It was Monday, I got up, showered, and got dressed before ("Ooh minty!") preparing breakfast in the middle of the breakfast bar where it was dogproof. I had summoned up courage and decided to go into town - on the bus and the train. Margie gave me a lift to Linda Mar, where I bravely caught the bus to Daly City, where I bravely caught the BART. In the City it was sunny but with a cool breeze blowing in from the sea, the top of the Golden Gate obscured by fog. "What a great burning combination!" I thought, remembering the suntan lotion lounging in my suitcase.
I hoiked out the guide and riffled through to find the "Downtown Walk", the book, Lets Go San Francisco, I had bought from the remainders box in a bookshop, as I now consulted it I discovered it to be, "The Budget Conscious Traveller's Guide" something I hadn't noticed before - honest, though it did explain the directions to walk everywhere. I started out, looking for the cartoon museum - moved, the fortune cookie shop in Chinatown - moved, Jack Kerouac's bookstore - moved, Lyle Tuttle's tattoo museum - a lot can happen in five years. The big bits of architecture fortunately proved immutable, I enjoyed the Yerba Buena Arts Centre initially for its post-breakfast-coffee rest rooms and later for the Martin Luther King Jr Memorial (the aqueous nature of which leads inevitably back to the restrooms). The memorial consists, finally, of a waterfall, representing the change in the Black Man's enfranchisement - drips to waterfalls. Sadly the memorial is made of granite so that the waterfall is never going to get noticeably bigger which, equally sadly, feels apposite.
On to Chinatown, moving rapidly through the main tourist section with it's OTT objet's d'art (I though ivory importation was illegal) and tat stores, full of fans, fireworks, buddhas and lucky kittys, to Chinatown proper and shops full of soon-to-be-unlucky frogs, soon-to-be-unlucky catfish, previously unlucky chickens and the like. I turned a corner - Italy. Hang on, turn back - China, go left - Italy, how strange.
Popped into the art school and checked out the Rivera at the San Francisco Art Institute, something that should remain there 'til the Big One.
After the sublime, the ridiculous, I arrived at Fisherman's Wharf, how shall I sum it up? Ooh, Rainforest Cafe, Hard Rock Cafe, T shirt shops that sort of thing. I gave up, caught an antique tram (not a cablecar) which wheezed up to Market and then did the reverse journey with an extra bus thrown in. During the wait for the transfer I went into the Linda Mar Safeway and experienced a strange deja vu, it was familiar but wrong, I eventually sorted it out, it was identical to Half Moon Bay but inverted, so that the pickles were where the bread should be and so on, how dare they non-standardise their stores, I mean if it was on the other side of the equator I could understand it!
I arrived back (You've been through Chinatown, and had a strange experience in Safeway), we had a quiet night in.
It was Tuesday, I rose and had bre (Your inside leg measurement is twenty nine inches) akfast then Margie took me to Purissima Creek Preserve, showed me a path and said, "See you in six hours."
Purissima Creek is a mixed Douglas Fir and Coastal Redwood forest, the Redwoods were logged out about 100 years ago when they were cut and then dynamited into convenient chunks to put on the railroad for Redwood City. Over the past 100 years, new growth of "Daughter Trees" has taken place, so that as you wander through the forest you become aware of tree boles about fifteen feet across sprouting (if one can use that on this scale) several five foot diameter, 150 feet tall siblings. The original forest must have been truly awe-inspiring, sadly the sort of awe that said, "Shee-it look at all that there wood. There's a powerful lot of planks to be sawed outta them thar trees.".
The path climbed up into the fog (yes fog) heading up for the North Ridge where there "are fantastic views over Half Moon Bay" today there was a view of the fog, however my disappointment was tempered by the sight of a Banana Slug (the world's second largest slug) followed by finding a lizard's tail on the path. Lizards shed their tails when being chased as a diversionary tactic or possibly a consolation prize, I found the tail but no lizard, so it looked like the tactic had failed this time. As I moved back into the woods the sun came out, actually I think I climbed above the fog, it was balmy, I slipped into my shorts, crossed the peak and started off down another trail. Not being the nervous type, stoic Brits and all that, I decided not to worry about Poison Ivy (probably cos I was on the West Coast), Poison Oak and Diamond Back Rattlers, consequently when a humming bird flew behind me at knee level I only yelped a small amount, rather than the full blown scream of lesser mortals.
The path contoured down and round the mountain, diving back into the trees. Naturally as I contoured down and round the mountain the fog receded before me, no doubt revealing fantastic views of Half Moon Bay, though it did allow me to see more trees. It was about this point that disaster struck,and the elastic on my underpants gave up (some of you may realise that this is a not uncommon experience for me, my pants being of a certain age), so it was that I continued with, perhaps, a more refreshing outlook on life. A mile before the finish I saw my first human, I think I ruined his day too.
I returned to the Gaterpad and (Your elastic's gone!) pottered in the garden before settling for a doze in the sun. Rocket also settled for a doze, finding the one strip of sunlight (there was a yardful to choose from) that was Rocket width and sunned his belly.
In the evening we went to The Half Moon Bay Brewhouse it being $2.50 Tuesday where we met up with Pat and Liz, a couple that I'd subjected to the Nixco Ye Olde Pubbe Tour (now booking) and their two children, Nathan and Grace. The kids went hyper on root beer and I went hypo on the IPA. Later we ate, I had the Baby Back Ribs, half a pig smothered with a trickle of cooling BarBQ sauce with cold garlic mash on the side, they seemed to be having an off day. However, I soldiered on, knowing full well that I had several hours of sleep in which to digest it and partake of the lurid dreams such digestion engendered. My favourite was where I told someone off to inject a little humility into their life (a Doctor - naturally), and then walked across the water to work.
Tomorrow, back to town and Alcatraz.
I hoiked out the guide and riffled through to find the "Downtown Walk", the book, Lets Go San Francisco, I had bought from the remainders box in a bookshop, as I now consulted it I discovered it to be, "The Budget Conscious Traveller's Guide" something I hadn't noticed before - honest, though it did explain the directions to walk everywhere. I started out, looking for the cartoon museum - moved, the fortune cookie shop in Chinatown - moved, Jack Kerouac's bookstore - moved, Lyle Tuttle's tattoo museum - a lot can happen in five years. The big bits of architecture fortunately proved immutable, I enjoyed the Yerba Buena Arts Centre initially for its post-breakfast-coffee rest rooms and later for the Martin Luther King Jr Memorial (the aqueous nature of which leads inevitably back to the restrooms). The memorial consists, finally, of a waterfall, representing the change in the Black Man's enfranchisement - drips to waterfalls. Sadly the memorial is made of granite so that the waterfall is never going to get noticeably bigger which, equally sadly, feels apposite.
On to Chinatown, moving rapidly through the main tourist section with it's OTT objet's d'art (I though ivory importation was illegal) and tat stores, full of fans, fireworks, buddhas and lucky kittys, to Chinatown proper and shops full of soon-to-be-unlucky frogs, soon-to-be-unlucky catfish, previously unlucky chickens and the like. I turned a corner - Italy. Hang on, turn back - China, go left - Italy, how strange.
Popped into the art school and checked out the Rivera at the San Francisco Art Institute, something that should remain there 'til the Big One.
After the sublime, the ridiculous, I arrived at Fisherman's Wharf, how shall I sum it up? Ooh, Rainforest Cafe, Hard Rock Cafe, T shirt shops that sort of thing. I gave up, caught an antique tram (not a cablecar) which wheezed up to Market and then did the reverse journey with an extra bus thrown in. During the wait for the transfer I went into the Linda Mar Safeway and experienced a strange deja vu, it was familiar but wrong, I eventually sorted it out, it was identical to Half Moon Bay but inverted, so that the pickles were where the bread should be and so on, how dare they non-standardise their stores, I mean if it was on the other side of the equator I could understand it!
I arrived back (You've been through Chinatown, and had a strange experience in Safeway), we had a quiet night in.
It was Tuesday, I rose and had bre (Your inside leg measurement is twenty nine inches) akfast then Margie took me to Purissima Creek Preserve, showed me a path and said, "See you in six hours."
Purissima Creek is a mixed Douglas Fir and Coastal Redwood forest, the Redwoods were logged out about 100 years ago when they were cut and then dynamited into convenient chunks to put on the railroad for Redwood City. Over the past 100 years, new growth of "Daughter Trees" has taken place, so that as you wander through the forest you become aware of tree boles about fifteen feet across sprouting (if one can use that on this scale) several five foot diameter, 150 feet tall siblings. The original forest must have been truly awe-inspiring, sadly the sort of awe that said, "Shee-it look at all that there wood. There's a powerful lot of planks to be sawed outta them thar trees.".
The path climbed up into the fog (yes fog) heading up for the North Ridge where there "are fantastic views over Half Moon Bay" today there was a view of the fog, however my disappointment was tempered by the sight of a Banana Slug (the world's second largest slug) followed by finding a lizard's tail on the path. Lizards shed their tails when being chased as a diversionary tactic or possibly a consolation prize, I found the tail but no lizard, so it looked like the tactic had failed this time. As I moved back into the woods the sun came out, actually I think I climbed above the fog, it was balmy, I slipped into my shorts, crossed the peak and started off down another trail. Not being the nervous type, stoic Brits and all that, I decided not to worry about Poison Ivy (probably cos I was on the West Coast), Poison Oak and Diamond Back Rattlers, consequently when a humming bird flew behind me at knee level I only yelped a small amount, rather than the full blown scream of lesser mortals.
The path contoured down and round the mountain, diving back into the trees. Naturally as I contoured down and round the mountain the fog receded before me, no doubt revealing fantastic views of Half Moon Bay, though it did allow me to see more trees. It was about this point that disaster struck,and the elastic on my underpants gave up (some of you may realise that this is a not uncommon experience for me, my pants being of a certain age), so it was that I continued with, perhaps, a more refreshing outlook on life. A mile before the finish I saw my first human, I think I ruined his day too.
I returned to the Gaterpad and (Your elastic's gone!) pottered in the garden before settling for a doze in the sun. Rocket also settled for a doze, finding the one strip of sunlight (there was a yardful to choose from) that was Rocket width and sunned his belly.
In the evening we went to The Half Moon Bay Brewhouse it being $2.50 Tuesday where we met up with Pat and Liz, a couple that I'd subjected to the Nixco Ye Olde Pubbe Tour (now booking) and their two children, Nathan and Grace. The kids went hyper on root beer and I went hypo on the IPA. Later we ate, I had the Baby Back Ribs, half a pig smothered with a trickle of cooling BarBQ sauce with cold garlic mash on the side, they seemed to be having an off day. However, I soldiered on, knowing full well that I had several hours of sleep in which to digest it and partake of the lurid dreams such digestion engendered. My favourite was where I told someone off to inject a little humility into their life (a Doctor - naturally), and then walked across the water to work.
Tomorrow, back to town and Alcatraz.
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