There is something surprisingly refreshing about playing tourist in your own city. You think you know it. You think you have seen the highlights. And then someone who has lived its stories for decades takes you by the hand and shows you a completely different layer.

That is exactly what happened to me last week.

I had the joy of exploring San Francisco with a long time local with deep Japanese American roots, and while it did not completely change how I see the city, it added a richness and depth that I had not experienced before. What felt familiar became more meaningful, filled with connections I had not fully noticed.

One of the highlights was visiting the Legion of Honor for the first time.

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I grew up with hydrangeas as something fragile.

Back in Belgium, my mother worried about them constantly. Were they surviving the winter. Was the soil too acidic. Would they bloom pink or blue this year. Hydrangeas were not just flowers, they were a responsibility. Their color felt like feedback, a visible response to how well they were being cared for. Too much acidity and they shifted. Too little attention and they suffered. They required watching, adjusting, and a certain quiet vigilance.

To me, hydrangeas were delicate creatures that needed protection.

Then I lived in Japan and married into an entirely different relationship with the same plant.

There, my husband cursed them.

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