Turning onto Stockton Street is like taking a gigantic leap into another country - into the past. Neighborhood residents jockey for position along the narrow sidewalks in front of the busy markets. Fresh fruit, vegetables and a varied selection of seafood and poultry replace the dizzying surplus of tacky souvenirs. Live fish dance in plastic bins for interested patrons - perhaps auditioning for a spot on the dinner table. Shoppers often examine the day's catch intensely as if the confused sea creature holds the mysteries of the universe.
People carefully squeeze, pick, poke and prod everything before buying.
The snail-like pace of the crowds cause numerous pedestrian jams. Delivery trucks of all sizes also contribute nicely to the clutter and confusion. Fortune-cookie wisdom is appropriate along Stockton, where patience is definitely a virtue you need to possess. As I continue my journey north, a crate of live chickens crosses my path. One of the bewildered birds has his head wedged through a hole and appears fearful of his destination.