In San Francisco’s vibrant Japantown district, buses and bikes whiz by, teens congregate and people text as fast as they walk. But inside the Kabuki Hot Springs, the city vanishes. The only sounds in the dimly lit, Japanese-style communal baths are the gentle splashing of water and occasional strains of soothing music.
Conquer the Art of Really Getting Away
Ahoy, Food Lovers!
San Francisco Magazine
Food for Life
Where bubbly sparkles all the time
Salute the Sun
Feed Your Body Well
OZZY IS GIVING ME ATTITUDE—bumping against my pack, nosing ahead, blowing his semisweet-fermented breath in my face. I nudge him on the chest to keep him behind me as I inch down the steep sandstone, but he clearly has personal-space issues. I chose Ozzy . . .
Your shop was smaller than our kitchen but better stocked, the shelves on both sides of its entrance packed to the ceiling with shrimp chips and kimchi, dried cuttlefish, ramen noodles, and vacuum-sealed chicken drumsticks. It had no name, the shop—it was . . .
We’d been in the air about five minutes when our pilot, Cameron, pointed out the rainbow. It could be viewed, he said, from the right side of the helicopter — my side. I turned my head, knowing just what to expect. Since arriving on Maui a week before . . .
Growing up, I was The One Who Could Not Sing. My older sister and brother, on the other hand, were routinely cast in musicals and chosen for high school Madrigals (the “Glee”-like choir reserved for the cream of the teen vocal crop). At Christmas, my . . .
I tell you: one must have chaos in one, to give birth to a dancing star. I tell you: you still have chaos in you.” –Nietzsche