San Francisco, our last day

Hello fellow weary travelers.  Are you ready to go home yet?

Today was our last day so we went to the Golden Gate Park, which is not near the Golden Gate Bridge.  Today was the first and only day we got to see the legendary fog of San Francisco.

Unlike most residents of San Francisco, the wheelchair bound can't take full advantage of the hills so the Department of Public Transportation has built a special wheelchair ramp with that in mind.

Golden Gate park is a long and narrow park, stretching over 1,000 acres.  We entered near Haight and Ashbury because one of the children's teachers, who shall remain nameless, asked me to pick her up a souvenir from there.  Don't worry Ms. J, I got it and it's well hidden. (Wink, Wink, Nod, Nod)

 The Haight Ashbury district is famous/legendary/notorious for its former residents including Jerry Garcia (who once lived in the purple house shown), Janis Joplin,  and Jefferson Airplane.  It's has a big hippie/druggie scene, but it also has lots of little vintage clothing stores up and down the main drag.

 I even saw some clothing from the Edwardian period.  Beautiful, authentic stuff.  I had to go in, but sadly, bought nothing.  We found our way to the entrance to the park and we in there less than 30 seconds when a young woman asked if we wanted to buy any marijuana, reefer, dope, weed, or just plain pot.  We said no thanks.  She and her small group of friends appeared to be homeless along with dozens and dozens of other young people.  Geo told us that unlike Sarasota, San Francisco is tolerant of their homeless.  They even have...park benches!  Gasp!  The park is beautiful.

They have a special children's area.  It has its own rules.

Rule #2, Adults Must Be Accompanied by a Child.  We didn't have a child, but there was a coffee stand right smack in the middle of the children's section.  What were we to do?  What would you do?  What would any self-respecting cold tourist do?  You betcha.  We agreed on a kid in the crowd and planned to tell any questioning officer that the little Asian girl in pink was our daughter.  No one asked.  We didn't take any pictures of her because that would just be creepy.

There is a Japanese Tea Garden we visited.  Unlike entering the general park, the Tea Garden charges a small admission.  Look at this gorgeous wisteria.

Bob took a couple of pictures of me in my bikini, but because it was so darn cold I kept my wool coat, long pants, and socks on.  I promise, my bathing suit was on under all that.  I promise.

All right, there is something I need to brace you all for.  Something you might not otherwise imagine, something you cannot be fully prepared for without pictures...

  After just one week in San Francisco, I got... look very very closely at my neck... a rainbow tattoo!

Okay, I came here with a few goals in mind, remember?  

#1 Save a jumper- check

#2 hang off a trolley singing Rice-a-Roni, the San Francisco Treat- check

#3 Escape from Alcatraz.  Okay, stay with me here.  I didn't actually go to Alcatraz, therefore I couldn't actually escape.  I did, however, eat at Escape From New York Pizza, so I'll count that-check

#4 Learn Mandarin.  Because I watch a children's cartoon titled "Ni Hao, Kai-lan", a show that teaches some basic Mandarin, I came to the city with a cursory knowledge of it.  I can already say hello- ni hao, thank you- cher cher, and grandpa- ya ya, I think it's safe to say that I already speak Mandarin-check.

Why I love San Francisco:

• Geo, our host.
• The Castro district is every straight woman's revenge on a male dominated world.  I've never seen so many pictures of naked and near naked men in my whole life.
• The public transportation rocks
• The views are fabulous
• The food is fabulous
• Everyone except for the one person in Cafe Flore and the one trolley driver (whom I suspect might be the same person) was especially friendly
• There is more to do than there is time for
• The buskers and street performers
• A walk or bus ride just a few blocks can take you to a different world

I don't know if I'll make it back, but I sure hope I do.

A special thanks goes to my photographer, idea editor, fellow sign spotter, and joke victim- my husband, Bob.  Thanks.