This natural-lit studio with immaculate jet bath was the perfect sanctuary of both work and rest for the bookends of an extended Thanksgiving break in San Francisco.
Even if I could crash if I wanted to at the home of my sister, her husband, their 2-month-old baby, and a barely adjusting pet dog, plus my mother (!!), the consensus among the whole family was that I should give them all - and myself! - a break by staying at a rental at least during the weekdays leading up to the holiday weekend.
Aware that I am pursuing a Master's degree while holding down a full-time job, my family did what they had never done before - something I had never let them do before: figure every single thing out for me.
Once they booked the rental, they sent me all the listing and I was still too busy to look at any of the details, and anyway, I trusted their discretion. What did shine through, however, was Jon's clear and kind communication of how to get in, what to expect, and so on.
He was also so patient with me when I wrote back to his request to know when I expected to arrive. I was supposed to arrive on Sunday afternoon - something plainly stated in the listing and all communications - but told him I'd get there late Saturday night. He clarified my error and was even trying to accommodate a late night bag drop-off on Saturday night when I realized that I was meant to stay at my sister's upon arrival to the Bay on that night.
On Sunday, I texted Jon for instructions to access the unit. Again, he was super patient and just gave me the information without so much as mentioning that, once again, it was all in the listing and our communications.
I had a good feeling the moment I walked up to the building by a winding path through the small streets of unique houses and dazzling vistas of Diamond Heights. I went in through the garage as instructed and easily found a clean, mostly-empty fridge stocked with snacks and La Croix in the top shelf. Just beyond there was the door.
Inside, I found a cavernous den with a clean king bed that faced off with a green lawn with a brick red picket fence. Most exciting was a wraparound desk space with built-in shelves overhead. One of the shelves contained a coloring book of Korea and, being of Korean ethnicity, I felt even more pleased. Forgetting myself, I texted Jon again with my enthusiasm, and he indulged the volley.
The bathroom was clean and its towels felt not only recently cleaned but also very dry. Shower gel, shampoo, and conditioner bottles were full, and there was even a bottle of bubble bath. As for the bathtub itself, it was clean and devoid of that invisible but tangible scum that one can find on the sides of tubs everywhere from people's homes to five star hotels.
After three days here, I realized it was not enough and decided to come back for a few days after Thanksgiving and before my departure back to New York City. Jon expressed his appreciation with a little discount off the fees at peak season.
Finally, this place was very peaceful. Upon reading the less savory reviews here about noise overhead, I was bracing myself for some amount of irritation. But it never came. At first, I wondered if this was because the upstairs unit was empty while I was renting. But the second trip confirmed that, though I heard a sporadic voice, laugh, or clunk on the floor, there is not really an issue.
It's true that I'm coming from New York City, where I live in a shabby apartment within a shabby building in a good, child-catering neighborhood, where I have grown accustomed to the sounds of people raising kids and pets, talking, copulating, cooking, fighting partying, and so on, whether in my own building or all up and down the street.
However, this isn't a relativity thing - Jon's place was an oasis in absolute terms, offering space and solitude in a neighborhood that you can't usually access unless you're a multimillionaire or you know someone who's been established there for decades. Up and down the hills were a used bookstore, a local hardware shop, restaurants with character, cafes, and charming, flowering streets where people will put out a whole box of ripe persimmons straight off a tree to share (and not because they've gone bad).
When I left, I treated the place like my own home and couldn't help folding my used towels and straightening out the slept-in bed. If this review has run on too long, it's because (1) I run long and (2) I wanted to write something that conveys the quality and value of this place in juxtaposition with the few underwhelming reviews on here.
Thank you for everything, Jon!