Giesen stands before the statue of Sun Yat-sen in St. Mary's square, discussing the history behind the figure to his tour group.
Giesen stands before the statue of Sun Yat-sen in St. Mary's square, discussing the notable figure's history to his tour group. Photo by Gilare Zada.

Nearly every Saturday, you can find David Giesen sitting in the lobby of the American Youth Hostel on Mason, pulling chess pieces and stuffed cows out of his backpack.

The local educator, based in Bernal Heights, teaches English and history at the German International School. He dedicates his weekends to leading a free tour that takes mostly foreign tourists through San Francisco, discussing its history and notable figures.

Giesen, who has been leading these tours since 1998, is fixated with the connection between land and the human experience.

Chess pieces, cats, and stuffed cows

On a recent Saturday, some seven or eight tourists file down the narrow stairway to the basement lounge at 9 a.m. They greet a man dressed from head to toe in army-green clothes, sporting a cap with its bill flipped up, like an outdoors wilderness instructor. 

He hands out copies of an etching. “Look for the cat, if you will,” he says. “It’s hidden in there.”

Giesen then pulls items out of a bag: Two stuffed cows, a handful of chess pieces, and a massive binder overflowing with photos and notes.

He holds the cows in each hand, using them to explain the differences between socialism and capitalism. “If a man gives both of them away vs. keeping it to himself … ” 

The tourists, all of whom hail from countries such as Australia, Portugal, Brazil and France, seem as fascinated as they are confused. 

He points to the chess pieces. “These mean nothing,” Giesen says. “It’s only when you have the board that these pieces have meaning.”

Giesen stands and beckons the tour group towards the exit. 

“You’ll have to scamper to keep up. I’m cramming 29 hours of knowledge into just two.” 

He’s right.  

Talk of geoeconomics, cosmology, coastal cities, and other concepts ricochet off Giesen’s tongue like artillery.

As tourists try to keep up, Giesen turns onto O’Farrell. 

“Right down there, is the wealth of our city, all the biotechnology and finance companies,” Giesen says, pointing towards the Financial District. Stopping to turn in the opposite direction, he notes the district’s neighbor, the Tenderloin, “the poorest neighborhood in this city.”

He stops occasionally, opening his binder to show photos of the Black Panthers, Huey Newton, and Cecil Williams. 

Giesen pauses in front of an apartment building that was formerly home to the Diggers, a group of community-action 1960s activists most notable for their antics that exposed the capitalist elite. 

Giesen walks down Sutter, his binder and teaching implements tucked under both arms.
Giesen walks down Sutter, his binder and teaching implements tucked under both arms. Photo by Gilare Zada.

The divine in everything

Giesen stops at 450 Sutter St. to discuss the Art Deco building’s history, as well as its visionary, Timothy Phlueger, a prominent architect who was born in the Mission.

He singles out a snake-like design above the entryway that is the Sefirot, a Jewish mystic emblem for the degrees of coordination with the divine. 

The Sefirot, he explains, indicates that the divine exists in everything, “from the human all the way down to the bugs at our feet.” 

Under the sky, all things are connected

The last leg of Giesen’s tour opens at the beginning of Chinatown. The archway, known as the Dragon Gate, bears a phrase in Chinese, which translates to “all under heaven is for the good of the people.” 

“Under the sky, all things are connected,” he says as he stands beneath the arch.

Onward. Giesen stops to point to two flags that ripple ahead, one from Taiwan, the other from the People’s Republic of China. 

“This is a symbol of accommodation. The only place on the planet where they can coexist.” 

When the tour ends, some members of the group peel off immediately, perhaps overwhelmed by the large amount of information peddled to them in such a short amount of time.

One of them pulls a wad of bills from her wallet before she departs. When she offers it to Giesen, he shakes his head vehemently. 

“I don’t do this for the money,” he says.

He then turns and walks across the street, through the Dragon Gate, beneath the flags and rows of lanterns, connected under the sky.

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Gilare Zada is a Kurdish American, hailing from San Diego, California. She attended Stanford University, where she earned her bachelor's in English and her master's in journalism. During her time writing for the Stanford magazine and the Peninsula Press, she grew passionate about narrative form and function within the reporting sphere. At Mission Local, Gilare hopes to use her data skills to deliver human stories, as well as add Spanish to her list of four languages.

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1 Comment

  1. Wow! Yet another wonderful and astounding piece on a local individual who human who is living among us and making meaning in a time of darkness and nonsense. A bright light. I will go on this walk and learn from this wizard.

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