In all my years of traveling, I'd never been to California -- except when I had flight layovers en route to other destinations. Los Angeles wasn't high on my list of dream vacation destinations, and I wasn't sold on San Diego. That only left me with one option: San Francisco.
I was drawn to the Bay Area city for many reasons, from checking out its historical landmarks to learning about its roots in social activism. (Given what's at stake in the presidential election between George W. Bush and John Kerry, I should've taken a detour to Washington, D.C., instead.) I could also see myself working here if the opportunity presented itself, for it sounded like a fascinating place to call home.
While San Francisco isn't immune from a high cost of living and widespread homelessness, I didn't let those conditions stop me from experiencing all that it had to offer ... but nothing could prepare me for the uphill battle of getting around by foot.
Welcome to the Golden State
When my plane touched down at the airport on Sunday afternoon, I expected the weather to be cold and foggy. I was surprised -- yet pleased -- to find that it felt more like summer instead of autumn. Such conditions are ideal for traveling ... but I'd only packed one t-shirt and a denim skirt in my suitcase (everything else was long-sleeve shirts and pants), so I spent the first half of my vacation feeling slightly overdressed.
I hopped on the BART train, arriving at the Civic Center about 45 minutes later. Upon settling in at the hostel in Tenderloin, I had mixed feelings about its location: on the plus side, I wasn't too far from Market Street ... but, on the other hand, the neighborhood was full of undesirable characters. Since I'm a city girl, I didn't feel out of place -- just annoyed that I flew across the country only to be surrounded by the same bad elements that are in New York.
Chinatown
On that note, I went to Chinatown -- not to be confused with the movie -- on Sunday afternoon to buy souvenirs and sample dim sum. Walking through the gate at Grant Avenue and Bush Street was like being transported halfway across the world as residents and tourists crowded the streets. Chinese roots in this city date back to the mid-1800s, when millions of people emigrated from their homeland in search of a better life.
Speaking of history, one of the neighborhood's main attractions is the Golden Gate Fortune Cookie Company. In business since 1962, this factory makes its namesake product by hand, luring passersby to witness their handiwork and purchase their goods. (I don't care for the taste, but I enjoy breaking them apart to read the proverbs.) Due to its location, the shop may be easy to miss ... but the smell is hard to ignore.
Golden Gate Bridge (Part One)
I was indecisive about what I wanted to do on Monday morning, so I tried to cram as much as I could into 24 hours -- even though I was in town for another six days. (Go figure.) I headed to Powell Street to catch the Powell/Hyde cable car to Fisherman's Wharf, where I did some window shopping and took in beautiful views of the bay. At that point, it dawned on me that I should rent a bike and ride it across the Golden Gate Bridge.
As luck would have it, I found myself in front of Blazing Saddles at Pier 41. They offered reasonable rates for their bikes, and I was prepared to rent one when I realized I left my credit card at the hostel. The cashier said I had to leave a deposit of $150, which I did before riding off toward the iconic overpass. (I'm not sure why I was carrying that much cash on me, but I made sure I returned the bike in one piece.)
Golden Gate Bridge (Part Two)
I maneuvered my way along Jefferson Street until I reached Aquatic Park, where I observed birds lining the shore before reaching the slope near Fort Mason. Channeling my inner Lance Armstrong, I navigated the incline and breezed through the park to Marina Green. I paced myself as I got closer to the bridge, for I wanted to relish this once-in-a-lifetime experience.
The fertile grass seemed to stretch for miles as I approached Crissy Field, and I enjoyed being surrounded by so much nature within the confines of a metropolis. I got off my bike to walk on the beach and watch the day go by. After taking in the scenery, I continued on to the visitor's center ... and when I arrived there, I was psyched about riding on the bridge.
I joined dozens of bikers, joggers, and walkers on the east sidewalk heading north to Marin County. A cool breeze settled over the area as sapphire water flowed underneath the bridge and bustling traffic lined its lanes. Alcatraz Island and Angel Island State Park sat to the east, while the Pacific Ocean lied to the west. When I reached the county border, I reversed course and started riding back to my starting point.
The amount of fun I was having couldn't hide the fact that I was tired. When I got to the visitor's center, I "cheated" and took the 28 bus back to Fort Mason. After biking the rest of my way back to Blazing Saddles, I only had one thing on my mind: food.
Tarantino's
Spending nearly three hours on two wheels at a national landmark was a cool way to kill two birds with one stone. Not only did I get some exercise, I also worked up an appetite. I had a taste for seafood, with several restaurants available for my patronage. As fate would have it, Tarantino's was my eatery of choice on Monday afternoon.
I ordered a plate of penne chicken breast Contadina (marinated chicken breast, olive oil, sun-dried tomato, fresh basil and garlic), a cup of New England clam chowder, and a glass of lemonade. I had a great view of the "Bushman" preying on unsuspecting tourists from my table at the window overlooking the pier. (I managed not to fall for his act ... but I don't see how he pulls it off in the first place, since his "shrubbery" sticks out amongst the water and concrete.) Observing this spectacle was an interesting way to pass the time while I enjoyed my lunch.
A Ride to Nowhere
Feeling re-energized, I waited in line to ride the cable car back to the hostel when I encountered some tourists from the New England area. I good-naturedly teased them about the series between the New York Yankees and the Boston Red Sox for the American League pennant. (I'm not a baseball fan, but I can't help but be amused by the rivalry between these two teams.) They were guardedly optimistic about the Red Sox's chances to advance to the World Series, while I figured the Yankees would dash their postseason hopes yet again.
I boarded the cable car, riding in the front as I held a pole. Lumbering through Russian Hill was uneventful until we reached the Cable Car Barn and Powerhouse. At that point, the gripman said his shift was over and got off the vehicle -- even though his replacement wasn't at the depot. Many passengers were left stranded ... and his behavior left me infuriated.
Hiking the rest of the way back to the hostel, I explored Nob Hill and watched the city come alive for the evening rush hour. After reaching my destination, I concluded that Denver -- a place I've never visited -- has nothing on San Francisco when it comes to being "the mile-high city."
Urban Forage
Eager to escape the tourist scene, I went to the Mission District on Monday night and indulged in healthy eating at Urban Forage. (I tried my hand at being a vegetarian many years ago ... but strayed when my local McDonald's held a 99-cent sale on Big Macs.) I munched on an urban burger with corn bread, a side of sweet potatoes, and sipped a Razzle Dazzle. As much as I enjoyed my dinner, it failed to entice me into a life without consuming meat, fish, and dairy products.
Wine Country (Part One)
It's been said that an alcoholic can't start their day without having a drink. I'm not a lush, but I kicked off Tuesday morning by going to wine country as part of a sightseeing tour.
A shuttle bus arrived at the hostel to take me to Pier 43½ at Fisherman's Wharf, where I transferred to another bus heading to Napa and Sonoma. During the ride over Bay Bridge to Oakland, I thought about the 1989 earthquake and prayed that I wouldn't experience a natural disaster while I was in town. As noisy highways turned into quiet roads, the driver told passengers about Christopher Reeve's death. The news took me by surprise, and I decided that my first drink would be a toast in his memory.
The first stop on the tour was a wine store. I browsed their selection and took part in a tasting, where I developed an immediate liking for sweet wine. Some brands were more expensive than others, as I discovered when I brought four bottles to the cash register and the total came to $60 -- $3 more than the cost of the tour itself. Being the thrifty person that I am, I decided not to buy anything, since I figured I'd buy more wine later on in the day. It was a decision that I'd come to regret.
Wine Country (Part Two)
Upon arriving at the Kirkland Ranch Winery, I walked around the expansive lodge and admired its well-manicured grounds. An employee summoned the group upstairs to try their products, which ranged from Pinot Grigio to Cabernet Sauvignon. We also learned what qualities constitute a good wine before having a few sips of several varietals. Afterward, I continued soaking up the picturesque scenery before departing for our next destination.
We traveled seven miles northwest on Tuesday afternoon to Madonna Estate, a 4½-acre winery that made libations such as Chardonnay and Merlot. After going to the tasting room to sample a few wines, I went outside to explore the vineyard and pick a cluster of red grapes. I watched a farmer stand on a platform and sift the grapes out of a crate into the destemmer, a machine that separated the fruit from its stem. Another farmer was on the ground emptying the stems into a large bin, while the juice was redirected into a hose that connected to a tank. The liquid was then put in containers that were stored in the barrel room, where thousands of gallons of wine are aged to perfection.
My quest for intoxicated bliss carried on as the tour bus crossed the county border and drove nearly ten miles southwest to Viansa Winery and Italian Marketplace. The villa specialized in making Italian wines, from Arneis to Sangiovese, and was surrounded by nature as far as the eye could see. From preserved wetlands to olive groves, it was the ideal place to drink some alcohol as the sun hovered over Northern California.
In visiting a wine store and three wineries over a seven-hour period, the only thing I purchased was a jar of Tres Classique lemon cream dessert sauce. While some wines managed to stir my taste buds, I couldn't shake the impulse to kick myself for not buying those bottles of sweet wine when I had the chance. Nevertheless, being in wine country was like being in Sideways -- minus the whiff of romance in the air.
La'zeez
Tasting various types of wine for hours on end made me hungry ... and since I had a taste for Asian cuisine, I went to La'zeez on Tuesday night. I ate basil lamb (lamb cooked with basil and vegetables) and nasi putih (white rice), with coconut bananas (deep-fried bananas dipped in shredded coconut and served with hot caramel sauce) and a glass of mango lassi (yogurt and mango pulp).
The entrée was delicious and the drink was scrumptious, but the appetizer was dry and the dessert was nasty. Overall, the meal didn't satisfy my palate ... but the décor did stimulate my eye, especially in the bathroom. It resembled a first-class hotel, with soft lighting and an indoor waterfall.
I was once told that a restaurant can be judged by how well its lavatory is maintained. In this case, the restroom gets an A-plus, while the food gets a D-minus.
The entrée was delicious and the drink was scrumptious, but the appetizer was dry and the dessert was nasty. Overall, the meal didn't satisfy my palate ... but the décor did stimulate my eye, especially in the bathroom. It resembled a first-class hotel, with soft lighting and an indoor waterfall.
I was once told that a restaurant can be judged by how well its lavatory is maintained. In this case, the restroom gets an A-plus, while the food gets a D-minus.
Japanese Tea Garden
Even though I don't think of myself as an outdoorswoman, show me a park and I'll find an activity to do there. That line of reasoning brought me to Golden Gate Park on Wednesday morning.
Asian culture plays a prominent role in the city, so it only makes sense that one of the park's most famous landmarks is the Japanese Tea Garden. I could've spent hours exploring more than 1,000 acres of open space and still not see everything the park has to offer. In addition to the garden is a horse stable, golf course, two windmills, nine lakes, and many fields for various sports.
One of the tourist attractions I passed was the National AIDS Memorial Grove, where I took a few minutes to reflect on the disease and the millions of people who died from it before reaching my destination. At that point, I stood at the Main Gate to admire the view before paying $3.50 to enter the tranquil landscape.
The setting put me in the mood for meditation, and I strolled around the garden until I found myself at Drum Bridge. Other worthwhile sights included the Pagoda, Buddha, Hagiwara Gate, and Tea House, where I bought a cup of their namesake drink before heading for greener pastures.
Lawn Bowling for Dummies
As much as I enjoyed myself at the garden, I wasn't ready to leave the park. I walked nearly a half-mile east before finding myself at the lawn bowling greens on Wednesday afternoon. Eager to learn more about the game, I took advantage of the free lesson being offered by the local club.
The instructor explained the rules and showed me how to roll the bowl (an asymmetrical black ball) as close to the jack (a small white ball) as possible. I stood on the mat and tossed the bowl forward, watching it roll down the rink. My opponent -- who also came for a free lesson -- followed suit, and we played several matches.
Our lack of experience showed as my bowls landed in the ditch and his bowls passed the boundary markers. After more than an hour, we called it quits -- with yours truly emerging as the loser. Since becoming the next Sir Francis Drake wasn't in my future, I made my way to the birthplace of the hippie movement.
Haight and Ashbury
Images of tie-dye shirts and psychedelic drugs popped into my head when I arrived at the intersection of Haight and Ashbury streets. I wasn't there to heed Timothy Leary's advice and "turn on, tune in, drop out," but to see some relics from the "Summer of Love." Unfortunately, trendy boutiques and young squatters have taken over what was once a gathering spot for those rebelling against the political upheaval of the 1960s.
Les Joulins
I relished the unseasonably warm weather during the past three days, but hunger pains beckoned me indoors. Since I was in Union Square, I decided to have dinner at Les Joulins on Wednesday night.
Live music wafted through the air as I consumed my meal, and waiters scurried around the restaurant while customers dined on French cuisine. Being in such an environment was a great way to pass the time after dusk settled upon the Bay Area.
Live music wafted through the air as I consumed my meal, and waiters scurried around the restaurant while customers dined on French cuisine. Being in such an environment was a great way to pass the time after dusk settled upon the Bay Area.
A Day at the Museum (Part One)
One of the qualities I look for in visiting a city is a vibrant arts scene. I found that at the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art on Thursday morning.
After studying its architecture, I picked up a directory and went to the fifth floor to check out New Work: Evan Holloway and Dave Muller. Through my eyes, Holloway's "Map" sculpture and Muller's "Sprawling" drawing installation were metaphors for the urban world, where diversity and individualism converge to form a collective identity amid the ebb and flow of life. Later, I walked over to Between Art and Life: The Contemporary Painting and Sculpture Collection, which focused on works created after 1960. Robert Rauschenberg and Cindy Sherman were among the artists highlighted in the show.
One floor below was the William Eggleston: Los Alamos exhibit. I've always liked photography as an artistic medium because, as revealed in his series of pictures, it captures the beauty of simplicity. The media galleries nearby housed Double Feature: Mary Lucier and Gordon Matta-Clark. I looked at her video installation and watched his short films for about ten minutes before proceeding downstairs.
After studying its architecture, I picked up a directory and went to the fifth floor to check out New Work: Evan Holloway and Dave Muller. Through my eyes, Holloway's "Map" sculpture and Muller's "Sprawling" drawing installation were metaphors for the urban world, where diversity and individualism converge to form a collective identity amid the ebb and flow of life. Later, I walked over to Between Art and Life: The Contemporary Painting and Sculpture Collection, which focused on works created after 1960. Robert Rauschenberg and Cindy Sherman were among the artists highlighted in the show.
One floor below was the William Eggleston: Los Alamos exhibit. I've always liked photography as an artistic medium because, as revealed in his series of pictures, it captures the beauty of simplicity. The media galleries nearby housed Double Feature: Mary Lucier and Gordon Matta-Clark. I looked at her video installation and watched his short films for about ten minutes before proceeding downstairs.
A Day at the Museum (Part Two)
Extravagance awaited me on the third floor as I entered the world of Glamour: Fashion, Industrial Design, Architecture. For an extra $5 -- in addition to the $10 admission fee -- I discovered how the concept influences how we see ourselves and our surroundings, whether it's in wearing a Gianni Versace dress or driving a Bentley coupé. It was also interesting to learn how glamour evolved from an idea of scorn to a badge of honor.
On the second floor was Matisse and Beyond: The Painting and Sculpture Collection. That exhibit focused on artistic periods ranging from Fauvism to Minimalism, with Henri Matisse serving as inspiration for other artists throughout the 20th century (and, hence, the focal point of the show).
Upon leaving the museum, it dawned on me that being enclosed by four walls can sometimes be a good thing. This sentiment would take on new meaning as I went looking for trouble in the San Francisco Bay.
On the second floor was Matisse and Beyond: The Painting and Sculpture Collection. That exhibit focused on artistic periods ranging from Fauvism to Minimalism, with Henri Matisse serving as inspiration for other artists throughout the 20th century (and, hence, the focal point of the show).
Upon leaving the museum, it dawned on me that being enclosed by four walls can sometimes be a good thing. This sentiment would take on new meaning as I went looking for trouble in the San Francisco Bay.
Alcatraz Island
I pride myself on being a law-abiding citizen, yet I ended up doing time at Alcatraz Island on Thursday afternoon. Joining dozens of tourists for the evening tour, the ferry arrived at the dock nearly 15 minutes after leaving Fisherman's Wharf.
The first thing I noticed about the historic penitentiary was the painted welcome sign that dates back to when Native American protesters occupied the island from 1969 to 1971. Although it's mostly known for housing criminals like Al 'Scarface' Capone and Robert 'Birdman' Stroud, Alcatraz was also a fortress and military prison. A winding path linked Building 64 to the Cellhouse, and visitors could see the dilapidated Lighthouse and the ruins of the Warden's House before entering the prison.
Walking down Alcatraz's halls of infamy made me think of Oz, without the rowdy inmates. Seeing Capone's cell and checking out a solitary confinement room were among the highlights of my trip; other worthwhile sights included visiting a cell where an escape took place and experiencing "lights out" for a few seconds.
Scoma's
Spending hours surrounded by water gave me a craving for seafood, and word of mouth brought me to Scoma's on Thursday night. Based on the menu near the entrance, I sensed it was an upscale restaurant ... and when I walked through its doors, I quickly discovered why: it caters to everyday folks as well as famous clientele.
The walls were decorated with pictures of its owner, Al Scoma, posing with luminaries from the worlds of entertainment and sports. This made for an ironic sight as I eavesdropped on the waiter telling a couple sitting near me that he once served Jennifer Aniston and Brad Pitt. He said they tried to blend in, despite being recognized, and were gracious customers. When pressed for more information, he stated that most celebrities he encountered while on the job were nice people.
I munched on popcorn shrimp, a fried combo plate (prawns, sea scallops, and sole), a lemon tart, and a glass of 7-Up soda. The combination of good food and prompt service made for a wonderful dining experience; my only regret is that I didn't sit by the window for a view of the pier -- even though there wasn't much to see, since it was dark outside.
The walls were decorated with pictures of its owner, Al Scoma, posing with luminaries from the worlds of entertainment and sports. This made for an ironic sight as I eavesdropped on the waiter telling a couple sitting near me that he once served Jennifer Aniston and Brad Pitt. He said they tried to blend in, despite being recognized, and were gracious customers. When pressed for more information, he stated that most celebrities he encountered while on the job were nice people.
I munched on popcorn shrimp, a fried combo plate (prawns, sea scallops, and sole), a lemon tart, and a glass of 7-Up soda. The combination of good food and prompt service made for a wonderful dining experience; my only regret is that I didn't sit by the window for a view of the pier -- even though there wasn't much to see, since it was dark outside.
Lombard Street
In the 1970s, Michael Douglas and Karl Malden patrolled The Streets of San Francisco. I tried to follow in their footsteps on Friday morning by going to Lombard Street.
Like most of the city's roads, it was a steep thoroughfare that made its way through several neighborhoods ... but its beauty was best seen between Hyde and Leavenworth streets. Motorists who dared to travel east navigated switchbacks while manicured greens lined both sides of the street. For those getting around by foot, the sidewalks had steps to help one move to and fro.
Its eight twists and turns reminded me of the Cyclone, and I observed the "crooked street" from several vantage points. Cars drove along the brick-paved road for a few minutes of excitement, while pedestrians hiked the pathway as an endurance test. After going up and down the street -- literally! -- for a half-hour, I was ready to flee the concrete jungle.
Green Thumb
I made my getaway to the San Francisco Botanical Garden, where they conducted a free tour on Friday afternoon. The docent helped me take some time off my hands by showing various plants and trees to the visitors, explaining their characteristics and the habitats they thrive in. Other than the sound of feet shuffling or birds chirping, we spent nearly an hour wandering the arboretum's 55 acres in silence.
Ginza
Visiting tourist attractions on an empty stomach was starting to catch up with me, so I headed to Ginza on Friday night for an energy boost. The hostess guided me to a table with a great view of Chinatown, and I made small talk with the waitress while enjoying the restaurant's ambience. I absent-mindedly studied the menu to take my mind off the fact that I was dining alone ... but I couldn't help noticing the couples and groups chatting and eating as the weekend got underway.
My dinner consisted of gyoza (crispy fried Japanese pot stickers), chicken teriyaki, fried green tea ice cream, and iced tea. The poultry was delectable, while the appetizer was forgettable ... but my biggest complaint was with the dessert. I like green tea and I love ice cream, but combining these two sweets made for a nasty product.
My dinner consisted of gyoza (crispy fried Japanese pot stickers), chicken teriyaki, fried green tea ice cream, and iced tea. The poultry was delectable, while the appetizer was forgettable ... but my biggest complaint was with the dessert. I like green tea and I love ice cream, but combining these two sweets made for a nasty product.
A Night at the Café (Part One)
In the mood for some excitement, I hopped on the F streetcar en route to the Castro. The only destination I had in mind when it reached the terminal was finding the place with the most male eye candy. (Being around gay people isn't an issue for me, since my awareness of homosexuality dates back to my teen years, when I went to high school in Hell's Kitchen and attended college in Greenwich Village.) After checking out a few bars and seeing one male couple hold a make-out session as if no one else was around, I found myself in front of the Café.
For two dollars, I watched two men use a pool table as a dance floor and observed a man in a wheelchair partying to his heart's content. (You had to be there.) Cheap admission usually means early arrival or early closing, and I was disappointed to learn that nightlife in the city shuts down at 2 a.m. Fortunately, a stranger named Greg came along to hold my interest.
For two dollars, I watched two men use a pool table as a dance floor and observed a man in a wheelchair partying to his heart's content. (You had to be there.) Cheap admission usually means early arrival or early closing, and I was disappointed to learn that nightlife in the city shuts down at 2 a.m. Fortunately, a stranger named Greg came along to hold my interest.
A Night at the Café (Part Two)
With his diminutive frame and close-cropped hair, Greg wasn't the kind of guy I'd find attractive ... but his easygoing demeanor won me over. When he told me that he was a 41-year-old sous chef who was bisexual, I was taken aback by his age; most of the patrons were in their 20s and 30s. He asked me to dance ... and since the disc jockey was spinning music that brought out my inner Fatima Robinson, I took him up on his offer.
The crowd was split between the sexes, and all was going well until Greg tried to lift my shirt. I knocked his hands down and told him that he didn't know me well enough to pull such a stunt. He said he wasn't trying to be fresh, and urged me not to make a scene. At that point, he told me about a gay mating ritual where if two men are interested in each other, they'll lift each other's shirts and press their chests together. I didn't know what to make of this information, but I told him that I was keeping my clothes on. (The only reason I continued socializing with him was because I felt I could hold my own against him if we ended up in a fight.)
After exchanging a few kisses, we left the club to eat at a nearby diner. Greg extended an invitation for me to spend the night with him, but I declined. Going down the path of sex without love is a road best left not traveled, for there's no guarantee of short-term pleasure -- only long-term emptiness. (I also thought he was a lousy kisser.) We parted ways on a cordial note, and I watched him walk down the street before hailing a cab back to the hostel.
The crowd was split between the sexes, and all was going well until Greg tried to lift my shirt. I knocked his hands down and told him that he didn't know me well enough to pull such a stunt. He said he wasn't trying to be fresh, and urged me not to make a scene. At that point, he told me about a gay mating ritual where if two men are interested in each other, they'll lift each other's shirts and press their chests together. I didn't know what to make of this information, but I told him that I was keeping my clothes on. (The only reason I continued socializing with him was because I felt I could hold my own against him if we ended up in a fight.)
After exchanging a few kisses, we left the club to eat at a nearby diner. Greg extended an invitation for me to spend the night with him, but I declined. Going down the path of sex without love is a road best left not traveled, for there's no guarantee of short-term pleasure -- only long-term emptiness. (I also thought he was a lousy kisser.) We parted ways on a cordial note, and I watched him walk down the street before hailing a cab back to the hostel.
Berkeley
Alice Cooper once sang about a world without school ... but that didn't stop me from going to Berkeley on Saturday morning. The university was hosting a football game against UCLA as part of homecoming week, and I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to hop on the BART train and check out the campus.
The first thing I noticed about Berkeley is that it's a typical college town, with dozens of buildings spread out over hundreds of acres. (Direction-challenged folks may find these maps useful.) Students, faculty, alumni, and guests congregated along the Crescent as I strolled the grounds. I had no idea where I was going, so I followed the crowd, passing several halls and libraries before reaching the Campanile.
Being surrounded by a sea of blue and gold made me nervous about being exposed as a "trespasser." Even though I had no ties to the school and no legitimate explanation for my presence, exploring the renowned academic institution was a fun way to pass the time. After walking around for a few more minutes, I retraced my steps to leave the premises.
The first thing I noticed about Berkeley is that it's a typical college town, with dozens of buildings spread out over hundreds of acres. (Direction-challenged folks may find these maps useful.) Students, faculty, alumni, and guests congregated along the Crescent as I strolled the grounds. I had no idea where I was going, so I followed the crowd, passing several halls and libraries before reaching the Campanile.
Being surrounded by a sea of blue and gold made me nervous about being exposed as a "trespasser." Even though I had no ties to the school and no legitimate explanation for my presence, exploring the renowned academic institution was a fun way to pass the time. After walking around for a few more minutes, I retraced my steps to leave the premises.
Oktoberfest by the Bay
I made the transition from academia to alcohol on Saturday afternoon at Oktoberfest by the Bay. A long line for admission and a few intoxicated attendees greeted me at Fort Mason, where I spent nearly $30 to eat, drink, and be merry. While the converted warehouse didn't conjure up images of Germany, I managed to experience a taste of its culture by munching on strudel, swallowing a shot of Jägermeister, and doing the chicken dance with strangers.
When I wasn't making a fool of myself on the dance floor, I watched a folk dance troupe perform routines like the Schuhplattler and the Bergmannstanz. One dancer who caught my eye was a boy who, based on outward appearances, didn't seem to be of German descent. (If anything, he looked Latino.) He held his own with the older dancers, though, jumping and twirling in sync with them as if he was a young Mikhail Baryshnikov.
In contrast to the graceful moves on display were random acts of public drunkenness, as both sexes waited in long lines to use the bathrooms. (They must have been too inebriated to walk to the other end of the warehouse, near the entrance, because the restrooms located there were empty.) In a few cases, people had trouble standing, while others became belligerent without provocation. Such observations reminded me of a night out at a neighborhood bar -- except I left the festival around 9 p.m.
Ghirardelli Square
I wasn't in the mood for club-hopping, so I spent Saturday night wandering around Ghirardelli Square. The bay after sunset is a beautiful sight to behold, with lamppost lights bouncing off the dark waters ... and not having the area swarmed with people enhanced its appeal. I window-shopped at a few stores until I saw a line stretching out the door at the Ice Cream and Chocolate Caffe.
Approaching a woman at the back of the line, I asked her if their products justify the wait; she nodded her head. I wondered out loud if the ice cream was better than Häagen-Dazs, and she replied yes. As far as I'm concerned, Häagen-Dazs makes the best ice cream on the market, so I had doubts about the woman's claim. However, curiosity got the best of me, so I followed her lead in buying some ice cream. (The flavor I tried tasted good ... but I still think Häagen-Dazs is better than Ghirardelli.)
Approaching a woman at the back of the line, I asked her if their products justify the wait; she nodded her head. I wondered out loud if the ice cream was better than Häagen-Dazs, and she replied yes. As far as I'm concerned, Häagen-Dazs makes the best ice cream on the market, so I had doubts about the woman's claim. However, curiosity got the best of me, so I followed her lead in buying some ice cream. (The flavor I tried tasted good ... but I still think Häagen-Dazs is better than Ghirardelli.)
Lesbian Chic
Drizzling weather prompted me to return to the hostel. I saw it as an opportunity to start packing for my flight back home as well as get a decent night's rest before heading to the airport on Sunday morning. However, a pair of hostelmates from Ireland had other plans in mind.
I was sleeping when a loud noise woke me up. It was a squeak, and I didn't think much of it until I heard the sound again. I thought it may have been a mouse, and considered getting up to turn the light on and see where this disturbance was coming from ... but my instinct told me to stay in bed. It turned out to be the right decision, for I soon figured out what was going on.
This made for an awkward situation, for I didn't want to be an audience to their lovemaking. Seeing two people do the "horizontal mambo" on screen is one thing; laying less than five feet away from a horny couple is something different. As far as I was concerned, they couldn't finish quickly enough ... and when it was over, I prayed I'd never be subjected to such a crass display of exhibitionism again.
I was sleeping when a loud noise woke me up. It was a squeak, and I didn't think much of it until I heard the sound again. I thought it may have been a mouse, and considered getting up to turn the light on and see where this disturbance was coming from ... but my instinct told me to stay in bed. It turned out to be the right decision, for I soon figured out what was going on.
This made for an awkward situation, for I didn't want to be an audience to their lovemaking. Seeing two people do the "horizontal mambo" on screen is one thing; laying less than five feet away from a horny couple is something different. As far as I was concerned, they couldn't finish quickly enough ... and when it was over, I prayed I'd never be subjected to such a crass display of exhibitionism again.
Summary
I enjoyed my trip to San Francisco ... but after walking its hills, I'd rather visit the city than live there. (Those things are treacherous!) I'll cherish the memories of biking the Golden Gate Bridge, hanging out in wine country, and spending time at Alcatraz Island. However, Gavin Newsom needs to focus more attention on addressing the homeless situation -- not legalizing gay marriage. (I have nothing against homosexual couples who want to tie the knot ... but when there are vagrants sleeping within steps of City Hall, I can't help but question his priorities.)
Upon returning to New York, the Red Sox rallied from a 0-3 deficit to win the ALCS against the Yankees. (Maybe I should've stayed in California for another week.) The team went on to sweep the St. Louis Cardinals and win the World Series for their first championship in 86 years, breaking what was known as the "Curse of the Bambino."
Speaking of victory, Bush prevailed in his re-election bid a week later. Because Kerry didn't forfeit his Senate seat, he continues to represent the people of Massachusetts in the nation's capital. Despite their opposing political affiliations, both men travel around the world in the name of promoting American interests. In the meantime, I remain an adventurous globetrotter in the name of self-discovery.
Upon returning to New York, the Red Sox rallied from a 0-3 deficit to win the ALCS against the Yankees. (Maybe I should've stayed in California for another week.) The team went on to sweep the St. Louis Cardinals and win the World Series for their first championship in 86 years, breaking what was known as the "Curse of the Bambino."
Speaking of victory, Bush prevailed in his re-election bid a week later. Because Kerry didn't forfeit his Senate seat, he continues to represent the people of Massachusetts in the nation's capital. Despite their opposing political affiliations, both men travel around the world in the name of promoting American interests. In the meantime, I remain an adventurous globetrotter in the name of self-discovery.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
