For locals, crossing the bridge might be routine, daily commute to work from San Francisco to Marin City or Sausalito, nothing special, there, back, dinner. As a tourist, the heart glows when you – finally – drive over them. 1.7 miles of the Golden Gate Bridge from a worm’s-eye view, speed limit 45 miles per hour, you shouldn’t speed over it faster here, otherwise you’ll miss what stretches to the right and left and above your head: Art Nouveau architecture at its finest, a masterful engineering feat in sunset red (more precisely: “International Orange”), which has defied northern Californian storms and earthquakes since 1937.
The Golden Gate Bridge is the manifestation of a European-romanticized longing for America, fueled by the intros and cuts from 1990s sitcoms like “Full House,” in which the steel of the suspension bridge stretches into the blue sky. It looks as if someone had Photoshopped it into a painting or drawn it by hand, oil on canvas, in the middle of the bays to which the Pacific laps, behind which nothing comes for a long time. Eventually you would come across Japan. Feels like a trip over the edge of the world.
You can also cross the Golden Gate Bridge on foot or by bike, it’s definitely worth it, the only thing missing is the sound of the Spotify playlist specially prepared for this moment with the amateur title “Roadtrip USA” from the speakers. It’s best to turn it up loud, even better with the windows down and the wind in your hair. But only if no cold fog envelops the bridge.