by Paul Millward
It's the hills that do it . . . those rolling, undulating hills falling towards the bay or sweeping steeply upwards, cross-town, stretching up to the skies, before falling down again like a rollercoaster as the cable car falls towards another descent. Everywhere views of delight open and close continuously as you pass each block, with tantalizing glimpses of the blue bay or an array of gorgeous colored Victorian houses.
I intuitively knew I had come to a very special place with my very first view of San Francisco as I drove towards it on the freeway late at night. It was lit u...
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