Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Three and a half days to go – time to settle back into The City.  One thing we had promised ourselves on this trip was to walk across the Golden Gate Bridge and back.  We had driven it many times but still had not experienced the thrill of stamding on it midway across the bay.

Abandoning – not for the first time – the late running MUNI buses in our neighbourhood, we walked to Van Ness on another warm, clear morning where we picked up a no.47 to North Point.  From here  we cut through Aquatic Park to Fort Mason where, conscious of eating early this evening, we felt it was time to have a light lunch.  We discovered the Readers’ Cafe in Building B which not only served fine food and the strongest, handcrafted coffee imaginable, but contained a large second hand bookstore. 

As we ate our tofu and avocado sandwich (me) and flapjack (Janet) it was also nice to know that we were contributing towards the San Francisco Public Library.  I took the opportunity here to engage a local woman in conversation about how lucky she was to live here permanently.  Whilst acknowledging her good fortune she said she really loved London!

We have enjoyed our two stops at Fort Mason, barely half a mile from Fisherman’s Wharf yet I wonder how many tourists ever get to visit it or are even aware of it.  And do San Francisco residents make as much use of the facility as they might?

The walk through the Marina and Crissy Field was challenging as we had both the brisk coastal wind and strong sun in our faces.  The Warming Hut, therefore, proved a very welcome refuge.  Aside from the food and drink available it has a very interesting gift shop with a number of San Francisco related books that I had not seen anywhere else. After a short break we walked up the hill to the entrance to the bridge, stopping constantly to take photographs of the killer views.

The camera was called into action many times again as we made the trip over into Marin County.  We quickly became immune to the noise and rush of the traffic, although we had to be on our toes to avoid many of the (local) cyclists who seemed to think they were riding flat out in a velodrome rather than on a pedestrian filled six foot wide pavement.  With the constant photo stops and observation of a sea lion diving for fish, it took us around three quarters of an hour to get to Vista Point on the other side of the bridge. 

After a comfort break and more photographs, we set back across the bridge to make the return journey which took just half an hour.  Coffee and chips were our reward before we caught a no. 28 bus back to Fort Mason

We spent the next hour and a half exploring Ghirardelli Square and Fisherman’s Wharf before retiring to The Franciscan for dinner.  Excellent food, attentive service and sunset over Alcatraz made this one of our better evening meal experiences on the vacation.  I had crab enchiladas and Yukon mashed potatoes with zucchini whilst Janet had Crab and Shrimp Louie with fries.

We took the F Streetcar to Market before picking up the no.5 MUNI bus to take us back to the apartment.


Well, by train from San Francisco we do.

Today we attended our first National Hockey League game, the pinnacle of the sport.  In the early nineties we had followed the Medway Bears, a team in the second/third tier of UK ice hockey who played in front of around 1,000 admittedly passionate fans in a small, tired ice rink.  This was a very different experience.

After yet another lazy morning we caught the no. 5 MUNI bus to Market and walked to the 4th and King Caltrain station for the 2.07pm train to San Jose.  We disembarked the double decker tin can at 3.38 on another hot afternoon and collected our tickets from the box office before wandering into what we thought was downtown to find something to eat.  I’m not sure that we found the real city centre, but we did stumble on what was a decent Mexican chain restaurant, La Pinata, where I had the biggest (shrimp) burrito I have ever seen in my life whilst Janet had shrimp fajitas.  This was washed down with a pitcher ($30) of Top Shelf Margarita.

The area in which we ate, though only a few minutes walk from the arena, struck us as a little seedy, not least because of the shady characters dotted around the streets aiming to buy and sell tickets.  There were also a surprising number of Los Angeles Kings fans around, not I hasten to add that they added to the seedy atmosphere (sic).

We entered the impressive HP Pavilion, which is reminiscent of the O2 Arena in London, around an hour before face off and explored the wonders of the Sharks Store.  Janet confined herself to a t-shirt and an SJ Sharkie (the mascot) soft toy.  We took our fabulous seats in the fifteenth row of the lower tier of the arena to the right of the goal.

 At 7pm the San Jose Sharks emerged from the giant, smoking shark’s mouth to tumultuous applause.  A win tonight would clinch their place in the end of season play offs, so expectation was high.  The LA Kings. who were also in play off contention, were roundly booed as they entered the ice around thirty seconds later.  Any tension was dispelled when the Sharks took a 2-0 lead in the first few minutes, a lead they held until the end of the first period, despite the Kings having the most shots.

The Kings pulled a goal back at the very end of a powerplay at the beginning of the second period, but this only inspired the Sharks to a four goal blast, several of them spectacular, in the remainder of the 20 minute spell.  Aside from a fight or two the final period was an anticlimax as Sharks consolidated their position without much trouble.  It was a very impressive performance by the Sharks, both offensively and defensively, although it should be noted that LA were missing two star players.

A number of things struck, but didn’t necessarily surprise, me about the experience:

1. Aside from the obligatory fights, the discipline of the players was so impressive, with far fewer offisdes, icings and penalties called than we have been used to in the UK. 

2. The number of fans who were wearing either replica shirts or t-shirts, sweatshirts or jackets with Sharks colours, at least three quarters and far more than you would see even at an English football game.

3.  The noise and fanaticism was intense.

4.  The regular interruptions to hold competitions and provide prizes for the fans is something that UK sport could do well to follow, though the latter’s historic antipathy to stoppages in play will probably prevent that happening – either way we could learn a lot about looking after the fans from US sport.          

All in all, a great experience – but I still prefer baseball!  A 45 wait for the return tin can to San Francisco at 10.30pm was made bearable by the balmy conditions and high spirits of other passengers.  I should add that although the train was basic and the journey not particularly comfortable, both outbound and inbound services were on time leaving and arriving at their destination.

In view of the fact that it was midnight when we came out of the Caltrain station we hailed a cab back to the apartment.  The driver spent the majority of the journey on the phone to Nigeria in his native language, but turned at one point to apologise in perfectly modulated English for his rudeness!  Despite his distraction he did return us to the apartment in very quick time.


This will be an unusually short entry (hoorah I hear you cry), due in part to the fact that, in keeping with our plan to “live like locals” as much as we could whilst in San Francisco, we spent a relaxing Sunday afternoon just walking around Golden Gate Park in the warm sunshine, taking in the sights and sounds of the City at play.

Walkers, dogs, walkers with dogs,dogs with walkers,  joggers, dogs, joggers with dogs, dogs with joggers, cyclists, dogs, cyclists with dogs, dogs with cyclists, skateboarders, dogs, skateboarders with dogs, dogs with skateboarders, roller skaters, dogs, rollerskaters with dogs, dogs with rollerskaters, football games, soccer games, baseball games, kite flying, boating, rowing…………the list goes on of activities. 

The most extrordinary sight was the high intensity roller disco where roller skaters and bladers hurtled round a self-imposed rink to loud disco music.  Some of the moves were amazing and it was a wonder nobody crashed into each other.  And dogs, of course, got into the action too! 

We strolled around the open air art gallery, visited the steamy Conservatory of Flowers, and climbed to the top of Strawberry Hill on Stow Lake for tantalising glimpses of the City and Golden Gate Bridge.  We would normally visit the Japanese Tea Garden but it was extremely busy at the time, so we gave it a miss.  And besides, I’d just had another hot dog!

The lazy Sunday was completed by a bit of food shopping and dinner at the apartment, followed by America’s Next Great Restaurant and Celebrity Apprentice on TV (how will we keep up with those when we return home?).


With our City Pass booklet we started the day by visiting the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art (MOMA).  Neither of us are great fans of much of modern art, though we enjoyed some aspects.  I particularly liked the Exposed: Voyeurism, Surveillance, and the Camera since 1870 exhibition, and not because of the amount of nudity it contained.  There is no doubting the splendour of the building and the design of space throughout the museum.  We had a light lunch in Caffe Museo, asparagus soup for me and a fruit scone for Janet.

We wandered around Yerba Buena Gardens afterwards, taking in the Martin Luther King Jnr Memorial and waterfall and the excellent views it afforded of both MOMA and the Financial District.  The area was filled with thousands of comic book fans visiting San Francisco for the weekend for the 25th Wondercon comic book, science fiction and movie convention at the Moscone Centre South.  Many were dressed as their favourite characters and all carried shopping bags packed with merchandise.  San Francisco has more than its fair share of interesting looking characters but that number was magnified this weekend by aliens and superheroes stalking the streets.

As we were in the area we moved on to AT & T Park and the San Francisco Giants Dugout Store.   Given the proximity of the opening home stand it was very busy.  TV screens were transmitting the third game in the opening road trip of the season, and as we arrived Giants were 8-0 ahead in the 7th inning, a vast improvement on their first two sloppy one run defeats at the hands of the LA Dodgers.  By the time we left they had stretched their lead to 10-0 in the ninth and the atmosphere in the store was upbeat.

Although Janet and I could have spent thousands on replica shirts, jackets and other paraphernalia, I confined my purchase to a t-shirt, DVD and magazine.  We do, however, intend to return before we leave town on Friday, so the credit card should not rest easy just yet.

Walking back into town we had frappuccinos at Starbucks (yes I was in that much need of a “frozen concoction” on a warmer, brighter afternoon than had been forecast), surrounded by characters from Star Wars, Marvel and assorted Japanese franchises.   A final trip to soon to be closed Border’s bookstore in Union Square completed our afternoon.  Whilst not quite as pathetic looking as its counterpart in Santa Cruz, the top floor and cafe were closed and everything was at least 50% off.  Regular announcements advised that deals were available too on fixtures and fittings. 

The high – or low – spot of the day?  I ate a hot dog on Market Street, my first meat hot dog in over 30 years!  And it was good!  Does that now make me an American?

We had initially planned to go out for dinner again but mutual tiredness, my persistent cold and the undeniable pleasure of being able to wind down in our own place (which is why we rented an apartment in the first place), led us to decide to buy dinner from the supermarket, fresh catfish which we had with home made chips aka fries.


As we were due to return the hire car by 2.30pm we felt we should make best use of it by visiting some of the sights less easy to get to by public transport or on foot.  Firstly, we drove out to Ocean Beach and explored the delightful districts of Parkside and Sunset, before stopping at 16th and Moraga to walk up and down the beautiful marble stairway with outstanding views of the Pacific coastline.   We noticed that many of the animal designs in the marble contained people’s names, presumably by way of sponsorship, and set me to look at the possibility of having our names included on it.

Our next stop was Twin Peaks.  It had been the first place in San Francisco we had visited on a coach tour back in 1995 and, to be honest, I don’t think either of us had taken much note of it then, more interested in later delights such as Fisherman’s Wharf and cable car rides.  The absurdity of that attitude was exposed when we feasted our eyes on The City laid out before us on this warm, sunny morning.  What struck me in particular was just how near everything was, you could almost take it in the palm of your hand and stroke it.  

We prised ourselves reluctantly from Twin Peaks and headed down into the Castro and the Mission where we tried to find a parking space close to Dolores Park to relax and enjoy the famed views of the city from there.   But it proved futile, after all it was Friday lunchtime, the sun was beating down and half of San Francisco had got the same idea – never mind, we will do it before we leave.

A tortuous drive back through the Mission and along the Embarcadero meant that we handed back the car to Avis on Beach Street less than an hour before we were required to.  By this time we were hungry and in Fisherman’s Wharf where we had a mediocre lunch experience on the previous day.   However, we had enjoyed a nice meal at Lou’s at Pier 47 in the past so felt comfortable in sitting down at one of the outside tables there.  We were not disappointed as my salmon cakes and Janet’s red snapper were excellent.

With the car returned it was time to collect our City Pass booklets which I had purchased online before leaving the UK.  We walked up Mason and Columbus in the blistering sun to Washington Square where, still replete from lunch, we crashed out on the ground with a cold drink.  However, we soon sought sanctuary on a park bench, as my damp shorts testified that the heat of the past few days had still not drawn the dew left by the incessant rain beforehand from the grass.

Washington Square was understandably busy with bikini clad girls stretched out in the sun, Chinese elders gossiping under the shade of the trees, a single hippie playing catch with himself and office workers resting on the way home to make phone calls to arrange their evening activities.

Refreshed, we walked through the heart of Chinatown to Union Square, stopping only to check the closing time of the restaurant we were planning to eat at later, and for Janet to have her first fix of DW Shoes on Powell whilst I collected the City Pass booklets from the visitor information centre on Hallidie Plaza.  We then used our 7 day MUNI passport for the first time in returning to the apartment.

The highlight of the day, with the possible exception of Twin Peaks, was the journey back into the time in the evening on the no. 5 bus.  After the no-show on Monday evening, which necessitated the life threatening cab ride to the Warfield, at least the bus had the decency to turn up tonight, even if we had more than a ten minute wait in the increasing cold.

The journey was uneventful until Fillmore when a middle aged woman with a motorised wheelchair got on.  The step onto the bus was lowered by the driver to allow her to enter.  The bus was very busy with standing room only at this point but the woman had to manoeuvre herself into the wheelchair user space a third of the way along the bus.  The next five minutes entailed those sitting at the front of the bus having to bring their feet up onto their seats to enable her to get past, when she then engineered a 27 point turn into her appointed position.  It was clear from when she told the driver where she wanted to get off that the same pantomine would be required sooner rather than later.

However, it got worse.  At the next stop a young girl got on with a child in a buggy, which would inevitably complicate matters a little.  But when TWO more girls got on with buggies at the very next stop, this was going to be very interesting.  Once we had reached Larkin and the female wheelchair user wanted to get off it looked an impossibility – until the three girls with buggies, noticing that seats had been vacated, leapt back into the seats, in an almost orchestrated manoeuvre,  with the buggies, complete with babies, in their arms, allowing the wheelchair to get through, and universal applause from the front of the bus.  In our experience there are very few MUNI journeys, especially at night, that cannot provide some such adventure.

We had decided to revisit our favourite Chinatown restaurant, the Great Eastern on Grant and Jackson, and despite the delay caused by the bus journey, we were found a table immediately.  Although the R & G Lounge that we had eaten at in 2008 was possibly the smartest Chinatown restaurant we have eaten at, the Great Eastern has now given us three consistently good meals and is thoroughly recommended – my scallops with straw mushrooms and sugar snap peas, along with shrimp fried rice, was filling and delicious.

And I can proudly announce that I completed my very first chinese meal without resorting once to a spoon or fork, even to clear the final scraps off my plate.  It was chopsticks all the way – and it was still warm when I had finished! 

A couple of large straight Jack Daniel’s for me and two gin and tonics for Janet at Vesuvio’s in Columbus and Jack Kerouac Boulevard completed our evening, apart from a relatively smooth if painfully slow MUNI bus home.


In the past decade Janet has invariably spent her birthday in San Francisco, and she has tried to do something fun and different, for example the Fire Engine Tour and Ride the Ducks in recent years.  In keeping with the touristy nature of such adventures she decided today that she wanted to ride one of the open top buses, something we had never done in our previous seven trips.

We walked to Union Square where we waited for the City Sightseeing bus which offered an “all loops” package, including Sausalito and Muir Woods as well as the obvious city sights,  for $49.99 for 48 hours  If that sounds expensive the ticket collector immediately, and unsolicited, said he would extend our ticket to four days at no extra cost.  Whilst we weren’t planning spending the weekend sitting on a bus, listening to the same patter, we weren’t going to turn such an offer down.

We boarded the second bus (the first had no available seats upstairs) which took us first through the Tenderloin to the Civic Center, returning to Union Square before travelling through Chinatown and North Beach to Fisherman’s Wharf.  Here we boarded another bus across the Golden Gate Bridge to Sausalito and back again.  It was good to get a different perspective on a number of the attractions, and the weather was stunning, although there was only minimal opportunity to take the photos you might wish to take, other than from the vista point on the far side of the Golden Gate Bridge.

The tour guides, the second of which was also the driver, were knowledgable and informative, although I do wonder whether some of the anecdotes are designed more to the need to titillate the tourist than authenticity.  It was not easy either to hear what the first was seeing due to the group of young Latino girls behind us who persisted in talking over him and taking photos of each other with no discernible background picture.

By the time we disembarked the second bus at Fisherman’s Wharf we were ravenous.  Now I know that many people, especially locals, turn their noses up at eating there, but we have had good meals at Neptune’s Palace, The Franciscan and McCormick and Kuleto’s in the past.  On this occasion, I think our hunger had overrode our judgement because we succumbed to the hard sell outside Alioto’s Waterside Cafe.   The service and wine were fine but the food was bland and uninspiring.  We had coffee at the Boudin Bakery and Cafe on the Wharf  before wandering  around for a while.

As we were keen to catch the opening game of the new baseball season between the Los Angeles Dodgers and the reigning World Champions, the San Francisco Giants, we hailed a cab to take us back to the apartment.  I had asked the driver to get us back in time for the first pitch, and despite the fact that we caught every red light, he obliged.  However, it was a disappointing game with the Giants playing very sloppy defense, and despite Tim Lincecum‘s competent pitching and Pat Burrell‘s ninth innings solo homer, losing 2-1 to their arch rivals.  Ah well, it’s only the first game and there are 160 still to go.  

After the game had finished Janet and I grappled with the seemingly complicated system for putting the garbage out, ensuring that recyclables were put in the right bins (just like being at home, except that in San Francisco there are garbage police who will enforce the policy)!  The combined stress of the baseball game and the trash wars made it necessary for me to visit the Lucky supermarket to buy more wine.  For the second night running we spent the last couple of hours of the day watching re-runs of the British TV show, Come Dine With Me.


Having spent the previous day drivin’ south on Highway 1 to Santa Cruz, we decided to take advantage of the remaining time with the hire car to  head in the opposite direction to visit some of the towns in Marin County.  Initially, we had intended to travel as far as Bodega Bay, the location used for one of Alfred Hitchcock‘s most chilling films, The Birds, but another late start (we are on vacation after all) caused us to modify our plans by mid afternoon. 

It wasn’t helped by the fact that my sore throat and cough had developed into a full blown cold, occasioning a consultation with the pharmacist at the nearby Lucky supermarket before we left.  So, having handed over half of our remaining spending money for the pills and syrup, we set off over the Golden Gate Bridge on a clear, sunny morning that was to produce record temperature by mid afternoon.

Our first stop was in Mill Valley for coffee.  As I was feeding the parkaing meter I was asked by a young mother if I knew where The Depot was.  I explained that I was a new kid in the block too, thinking that this delightful, woodland scene could hardly be the locatoin for a branch of The Home Depot.  Five minutes later Janet and I were sitting outside the Depot Cafe, sipping coffees and scrutinising the Marin County map I had just bought in the bookstore linked to the cafe.  The sight of the menu, and the presentation of the food being delivered to other customers, made me regret having had such a heavy breakfast.    

Mill Valley, one of the wealthiest communities in the United States in a lovely, wooded setting, struck us as affluent and civilised.  Moreover, the people were very friendly, notably the proprietor of the  jewelry store who individually gift wrapped the watch, earrings and bracelets I had bought Janet for her birthday tomorrow.

As we drove around Marin County the artists’ and spiritualist colonies for which it was renowned were evident respectively in galleries and establishments like the Vedanta Center and the Spirit Rock Meditation Center.

We had decided to take another drive today not least because we wanted to ensure that we ran the gas down before returning it to Avis.  However, as we drove towards Stinson Beach we realised that if we went much further today we would need to buy more gas.  We did not want to run out on an isolated part of the road.  Fortunately, we found a gas station at Point Reyes Station, a raggedy western style town, where we also had a picnic lunch.  With Bodega Bay still the best part of an hour away we decided to head for Sausalito via Fairfax and San Rafael.

As it transpired, we drove through Fairfax, an attractive town, and its neighbour, San Anselmo, in preference for spending the remaining hour of the shops opening in San Rafael.  However, no sooner had we entered the town then we had passed through it!  Perhaps the downtown area was off the main road.  We considered returning to Fairfax but decided to push on to Sausalito.

We had coffee in the Bridgeway Cafe in Sausalito and sat “on the dock of the bay” marvelling at the crystal clear and deceptively close view of The City across the bay. 

Now, you are never far from an ageing hippie in the Bay Area, and this was no exception as we were entertained by a character who did not look dissimilar from David Crosby (long golden hair, receding hairline, bushy moustache, tassled brown suede jacket) whom we had only seen a couple of nights before.  But that is where the similarity ended.  Whilst he had a guitar strapped across his chest, he only used it a mute prop to his rendition of “standing on the corner watching all the girls go by” (only readers of a certain age will remember this – hardly a west coast hippie anthem).  When he wasn’t “singing” he was engaged in loud and harmless conversation with whomsoever would accidentally catch his eye.  Amongst his rapid fire tips on surviving in today’s world was “if you sit somewhere long enough someone will bring you food”.  Well, it worked for him as a middle aged woman delivered shepherd’s pie to him and his dog (there’s always a dog).

We could have avoided him on the return to our car but that would have required an unnecessary  minor detour.  Inevitably, as we passed by he said “where you guys from, it can’t be San Francisco with a t-shirt like that”, and as if to answer his own question he ventured “Australian” of course.  He then offered his services as a tour guide if we wanted someone to show us around.  He didn’t want paying – all we would need to do was supply a car and buy him dinner.  He would even take a “day off “(from sitting on a bench rapping to every passer by) to help us out.      

After crossing over the Golden Gate Bridge (at a toll charge of $6) we stopped by the Exploratorium and the majestic Palace of Fine Arts, where we spent a relaxing twilight hour watching the world winding down, including joggers, many with dogs trotting alongside them, children in their toy cars and swans elegantly gliding around the lagoon.   We then retired to the apartment for dinner (seafood lasagne).


I blame those frisky young whippersnappers, David Crosby and Graham Nash, but neither Janet nor I were ready to rock too early today after the excesses of the previous evening.  Eventually, we set off on the 74 mile drive to Santa Cruz, joining the Skyline Boulevard at the top of Fulton at Ocean Beach.

Despite the clear blue sky and slowly warming sun, waves crashed onto the beach in swift succession as we passed the Sunset district with its attractive multi-coloured houses that reminded me of Burano in the Venetian lagoon, San Francisco Zoo and Fort Funston as we hit Highway 1.

As we drove through Pacifica, Half Moon Bay and Pescadaero State Beach, increasing numbers of surfers could be seen preparing their boards, ironically to ride waves significantly less turbulent than those we had left back at Ocean Beach.  The Cabrillo Highway, which is the acknowledged name of this stretch of Highway 1, is a lovely road with wonderful shoreline vistas, but it is not conducive to speed, particularly if you get stuck behind a slow truck or Winnebago or, as we did, spend lengthy waits at a number of roadworks  created by the Devil’s Slide Tunnels Project.  This, combined with the warm sunshine, had a distinctly somnolent effect on both driver and passenger.

The most poignant sights on the journey were the signs denoting the “Tsunami Evacuation Route”, a reminder of the damage that had been caused to this part of the coast in the aftermath of the recent Japanese earthquake.

As we entered the Santa Cruz city limit lunch was foremost in our minds, so we headed straight for the famous Boardwalk  –  mistake!  The unseasonable weather had fooled us into thinking that the world renowned seaside complex would be throbbing with action, but, of course, it was still off season.  A total of two gift shops, one amusement arcade and a couple of fast food outlets were the only establishments open to the public, and many of the rides were subject to undergoing maintenance work.  The beach. like many others in the immediate area, contained a lot of wooden debris, further evidence of the recent high waters.

We decided, therefore, to head for downtown Santa Cruz.  In fact, we spent nearly four hours there, enjoying the friendly, laid-back atmosphere pervading the clean, tree-lined main street that contained some fine shops, including an outstanding independent bookstore.  Street musicians and artists were prevalent, as was the occasional beggar – even they were “smarter than the average” San Franciscan panhandler.  We had lunch at the Chocolate cafe – warm chicken sandwich with pesto, mozzarella and peppers for me and sesame chicken salad for Janet.  The food was  delicious and service was prompt and pleasant.  Moreover, the seats outside were a real suntrap.

My San Francisco Giants / Gratefiul Dead t-shirt, only purchased in Haight-Ashbury on Sunday,  excited a great deal of admiration in this bastion of the counterculture, including several “nice shirt”  comments and a couple of slightly dopey smiles in my direction.  I managed to buy another Dead t-shirt here, with the American Beauty logo, as well as the one CD that I had been coveting for some time, entitled Crimson, White and Indigo, a three CD plus DVD package of a concert in Philadelphia in 1989.  With tax I paid $42 instead of the near $70 being quoted even on Amazon in the UK.  The cashier, who was sporting a Dead t-shirt, was thrilled that I had bought it, saying that he had been waiting for someone to buy it as it was ” awesome”.  A conversation about the Dead’s visits to the UK ensued.

The most disheartening part of the trip was the imminent demise of Border’s Books, yet another branch in the chain set to close.  It was pitiful to witness the first floor (the second was completely closed) with its vasy empty spaces and pleas for customers to not only buy its products but also the fixtures and fittings.  There was one silver lining however – it was possible to stock up for your winter fuel with a bulk purchase of Sarah Palin‘s America At Heart book at a 60% discount.

We headed back north as late afternoon clouds took over momentary custody of the skies.  Surfers were more evident than they had been this morning.  We decided to stop for a drink at Half Moon Bay, but, given that it was turned 6pm by the time we got there, it too was virtually closed.  However, we did manage a coffee at the friendly San Benito House saloon and restaurant.   

The final leg of our journey home was a little more interesting than we had expected or planned.  Thinking we would rejoin the coast road back to Ocean Beach we found ourselves hurtling along Highway 1 in the direction of the Golden Gate Bridge.  Resolving to avoid that embarassing detour I decided that we should try a even more embarassing detour by turning right off the road.  Darkness had descended which added to the sense of being lost and panic stricken, although I was convinced (sic) that we would eventually veer back towards the city.  My confidence was sorely tested as we passed unfamiliar names like Sloat and Portola, but once we had brushed Twin Peaks on our left, it started to return.  As we turned down the hill the view of the City was a new and astonishing one, which made the anxiety of the past ten minutes almost bearable.   

The sight of the enormous rainbow flag at Harvey Milk Plaza on Castro Street brought mutual relief, and we cut off Market and returned to the apartment to gratefully consume the pizzas we had bought at Half Moon Bay.


I’m going to break with tradition by starting with an account of the evening.  We witnessed an astonishing show by David Crosby and Graham Nash at the legendary Warfield Theater on Market Street.   My already sore throat took a fearful battering at 11pm belting out the encore numbers Teach You Children and Chicago from their Crosby, Still, Nash and Young (CSNY) days. 

How those guys, who are ten years older than me, must feel this morning after some serious hard rocking for almost three hours does not bear thinking about.  It helps to have a hot band, of course, which included not only Crosby’s multi-talented son but also the former bass player for Jackson Browne and erstwhile lead guitarist for Steely Dan.

The two sets encompassed the whole career of both performers, getting off to a steaming start with The Byrds’ Eight Miles High, introduced by Nash as “this one’s for San Francisco” – hmm, I wonder why!  This was followed by Long Time Gone and Marrakesh Express.  Given his serious health problems over the years Crosby’s voice is still a remarkably powerful and expressive one, most evident on Almost Cut My Hair, Camera and Wooden Ships.  Nash led on a number of other songs that he had penned such as I Used to be a King and Military Madness and the singalong Our House.  Their harmonies on Guinevere and more recent songs such as Don’t Dig Here and Lay Me Down were as good as ever.

We could not have had better seats – although we were in the back row in the stalls we were raised above everyone else so had an uninterrupted view of the stage.  Apart from the bovine perfume of the mens’ restroom (at least I think it was the smell of the cow), the Warfield is an incredibly evocative venue.  There are numerous bars and cheap food is available  (Janet and I had a large plate of nachos with sour cream, cheese and guacamole for just $6, although between us we succeeded in spraying my brand new trousers at least twice with the over-full paper plate it was precariously balanced on.

The only drawback was the two middle aged women, both recently made single (I can hardly think why) sat next to us who persisted in a-whoopin’ and a-hollerin’ throughout the show as if they were groupies from the early seventies when Crosby and Nash first performed together.  The one next to Janet kept leaning across her to grab my arm as if there was some secret code between us about certain songs.  When I asked her if she knew for whom Graham Nash had written I Used to be a King about, she nodded at me maniacally several times before reverting to a single sad shake of her head to denote she really had no idea (it was Joni Mitchell by the way).

A great concert in a historic, characterful venue but we nearly didn’t make it.  I had bought the tickets through Ticketmaster on the internet which meant we had to collect them at the box office before the show started.  We left our apartment at 6.15pm in the expectation that we would get to the theater by 7.00pm.  Twenty five  minutes later we were still waiting for the bus whilst five had gone in the other direction.  We resolved, therefore, to hail the first available cab that passed.

On getting into the cab I asked for the Warfield Theater.  The taxi driver, who was admittedly very pleasant, asked if there was an event there tonight and what time we needed to be there.  After I had explained this he suddenly asked ” Warfield – is that on Van Ness or Sutter”?  “Market” I replied.  If this were not bad enough he then threw us around in the back of the cab as he mounted the kerb on a right turn, and then spent the remainder of the journey sneezing violently, further causing the cab to lurch in every direction.  Although there was an argument that HE should have paid US for the fare I was so relieved to have arrived at the Warfield alive that I tipped him even better than I usually do.

In the morning we had driven over the Bay Bridge to the former naval base at Treasure Island.  We had only been there once before on our first visit in 1995 and that was at night to take photos of the stunning view back towards the city and the bridge.  To be frank, whilst we wandered around for an hour or so, we didn’t find much of interest (we did not visit the winery that has been established there).  It did, however, give us the opportunity to see the new east span of the bridge close up.

One restaurant that we had been planning to visit in San Francisco but never managed it is Green’s at Fort Mason, one of the most celebrated vegetarian eateries in the U.S.  It is ironic that we should finally visit it after we have, following more than twenty years as vegetarians, recently resolved to eat seafood and chicken.  Unfortunately, we picked the day when they were not serving lunch.  However, the takeaway (“to go”) counter was open, and we were allowed to sit in the restaurant to eat our sandwiches and salads, affording us fantastic views across the Marina to the Golden Gate Bridge.

Prior to returning to “our house” to prepare for our evening out we strolled along the Marina, even on a Monday afternoon a hive of activity with joggers, cyclists (many of whom were en route to “biking the bridge”) and assorted ball games, the most intriguing of which was what appeared to be a mini Spring Training baseball camp for teenage boys, involving separate hitting, catching and pitching practice sessions. 

We took the plunge (but only after the seemingly perilous climb!) of driving on Fillmore as a short cut back to the apartment.  After a glass of wine at a local cafe on Baker and Fulton we began our preparations for our eventful evening.

Which brings us back to where we began.


We had planned to take the advice of the Small Faces today and spend a “lazy Sunday afternoon” in the neighbourhood.  The only thing we really had to do was some food shopping for the next few days.  Otherwise, we would take it easy, have a traditional English roast dinner in the apartment and then settle down for the latest instalment of Celebrity Apprentice on NBC later in the evening.  And, of course, there was the blog to write.

A slow morning began with my following my soccer team, Gillingham, on live text commentary on the internet as they attempted to enhance their promotion aspirations at Cheltenham.  The 3pm kick off time back home meant that, with the additional hour from last night’s change to British Summer Time, that we were now 8 hours behind.  Last night’s excesses prevented me from making the start at 7am, but I was ready an hour later to follow the second half (in bed with the laptop!).  Gillingham had gone a goal down in the third minute, and that remained the likely outcome until four minutes before the end when they equalised.  Even more remarkably, they scored again in the very last minute to secure a 2-1 win, a great start to the day.

After a leisurely breakfast in the apartment we wandered down to Grove and Divisadero to look at the Farmer’s Market.  As we were planning to stay out for some time, doing our shopping at the Lucky supermarket on our way back to the house, we decided not to purchase anything at this stage.

I thought I had struck lucky when, as we sauntered along Divisadero to the intersection with Haight, a gorgeous young woman (ok, a sixty something harridan) rushed up to me to say how lovely my red hair was (yes, I do have  some red colour in the naturally dark brown)!  Taken aback by the complement I should have realised that this was the opening gambit to ask for money (our first beggar of the day).  I advised her – mistakenly – that we hadn’t any cash at present and were actually on our way to an ATM, at which she reeled off the locations of all those in the immediate vicinity!  Fortunately, she found someone more obliging and we managed to lose her by Page.  

Turning up Haight we walked through Buena Vista Park with its fine views of the city  and back onto the main street in the area.  I have been disappointed with Haight-Ashbury on our last few visits, particularly those shops, for example Positively Haight Street and Haight-Ashbury T-Shirts, which focused primarily on retro sixties hippie culture.  They seemed to have moved away from that era somewhat, providing more of a balance between freak and mainstream clothing and accessories.  Indeed, today I felt that they had undergone a makeover even since this time last year  – perhaps they were just cleaner and tidier now, which, in a sense, is out of keeping with the original design.

That aside, what struck me today was how many shops, including new ones, were open, and seemingly thriving. Since the onset of the recession it has been difficult to walk down any street in any town or city in either the UK or US without seeing a significant number of boarded up shops.  This was frankly surprisngly not the case today on Haight Street, where I counted only two closed retail outletsYes, many had sales and there were the customary groups of residual “heads” hanging out on the sidewalks. It may have been the early spring sunshine and the fact that it was Sunday, but there seemed to be a renewed energy and optimism that I hadn’t witnessed in recent years and which was, especially, for this ageing hippie, very heartening.

The fact that Janet and I spent longer – around three hours – on the street today than we have for many years seemed to reinforce this feeling.  I had seen some baseball fans during the 2010 postseason wearing Giants t-shirts with the Grateful Dead “steal your face” logo on, so was pleased to pick up one today.  I managed also, seven years after first having the band recommended to me by a photographer on the slopes of Heavenly ski resort, to purchase a couple of live albums by String Cheese Incident at Ameoba Records. 

Lunch was taken at the Blue Front Cafe, a middle eastern eatery serving up wholesome and tasty wraps, bagels etc. and strong coffee, and the warm afternoon sunshine later persuaded us to succumb to the ultimate modern day Haight-Ashbury tourist activity of indulging in a Ben and Jerry’s ice cream at the famous street intersection.  I also made a fellow Englishman’s day by taking a photograph with his own camera of him posing outside 710 Ashbury, the fabled early home of the Grateful Dead.

Our extended and enjoyable sojourn in the Haight delayed our planned shopping expedition to the Lucky supermarket just 100 yards from our apartment.  After several sun-kissed hours wallowing in sixties West Coast nostalgia, we turned our San Francisco home into an English enclave by having our customary Sunday dinner of roast chicken, roast potatoes, carrots, peas, chicken stuffing, apple sauce and chicken gravy, washed down, of course, with a Californian sauvignon blanc.

The lazy Sunday theme was restored with a night spent watching America’s Next Great Restaurant (I don’t think so!) and Celebrity Apprentice (Dionne Warwick is still a “heartbreaker”!) on TV.

All in all, a lovely San Francisco Sunday with an English twist.