The diversity of San Francisco hit me this morning.
I had coffee in my regular coffee shop (Greco) which is inside the Northern edge of Chinatown, is an Italian café owned by a Lebanese-American chemist, with two Latino-American employees behind the counter. Carlos (from Gautamala) and Jorge (from El Salvador) were singing the words of the song that must play regularly on the café sound system: popular Israeli tunes.
They could sing most of the Hebrew lyrics. I didn’t ask if they knew what language it is.
While having my cappuccino, I learned from a Korean-Japanese-Hawaiian lesbian that a friend of hers, who travels a great deal, had her living will tattooed on her stomach region to make sure she doesn’t get a life extension procedure done in some out-of-the-way emergency room when she is unconscious. It’s a great idea.