There she was, just within reach, the famous punk rocker poet, the shamaness beaming raw mystic power, the one, and only Patti Smith. There she was, right on Haight Street hovering in the San Francisco sunshine her presence breaking through the fog, still amongst the ragged street kids all refusing

North Beach has a certain magic to it. The neon lights and the strip show barkers blend with the San Francisco night and the smell of garlic, creating something old school and current, ancient and timely.