My hippie name is Tempest Rain. Seriously.
We spent every day seeing everything that google had to offer in the area. We stayed in a lovely, vintage hotel in Union Square, went to Fisherman's Wharf, Pier 39, Ghiardelli Square, and Market Street. We walked Lombard Street, took the trolleys, saw A Streetcar Named Desire in an underground college theater, and wandered China Town and all of the bus routes.
The hippies communed in the neighborhood of Haight-Ashbury. Haight-Ashbury is full of beautiful Victorian apartments and the hippies lived in large communes celebrating love and acceptance.
I think I was born in the wrong generation. I could have lived amongst Grace Slick and Jerry Garcia, sunbathed in the San Francisco Park, and learned to play the guitar.