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Posts Tagged ‘San Francisco’

Our Home from Home in San Francisco

Posted in Photo Gallery, tagged , , , on Apr 27, 2011| Leave a Comment »


Those of you who had the stamina and will to follow the daily diary of our recent vacation in Lake Tahoe, Las Vegas and San Francisco will recall that we stayed in an apartment in the North of Panhandle (NoPA) in the latter for two weeks.  I made reference on numerous occasions to the comfort and quality of the apartment, and the following slideshow provides a visual accompaniment to that narrative.  If you should be so inspired by it as to enquire about its availability for yourself in the future, you can find the link on the right hand side of the page.  

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Western Diary Day 22: Two Steps to Heaven

Posted in Personal, Travel Diary, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on Apr 8, 2011| Leave a Comment »


We were greeted this morning by yet another brilliant, clear blue sky, although the temperature was significantly lower than it had been for several days.  MUNI for once served us well as we boarded a no.5 bus to the cable car turnaround at Powell and Market.  Riding a San Francisco cable car, preferably standing in the lead position at the front, is one of my favourite activities, yet this was the first time on this trip that we had boarded one.

The combination of a long line, people pushing in and my desire to nab that lead position meant that we had to wait until the sixth car, a Powell and Mason, before we could leave downtown.  Once we disembarked we headed for the Hollywood Cafe on Taylor and North Point for breakfast.  I would thoroughly recommend this establishment – the service was outstanding and my Eggs Benedict with smoked salmon and shrimp was excellent.

Such a meal may not in retrospect have been the best thing to have done immediately prior to tackling the Greenwich Steps up to Coit Tower, but we managed it, if rather slowly.  On such a crystal clear day the views were stunning, so much better than they had been nine years previously when we had last visited the landmark.  Following a viewing of the fabulous artisanal murals we took the elevator up to the viewing tower – how does that attendant cope with riding that 7′ by 4′ by 3′ (approximately) tin box all day?  It is worth the trip but not if you suffer from claustrophobia.

Having negotiated the Greenwich Steps on the way up to Coit Tower, it was only right to take the even lovelier Filbert Steps down in the heart of Telegraph Hill.  We failed to spot or hear the wild parrots (though we did see them on the following day on Lombard Street), but the smells and sights of the flower laden gardens was delightful.

Landing back on earth on Sansome we walked along the street until we reached the Transamerica Pyramid where we entered the mini-Muir Woods that is the Redwood Park.  This is a nice spot to rest your weary legs after traipsing the unforgiving streets of the Financial District, although the shade of the trees did render the grove rather dark and chilly.

After resting briefly we walked onto Market where we walked to, firstly the Embarcadero Center and then the Ferry Building.  As we were thirsty at this point we dived into the Ferry Building Wine Bar, fortunately part way through the middle of the first innings of the San Diego Padres versus San Francisco Giants baseball game which was being shown on the TV screens.

We, or rather I, needed no invitation to find seats with a full on view of the game that Giants were already winning 3-0 after a Buster Posey two run homer.  As we worked our way through a carafe each of Sonoma chardonnay and Anderson Valley rose, Tim Lincecum led the Padres a merry dance, clocking 13 strikeouts in an eventual 8-4 victory for the Giants.  No surprise that, but being engaged in conversation at our table by the very winemaker, Eric Sussman, whose wine we were drinking at the time, was an unexpected and interesting experience.

Prising ourselves eventually from the wine bar we caught the F Streetcar from Ferry Plaza back to Fisherman’s Wharf where we waited interminably for a cable car from Hyde Street back to Powell.  Fortunately, the no. 21 bus was waiting for us at Market to transport us back to the apartment.  Initially, we had planned to eat out, but our weary legs won the argument and it was pizza at home instead.

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Western Diary Day 19: Perfect Sunday Afternoon

Posted in Personal, Travel Diary, tagged , , , , , , on Apr 5, 2011| Leave a Comment »


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?).

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Western Diary Day 18: Culture Vulture Eats a Hot Dog

Posted in Personal, Travel Diary, tagged , , , , , , , , on Apr 4, 2011| Leave a Comment »


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.

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Western Diary Day 14: Cruisin’ down to Santa Cruz

Posted in Personal, Travel Diary, tagged , , , , , on Mar 31, 2011| 1 Comment »


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.

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Western Diary Day 13: Our House is a Very, Very, Very Fine House

Posted in Personal, Travel Diary, tagged , , , , , , on Mar 30, 2011| Leave a Comment »


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.

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Western Diary Day 12: Sunny Sunday Strolling in The Haight

Posted in Personal, Travel Diary, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on Mar 29, 2011| 1 Comment »


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 outlets.  Yes, 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.

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Western Diary Day 11: Dogs, Crab, Hats and Beats

Posted in Personal, Travel Diary, tagged , , , , , , , , , , on Mar 28, 2011| 5 Comments »


Our first full day in San Francisco – and it was a good one.  After a comfortable night’s sleep (another plus point for the apartment) we woke to steady rain that had left large pools at the bottom of the wooden steps leading down from the kitchen to the back garden.  The forecast was for it to clear later in the morning to leave a cloudy but dry afternoon and evening.

Tradition dictates that our first morning be spent at the Cliff House at Ocean Beach for brunch.  This was just a 10-15 minute drive straight along Fulton until we reached the Pacific Ocean.  For the majority of the journey we passed an especially verdant Golden Gate Park on our left, whilst from the passenger side of the car, we caught occasional and tantalising glimpses of the towers of the glorious Golden Gate Bridge looming over the equally healthy trees of the Presidio.

We parked a few hundred yards short of the Cliff House to enable us to take in the bracing appetite enhancing air for a few minutes before we entered the bistro.  The ocean presented what was, for us, an unprecedentedly turbulent picture with a swift succession of high rolling waves chasing away anyone brave or foolhardy enough to venture too close to it.

The scene was a busy one – joggers passing in either direction and at varying speeds,  people , like us, strolling contentedly in a wind induced state of dishevelment – but most of all, dogs everywhere enjoying the freedom and excitement of exploring the endless expanse of beach.  We must have seen twenty species, from caped miniature poodles and chihuahuas and striking, enigmatic huskies to imposing rottweilers.  We felt as if we were committing an act of animal cruelty by not having one of our own to exercise.  Momentarily, I contemplated hiring one for the week, because, after all, this is San Francisco and I’m sure it is possible.  I don’t think, however, pets are allowed in the apartment – ah well! (And just as I typed this I’ve spotted a very cute dog in the back garden – think it belongs to upstairs!).

We had a twenty minute wait for our table, giving us the opportunity to check on coming events (Wednesday prix fixe menu and jazz evenings) and look in the gift shop.  We both ordered, tradition again, Eggs San Francisco (two poached eggs and crab on toasted sourdough bread with roasted potatoes and fruit) – delicious.  Feeling replete we took another longer walk in the burgeoning sunshine along the beach towards the south, exploring the bonfire pits on the way.  Crossing the Great Highway for the return to our car, we called in at the Beach Chalet to look at the fabulous murals depicting everyday scenes of San Francisco history.

We abandoned our planned food shopping trip as we needed time to get ready for the evening (and for me to finish my blog).  The mild, partly cloudy late afternoon weather encouraged us to take the long walk from our North of the Panhandle (NOPA) hangout to Club Fugazi in North Beach for the early evening performance of Beach Blanket Babylon.  The near hour and a half  journey took in some of the less salubrious parts of the city (Fillmore and Civic Center) before turning off Market Street to snake through Grant in the heart of Chinatown. 

Inevitably and sadly, there were no shortage of vagrants in the Civic Center vicinity, though we witnessed no intimidating panhandling.  I did purchase a copy of Street Sheet from a man who bore an uncanny resemblance to the queen in Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs when she dresses as a witch and tempts Snow White with a poisoned apple.  He even had the hunch back and hood.  But he was very friendly and  appreciative of my $2 donation. 

For the unitiated, the Street Sheet is a magazine that has been published by the Coalition on Homelessness since 1989, and is designed to provide information and support programmes for homeless people.  The philosophy is not dissimilar from that of The Big Issue in the UK, whereby it enables its extremely poor vendors the opportunity to earn money for food, shelter and other necessities.

We joined an already lengthy line outside Club Fugazi around 50 minutes before showtime.  I collected our tickets from the box office and took my place in the line.  We were surrounded by around a dozen boisterous and slightly drunk ladies of a certain age taking in the show as part of a bachelorette party.  Whilst we didn’t begrudge them their fun we did hope that their seats were in a different part of the auditorium.  Our prayers were answered as they lurched off to the area close to the stage on the ground floor whilst we were escorted to our seats in the center balcony – having been five times now this is our preferred area to watch the show.  Arming ourselves with a bottle of Woodbridge White Zinfandel and a large packet of pretzels we were ready to cheer Snow White on her worldwide search for a prince.

Once again, Beach Blanket Babylon delivered.  Although we had only been this time last year there was still a lot of new content along with the familiar old staples.  The highlight for me was when San Francisco Giants baseball stars Buster Posey, Tim Lincecum and Brian Wilson (no, not the real ones) burst onto the stage holding the World Series trophy and singing We Are the Champions. The Queen‘s appalled putdown of the upcoming wedding of Prince William and Kate Middleton was hilarious and a typical Beach Blanket Babylon satirical slant on a subject that is all too often treated too reverently.

We had decided that we would try the North Beach Restaurant for dinner for the first time, provided we could get in (we hadn’t booked).  The restaurant looked very busy, but on presenting ourselves at the front desk, we were whisked to the only free table, for two, adjacent to the kitchen.  That may not sound the most appealing location but Janet found it fascinating, catching regular momentary glimpses of the frenzied behind the scenes action as the front of house staff went swiftly went about their work.

But what of the food and service?  This was traditional Italian fine dining at its best.  My linguine with porcini mushrooms and scallops was outstanding, as was Janet’s seafood risotto – both surpassing the excellent meals we had enjoyed at the Riva Grill in South Lake Tahoe.  And our waiter was suave, attentive and witty.  We would thoroughly recommend this establishment and certainly intend to dine there again.

I had wanted to visit The Beat Museum on Broadway for some time, so as the night was still young (10pm), we called in.  Although the museum itself had already closed for the day, we spent some time perusing the bookshelves and other fascinating memorabilia, and I bought a couple of books I had not seen before, one the 700 page Hippie Dictionary –  A Cultural Encyclopedia of the 1960s and 1970s by John Bassett McCleary and The Beats – A Graphic History.  On leaving we strolled around the fleshpots and nightclubs of Broadway before fleeing back into civilisation at Vesuvio’s bar on Jack Kerouac Boulevard.   Again, we were fortunate in claiming what must have been the only two seats available, at the bar.  After a couple of drinks we walked down Montgomery through the Financial District before boarding a number 5 MUNI bus at Market to transport us back to the apartment.     

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Western Diary Day 10: Retrieving my Heart

Posted in Personal, Travel Diary, tagged , , on Mar 26, 2011| Leave a Comment »


For the second day running I feel I need to preface my account of the day with a statement.  A number of people have expressed sympathy and regret about the disappointing nature of both the Tahoe, and particularly Vegas, legs of our trip.  I am grateful for that, but they really should not worry.  I hope that by the tone of my reports, they detect a certain measure of irony and gallows humour, and, after all, this blog would have been very boring if everything went smoothly wouldn’t it? And, on occasions, I have exaggerated a little for dramatic effect, which I think is defensible.

As my “fellow Californians” would say – it’s all good.

We met Janet’s parents for breakfast in the hotel before bidding them adieu and heading off to McCarran Airport for our 1.05 Virgin America flight to San Francisco.

After checking in at around 11.30am, and paying $25 each for our two large cases, we proceeded to security (Janet had to endure the screening booth whilst I breezed through the traditional barrier!) to the gate.  There were a handful of delays, though all – bar one – did quote an estimated time.  Yes, the one exception was ours, “possible weather delay”, later described by the captain as “one small cloud in the Bay Area”.  It was rather like waiting for a Southeastern train back home –  no information whatsoever until an announcement to say we were boarding.  Anyway, we left exactly an hour late, around a quarter of which we recouped on the journey.  

Although, as regulars on Virgin Atlantic, we were disappointed with the pre-flight service of its American cousin, the in-flight service was better than that we had experienced with Southwest (though there was not a lot wrong with that) between Reno Tahoe and Vegas.  The flight was a little more relaxed with seating that was more comfortable.  Furthermore, there was a decent,mini version of the Virgin in-flight  entertainment system. 

A day couldn’t pass at present, howver, without some minoir catastrophe befalling one of us.  On arriving at SFO we were directed to bagage claim number 9 which appeared to be nothing more than a locked cupboard.  After around a quarter of an hour a Virgin representative breathlessly rushed onto the scene, profusely apologising for the delay, and opening the cupboard to reveal a small baggage claim area.  In the excitement, and seeing our bags about to escape my grasp and begin yet another lap of the carousel, I lunged for them only to slam my shin against a solid metal block sticking out of the conveyor belt.  Whilst it was very painful at the time, and exposed a bloody gash, I thought no more of it until I was changing my trousers at the apartment a couple of hours later, when I discovered that it was not only badly bruised but had blown up to the size of an adam’s apple.  Fortunately, as I write this, virtually 24 hours later, antiseptic cream, plasters and rest have reduced the swelling dramatically, and I experience only mild discomfort rather than any pain.

I am trying to keep my rants to a minimum today, but collecting the hire car we had booked and already paid for was the usual battle to hold on to our money against a concerted attack to prise it from us.  Every time we travel to Tahoe we are urged to upgrade to a four wheel drive because an alleged storm is on its way, even when the forecast, in the past, has been for fine weather.  Today, we were pressed to upgrade the compact car, despite explaining that we had purposely booked a small vehicle because the garage space at the apartment could accommodate nothing bigger.  Equally, it was suggested that we buy personal items and passenger insurances, despite the fact we had already had them.

We found the apartment easily enough at 5.30pm and had no difficulties gaining entry and parking the car.  We had expected, from both the written details and photographs, a spacious and fully equipped home, but it immediately surpassed even those expectations.  I will write much more in subsequent days about its features and facilities, but surpass to say that we are already thrilled.  By the time we had gone to bed I had carried out our first shopping expedition to the local Lucky supermarket, which I was also pleasantly surprised by, completed the previous day’s blog on the PC supplied by the owners and “cooked” our dinner of lobster ravioli with roasted garlic sauce (plus two bottles of wine, of course).  Janet had done all the washing that had acccumulated in Tahoe and Vegas (we could be clean once again!), and we had watched three episodes of Celebrity Apprentice on the 40 inch digital TV.  

The rants are / may / should (delete as applicacble) be over – San Francisco has opened up its Golden Gate and returned our hearts!  And after a wet weekend, the sunshine is going to arrive with a vengeance!

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Western Diary Day 2: From Bay to Lake

Posted in Personal, Travel Diary, tagged , , , , , , , , on Mar 19, 2011| Leave a Comment »


The first morning of our vacation maintained the traditional approach with a walk to the Eagle Cafe on Pier 39 for breakfast.  Two Eggs Benedict with fried potatoes, scallions, peppers, melon and orange slices, accompanied by orange juice and unlimited water and coffee, set us up for the impending trip to South Lake Tahoe.

We did not leave the city without an alarming revelation.  Having lamented the demise of the Border’s bookstore in Union Square only a few weeks before on this blog, I was horrified that the Fisherman’s Wharf Barnes and Noble bookstore had also gone since our last trip, soon to be replaced by an extension of the adjacent Costplus World Market store.  Barnes and Noble had again been a stopping point on our trip to Tahoe. where I invariably bought the books that I would be reading over the next few weeks.  I am a great fan of the independent bookstore but the loss of both of the large branches in the city that I enjoyed visiting is a lot to take.

We collected “The Beast”, set the radio to 95.7 The Wolf and left San Francisco at 11.30am, crossing the  Bay Bridge on a mild (58 degrees), bright morning.  Now, American readers might consider applying a Chevy Traverse with the nickname “The Beast” to be rather an exaggeration, but if you are accustomed to driving a Mazda 2 back home, believe me it’s a monster! Once we had passed Treasure Island we saw part of the new East span of the Bay Bridge which, once opened in another couple of years, will offer magnificent views towards Alcatraz and the Golden Gate Bridge.   

The 180 mile drive to South Lake Tahoe along Highways 80 and 50 was untroubled, traffic steady and the weather lovely, the in-car temperature guage going as high as 65 degrees around Sacramento (which has one of the least attractive American downtown skylines in my experience).  One of the most entertaining aspects of the journey was spotting the Adopt-A-Highway sponsors, two of the most intriguing being Friends of Obama (some might ask whether he still has enough to cough up the money to pay for the upkeep of a major road) and Jelly Belly.

The heavily snow-capped Sierra Nevada mountains first came into view as we approached Sacramento, though they hid themselves intermittently over the next fifty miles before dominating the final part of the drive.  We stopped for lunch at Starbuck’s in Hangtown Village Square in Placerville – note to self: remember to look up the derivation of that name. It was here that we experienced for the first time on this trip the classic, arguably over-effusive American customer service approach, exhibited by both the server and barista.  For now, it was welcome, but I wonder how soon it would be before it began to grate.

As Tahoe approached the side of the road became littered with signs such as “watch for snow removal equipment”, “chain installers work east of this point” and “slow traffic use turnouts” (laybys to UK readers). But in the benign weather today, they were irrelevant.

As the road climbed to more than 7000 feet the scenery of the Elderado National Forest and the gushing American River, became ever more spectacular.  And then…..the lake was teasingly laid out before us in all its beauty, only to disappear again as the twisting road plunged downhill.

We arrived in South Lake Tahoe at a little after 3.30pm, enabling us to fill “The Beast” up (it is so much cheaper than paying for a full tank of petrol at the outset) and return him to his Avis parents before the desk in the Embassy Suites closed.  Once checked in at Harrah’s we sought out Powder House ski and boot rental (the best deal in the resort) before dinner at Applebee’s (my cajun shrimp pasta was to die for), a brief , unsuccessful spell on the Harrah’s slots and bed (not our liveliest St Patrick’s Day I’ll acknowledge,but we were tired and wanted to hit the ski lifts early the next morning as a major snow system was scheduled to explode upon the area on Friday afternoon).

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