massive Mexican population means you’ll find a plethora of options, from 50-year-old Mexican-American culinary institutions to more recent and authentic arrivals.

“Real” Mexican food will always be my preference and there is nothing that can compare to what I have had in Ciudad Satelite and Mexico City. But eating at Gallardo’s reminded me that I value my Angeleno Mexican-American roots just as much as my chilango heritage. A greasy bean and cheese smothered fajita plate was the perfect reminder.

For those of you that know me, you’ve probably heard me ramble about my obsession with Revel mopeds. Whether it’s discussing how I arrived at the party to debating the economic advantages of renting a moped over taking an Uber, I can always find a way to force mopeds into the conversation. After writing this article, maybe I can spare you from hijacking future discussions. But for those of you living in cities without these glorious means of transportation you might be asking; what are rentable electric mopeds? Boy am I glad you asked.

In San Francisco, there are many ways to get around the city, but none are as fast, cheap, or fun as renting a moped. My love for these mopeds started back in 2018. At the time, I’d started noticing people zipping around on electric mopeds all emblazoned with a lightning bolt on the storage compartment. While getting around the city on Uber was comfortable, it sure as hell wasn’t cheap, and I was looking for alternatives. I soon learned that the scooters were a part of the newest micro-mobility startup, Scoot (Revel wasn’t available yet). And you could easily rent those bad boys from an app. 

Before being able to ride the mopeds, I first needed to watch some instructional videos and pass an exam on the app. Considering the fact that I would be operating a motor vehicle in city streets, I was a little shocked that I could easily complete the whole course during my afternoon bio break, but less time before being able to ride was fine by me. After finishing the course it was time to find a ride.

I found a moped near my apartment and unlocked it using the app, ready to ascend to scooter enlightenment. I hopped on, grabbed a helmet from the back, unpropped the kickstand and… immediately tipped the moped over. Damn these things are heavier than they look. After flipping the moped back up and questioning my strength, I finally regained my balance and was ready to ride. 

I twisted the throttle and made my way down Mason Street, heading downhill towards North Beach. While at first it was difficult getting used to the weight I channeled my bike riding skills and felt more at ease as I zipped by traffic, with the speed helping the moped feel lighter. There was something exhilarating about feeling the wind stream by and the sun on my face. I soon reached my destination, Washington Square Park, where I parked and made my way to grab some coffee and reflect on my brand new favorite way to get around.

Since then, riding mopeds has been my primary mode of transportation. For starters, it’s way cheaper than an Uber. While on average my Uber/Lyft rides might come to about $16, my average moped ride is about $8. While it’s more expensive than public transportation, it’s much faster, allowing me to reach most parts of the city in 15-20 minutes. And it’s way more fun. There’s something about zig-zagging through traffic that just feels liberating. 

It’s not perfect though. When Karl the Fog rolls in, being outside on a scooter is not a fun place to be. On cold winter nights, I’d much rather be in a car or Uber than freezing my butt off on a moped. Buying motorcycle gloves helped me resist the cold a bit, but while riding I couldn’t help but imagine how much more comfortable I’d be in the backseat of a Prius. And then there are the accident risks. 

My worst accident happened on a winter evening after a rainy day. I was making my way back from El Metate after having feasted on a carne asada taco combo plate. I was making my way up California Street when I had the genius idea of riding on the cable car tracks. On a normal day they’re already slick, but after some rain they’re more slippery than Mario Kart banana peels. So naturally, I lost control of my moped and ate asphalt. Fortunately I didn’t hurt myself too badly, but I was pretty bruised up and my leg was involuntarily trembling from the impact. I consider myself lucky though, as unfortunately some riders have suffered fatal accidents. 

Still, this was not enough to deter me from making mopeds my primary form of transportation. Which is why I was devastated when Covid-19 hit, and Scoot removed all their mopeds from San Francisco. After being acquired by Bird, it looked like mopeds wouldn't return to the city. But luckily, while Scoot disappeared from the streets of San Francisco, Revel scooters came and took their place. Since Revel came along, I’ve taken 279 rides for a total of 710 miles (and counting). 

The rentable, electric moped has made my life in San Francisco so much more liberating. While the city is walkable, the hills and the so-so public transportation leave a lot to be desired. Being able to rent and ride mopeds has made much more of the city accessible, allowing me to explore beyond the slopes of Russian Hill. 

If you find yourself looking for a mode of transportation that is fast, cheap, and hella fun, look no further than the rentable, electric moped. And while you’re at it, be sure to use my referral code. 

Over the weekend, my friends and I made a stop at Kowloon Tong Dessert Cafe in the Richmond District. Stepping inside, you’ll find yourself in a cozy cafe serving a variety of Hong Kong-style snacks. It feels very “locals-only”, and I was curious how my friend even found it in the first place. A few months earlier, he had been on the hunt for some late-night dessert, but outside of sit-down restaurants and bars, most cafes and dessert spots were closed. He eventually discovered Kowloon Tong, which became part of his late-night snacking routine. My friend mentioned that he’ll run into a lot of high schoolers just hanging out there because it’s one of the few places open late that isn’t a bar. 

One of my favorite things about living in a city like San Francisco are spaces like these. The entire city feels like an extension of my living room. Instead of investing in an espresso machine, I can hang out at a neighborhood coffee shop, do some work, and read a book. These spaces make the city a fun place to live, and they play a very important role in community life. 

In his book, The Great Good Place, urban sociologist Ray Oldenburg first coined the term “third place.” He describes three places, the first place being home and the second being the workplace. Third places are spaces where you can relax, meet new friends, and run into acquaintances; these are spaces like coffee shops, churches, parks, libraries, and more. They are places where you can do work, share ideas, and build friendships. 

Probably one of the most influential third places is the Viennese coffee house. During the late 19th and early 20th centuries leading intellectuals, artists, and writers would spend time at these coffee houses to meet, write, and snack on some strudels. Here you might run into neurologists like Sigmund Freud, architects like Adolf Loos, and revolutionaries like Leon Trotsky. In the 18th century outside of Austria, coffee shops were centers for discussing Enlightenment ideals, helping spark the revolutions that would sweep France and the United States. 

Today in San Francisco, you may instead find an investor talking to startup founders at Philz Coffee. You’ll still get to hear political discussions though, perhaps at a place like Manny’s which operates as both a community space and restaurant.  Families can get together to play card games and Mahjong in Portsmouth Square. And of course, friends can always get together for a drink and board games at a place like The Game Parlour.

So it can be a bummer then when late at night there are limited third places to choose from. Sure there are bars, but sometimes you want a more relaxing space outside of the home. In college, it was nice having access to common rooms and study halls, where you could read and work with people late into the evening. While coffee shops close early in San Francisco, you’ll find that cafes are still crowded in the evenings in cities like Seoul or Mexico City. 

But I can see why places like these close early in the United States. In his book Bowling Alone, political scientist Robert Putnam describes the decline of traditional third places as people spend more leisure time in solitude online. There might not be enough demand for these spaces as people socialize on the web. And during the lockdowns, our entire lives were lived digitally. Lower demand in San Francisco may also be a function of lower density compared to larger cities like New York that still see sufficient foot traffic in the evenings.

But as Covid-19 wanes, I have hope for the resurgence of third places beyond bars and sit-down restaurants. While remote work has changed our working lives, in San Francisco 61% of workers would still like some facetime. Parks are crowded again and Manny’s event calendar is filled with in-person events. 

One day, I hope to see more relaxed late-night third places in San Francisco. More casual spaces where people can get together in person would do wonders to mend some of the toxicity we saw online during the pandemic. For now though, I know that if I need a late-night place to chill, I can always grab a bowl of sesame and almond paste at Kowloon Tong Dessert Cafe.