The Great Charleston/San Francisco Smackdown -- which city will be left standing?

In foodie terms, you could say that she crab soup has bested sourdough bread. Or put another way, horse-drawn carriage rides just gave cable cars a kick in their spare parts.

In breaking tourism news, Charleston, South Carolina, has unseated San Francisco as the favorite U.S. destination of Conde Nast Traveler magazine readers. This is big news, because San Fran won Conde Nast Traveler's annual reader survey for the past 18 years--until now.

It was a close call. Charleston received 84.7 points, compared to San Francisco's 83.7 points.

I love both cities immensely. I lived in Charleston in the mid 80s and return as often as possible, though San Francisco has been my chosen home since 1987. If it's a beautiful peninsular city with a rich history you crave, you won't go wrong with either one.

Not that anyone asked, but here's how I would rate Charleston and San Francisco in a smackdown.

The Piggly Wiggly cooler bag I bought at Folly Beach

Piggly Wigglys. Sad to say, there are no Piggly Wiggly grocery stores in San Francisco, though Charleston and the surrounding areas are crawling with them. Our grocery stores aren't terribly exciting. We have Safeway (yawn), Whole Foods ($$), and Trader Joe's (love them but they aren't very convenient to my home). Winner: Charleston.

Earthquakes. San Francisco is synonymous with shakers, though Charleston is no stranger to them, either. In 1886, a quake estimated between 6.6 and 7.3 on the Richter scale ripped through Charleston. It's considered one of the U.S.'s most powerful, damaging temblors. The 1906 San Francisco earthquake puts it to shame, however, at about a 7.9 Richter scale reading. Winner: San Francisco.


Swimming in the ocean. Have you ever ventured into the Pacific Ocean around San Francisco? And if you have, were your feet still attached to your legs when you emerged? Let me put it this way: the Pacific Ocean around SF is dramatic and gorgeous. But the temperature rarely rises above 60 degrees. Charleston, by comparison, has lovely beaches (the far western end of Folly Beach is my favorite) where the water rises into the 80s during summer. Winner: Charleston.


Quirky transportation. Charleston has its horse-drawn tourist carriages, city buses equipped with iPads, cars, and not too much else. San Francisco has two subway systems, cable cars, vintage trolley cars from around the world, Zip cars, and GPS-guided 'dune' buggies for tourists. Winner: San Francisco. 


Food and drink. Charleston has the aforementioned she crab soup (which is at its best at 82 Queen restaurant), along with lots of other Lowcountry delicacies served in its many fine restaurants. San Francisco, jam-packed with amazing restaurants, is no slouch in this category, either. I'd venture to say SF has a broader diversity of cuisine, however. Winner: San Francisco, by a nose (or a mouth).


Difference and tolerance. San Francisco and the South are both famous for their larger-than-life characters, politely known as eccentrics. I certainly met some delightfully kooky people during my Charleston years, including my landlady (more on her later). And in recent years, Charleston--once a very insular society--has come a long way toward acceptance of gays, outsiders, or anyone else who is 'different.' But San Francisco, it's not. Here, I can't go to my neighborhood cafe without running into the cross-dressing homeless guy who wears chunky necklaces and big floppy hats. When I go to the Castro, I sometimes see the locally famous naked guys, walking around casually, as if they're heading to Walgreen's to pick up a prescription. If I'm in Dolores Park, I'm likely to be offered pot brownies from one vendor and THC-free cookies from another. Though I don't know any of these people personally, they're among the reasons why I love San Francisco, unquestionably one of the most tolerant cities on the planet. Winner: San Francisco.


Weather. I complain frequently about San Francisco's foggy climate. Here, it's like early March nearly all year long. To live in San Francisco is to live without summer, and summer is my favorite season. But you also get to skip brutally cold winters. And, oh child, you want to feel oppressive humidity? Head down to Charleston anytime after about May 20th, all the way through late September. They get a little too much summer for my taste. Winner: San Francisco. 


Cost of living. Both cities are expensive, but San Francisco is crazy expensive, New York City expensive. Winner: Charleston.

But enough about me. I want to hear from you. Have you been to both San Francisco and Charleston? And if so, which one do you prefer and why?

Has a hurricane ever hit the West Coast? (The answer may surprise you)

Last week, the East Coast endured both a 5.8 earthquake (and its aftershocks) and Hurricane Irene. This week, the locusts are scheduled to descend.

I'm grateful Irene wasn't quite as bad as many had feared. But the occurrence of both events last week left me wondering: Has the quake-prone West Coast ever been hit with a hurricane or a similar storm of its magnitude?

After some Googling, I discovered the answer is: kinda sorta. There was one known tropical storm to hit California in 1939 with 50 mph winds, according to a USA Today article, but that's the closest we've ever come. Remnants of hurricanes and tropical storms formed off the coast of Mexico or elsewhere have sometimes worked their up to the U.S. West Coast. But a direct hit from the likes of Hurricane Irene just doesn't happen here.

Hurricanes do form in the Northwest Pacific Basin. And like hurricanes born in the Atlantic, they move in a west/northwest direction. In the case of the Northwest Pacific, that direction would take a hurricane away from the West Coast, whereas in the Atlantic, a north-by-northwest direction aims hurricanes directly toward land.

The other reason we don't get hurricanes here is that the Pacific Ocean along the U.S. West Coast is way too cold to fuel a big funnel. You know how you get a headache if you drink a Slurpee too fast? Imagine that happening to your entire body when you get into the Pacific Ocean here, even during the height of summer. When I was in Charleston in late June, the Atlantic Ocean temperature at Folly Beach was 85 degrees. According to today's San Francisco Chronicle, the ocean temperature here is 57 degrees today.

The SF skyline is completely invisible this morning from our deck

Because the Pacific is so chilly, there's a virtually permanent fog bank just offshore. When the inland valleys heat up, it often pulls that 'marine layer' into San Francisco. And so, I wake up on a late August morning like today, stare out our window at the fog (see the picture), turn up the heat (yes, I turn the heat on in August), and confront my mixed emotions about that damn marine layer. I despise it because it robs San Franciscans of a true summer, year after year. I miss the simple pleasures of a summer that East Coasters take for granted: swimming in the ocean, dining al fresco at night, to name a few.

But this morning, after Irene has come and gone, I begrudgingly appreciate the fog. In the land of major earthquakes and huge summer wildfires, the fog is a reminder of why we don't have to worry about hurricanes, too.