A few stops on

Over at the Presidio yesterday, a guy asked us where we were staying. When we said, "Oakland," he said, "Whoa, it's the fifth most violent city in the US." And, admittedly, when we arrived here we were shown which streets belonged to gangs. When I said, "West Oakland", he said, "That's worse".

But I had it wrong. We're more like northern Oakland, up the top end of Piedmont Ave, where the cafes are frequented by students availing themselves of the free Wi-Fi.

We loved the Presidio - sweeping views up and down the coast (over the Golden Gate, too, of course), 'historic' (remnant?) forests on some of the slopes, sea birds hovering in the thermals, city workers jogging in their lunchtime... We were intrigued to find that you can rent there. It'd be a beautiful place to live.

On the way out on the shuttle, I noticed streets named after little-known (outside the US) early 19th century presidents - Pierce, Franklin, Fillmore. I noted that the 'golden gate' itself was named by Fremont, who later became the first Republican presidential candidate, in 1856, and a Union general in the western theatre during the Civil War. All this kind of located the Presidio for me in history. Lincoln Boulevard up there then has a certain poignancy. Lincoln never made it this far west, and I remembered how I had read that he and his wife, Mary, were planning a grand tour when he left the presidency. But of course he was assassinated not long into his second term.

Back in the city itself I realised that I am growing to love the linguistic richness here - the lilt of the African-American banter of the guys picking up a load for UPS, the guys digging up the street speaking Spanish, the ads on the BART which are not even translated into English. Hey, the Presidio was founded by the Spanish in 1776.

When we got back on the BART to come back to this side of the bay, there were no seats on the train. One woman had her parcels on the only available seat. Kate looked at it, and the woman flared up, "Are you gonna say, 'EXCUSE ME'?" I was about to stop Kate - after all why should she apologise to someone taking up a seat for her parcels. But Kate said excuse me, and the woman said, "That's alright."

She had the words 'bitch' and 'nigga' tattooed on one of her forearms, and I imagined that they may have said, in full, "I'm not your bitch; I'm not your nigga", though I couldn't see the part of her forearm which was resting on her legs.

Emerging from bay tunnel, a friend of the woman's came over. Saying "excuse me", she reached across Kate and said "You getting off?" tapping the shoulder of her friend who was moving around to the music in her earphones. She said nothing, but when the train stopped she got off with her parcels - at West Oakland.