San Francisco April 20, 2012

Yesterday was my day to cross another thing off my list of goals.  We were going to the Golden Gate Bridge.  We needed to catch the underground where we would eventually get off somewhere.  Here in SF you can call 311 and tell them where you are and where you want to go, and the human being on the other end will tell you how to get there.  That's what Bob did, but the human on the other end only told him to get off on 19th Avenue, not WHERE on 19th avenue. 

Along the way we saw some guerrilla art.  For those of you who don't know what that it- it is NOT like Guatemalan Guerrilla art (do those guys actually make any art?) it is art, or something else, that is placed (usually) on public property, anonymously, for the sole purpose of making people smile or think.  This particular art was nothing special, but it made me smile anyway; someone had knitted a cover for the bicycle rack.

We took the underground, which emerged above ground outside the city limits.  We desperately needed a back pack and where we emerged was (Ta da!) a mall. We went in, bought a backpack, listened to a tale by the sales clerk about getting ready to participate in some event with former Speaker of the House, Nancy Pelosi, then grabbed some lunch.  Because you have all seen what it looks like to eat lunch at the mall food court, we did not take any pictures.

Once we finished lunch we went to the bus stop to complete our journey to the bridge.  By this time, school had let out and the bus kept filling with teenagers.  Here is some encouragement for those of you who think each generation becomes a little less respectful.  Many kids were sitting on the bus and as soon as an elderly person got on the kids gave up their seats without thinking about it.  You could tell by their facial expressions and body language that it was just a part of the way they live.  

The time we were waiting for finally arrived; The Golden Gate Bridge!  The map shows a bicycle rental place right there at the southern side of the bridge, but the map printers failed to include the current remodeling of the building that housed the bicycle rental place.  So...we walked.

Have you ever found yourself responding in the affirmative, with far too little information, when someone said, "Hey lady, can you do me a favor?" or "Yo! Can you hook me up bro?"  If yes, then you'll understand why I just took over when the man said, "Ma'am, would you mind holding this while I tie my shoe?"

The bad news is that I didn't get to save a jumper with my own two hands, the good news is that my holding up the bridge encouraged any would be jumpers to keep on living.  I'll count that as one more goal successfully completed.

Bicyclists on the left, old men and little girls on the right.

 What about the rest of us?  ...and the rest of you can go jump off a bridge for all we care?

Anyone care to interpret?  Anyone?  ANYONE?

I did not make this up.  It was found at a payphone.

We climbed/walked the bridge and reached the end.  There was nothing there, so we had to turn back.  Now I can truthfully tell my children, "I walked across the Gold Gate Bridge, uphill, both ways!"

Here's a view from the other side of the bridge. It was so windy, so windy, that what resembled hair when I left home that morning, looked more like a bird's nest when I returned in the evening.  Bob is obviously becoming acclimated (that's acclimatized for my tall attorney friend).  While I was shivering in my buttoned up wool coat, he walked it in his t-shirt.

After the bridge, we went to Fisherman's Wharf.  There were lots of little, overpriced shops, a Ghiardelli ice cream shop (no we didn't have any), and about 274 restaurants.  We picked the one with the out of order restroom.  The food was okay; not great, not bad.

We saw one busker Bob found especially hilarious.  He was holding a violin and a bow, rubbing the bow against the violin.  Notice I didn't say he was playing the violin?  He wasn't even pretending to play.  "EEE-EEE-EEE"  There is an icon here in San Francisco, The Bushman.  He is a man who hides behind greenery, palm fronds and other tall foliage, waiting for unsuspecting tourists, then he jumps out at just the right moment and yells "AAAAHHH".  We got to see him scare the daylights out of one such tourist.  Then he had the chutzpah to ask for some money.

There is one grumpy trolley car driver in San Francisco.  We had the temporary delight to ride in his car.  He posted this sign.

Not a telepath or omniscient?  Darn!  I bet he knows what I think about that!

By the time we left the Wharf I was so exhausted I missed all the funny signs that I'm sure we passed.  We arrived home, met our host Geo, and chatted about all sorts of ridiculous things, before finally collapsing into bed.

San Francisco April 19, 2012

Hello fellow travelers,

I was thinking, I am really doing all the hard work for you guys to enjoy this fabulous trip without having to walk up and down the hills, you don't have to deal with the jet lag, or the unseasonably cold weather.  I know you all appreciate it from the bottom of your hearts.  It does bring me to the first adventure we had yesterday. I needed a warm coat.  It is like a Florida winter here (really, I can see my breath each morning).  My sweaters were not enough to keep me warm.  We found a thrift store, Out of the Closet, and I bought a great coat that I hope I will be able to use in the winter.

We had two things on our agenda yesterday.  The first was Chinatown.  Along the way we found a trolley car.  I got to cross my first goal off my list; can you guess what it is?

"Rice-a-Roni, the San Francisco treat..."  Notice my new coat?

Along our path to Chinatown we stumbled across (not literally) some unusual signs.  Help me decipher them please.

I think the first one might mean "no hand holding heterosexual couples allowed" or maybe "men may not carry a man purse if the lady is carrying a purse too".  The second one was clearly written by a contrarian.

The time we were waiting for had arrived... the gate to Chinatown. 

If everywhere else in America everything is made in China, would everything sold in Chinatown be made there too?  Yep.  It was, we checked for the purpose of maintaining authenticity. We went into about half a dozen stores and bought a few little silly things.  Then we got something to eat.  We found a cute little french restaurant in the heart of Chinatown...just kidding.  We ate Chinese.  We're not ones to normally eat with chopsticks, but as mentioned yesterday, when in Rome...

After eating we decided to get off the beaten Chinatown path and head down some side streets.  This is where the fun began.  I saw a store named/called something creative like "HERBS AND SPICES" and we went inside.  It was not an herb and spice store, it was a Chinese apothecary.  It was fascinating to look around and on the counter, in front of the hundreds of apothecary drawers, was a large sheet of paper with all sorts of interesting dried things, including what looked like dried snake skin carefully piled on.  A man behind the counter was weighing various spices and herbs for a waiting customer.  I didn't take any pictures because it seemed like such disrespect "oh... look at the cute Chinese people...let me take a picture..."

I have an apology to make.  For all of you who ordered chickens yesterday; I didn't find any, so I bought you some fish instead.

After Chinatown we headed back home with enough time to relax for a short time before heading out to a Toastmaster meeting.  The Golden Gate Toastmasters.  The did not have a banner so I did not take a picture of myself there because it would simply look like me standing with a bunch of strangers, which of course is exactly what it would have been.  I did not get an opportunity to speak, therefore I did not get an opportunity to win the ribbon.  After the meeting we went out to eat at a place called The Irish Bank.  It was not a bank, nor was there anything especially Irish about it.  The food was okay and two of the Toastmasters gave me some suggestions to get over my devastating contest loss last year.  

We stumbled back home around 11:00 our time, 2:00 your time and collapsed into bed.  Today we are planning on renting bicycles and riding over the Golden Gate Bridge into Sausalito.  Let's hope I can save a jumper...

San Francisco April 17, 2012

Bob and I arrived at the airport dark and early.  The sun had not yet risen.  We made it through security unscathed but I did get my very first- wait for it- PAT DOWN!  Maybe it was my suspicious gait and demeanor, or maybe it was the strip tease I did while disrobing.  Shoes, jacket, belt...It's all about perspective.  I could've taken them all off the way I do at home, but how often do I get an audience of a hundred or so people?  The pat down was not as intimate as I had hoped for, but after all, it was my first time.

While I on the plane I watched the flight attendant model and display the oxygen mask.  How does one acquire a flight oxygen mask without actually participating in a flight disaster?  Any ideas?

In the Dallas Airport I saw these very strange signs:

I can't imagine what kind of severe weather would be happening in there, unless they are referring to the automatic flushing toilets.  In case you think it might be a female thing; there was one at the men's room too.

From the airport we took a shared shuttle.  The young girl sitting in the front seat insisted on keeping her headphones in her ears and saying, "What? What? What?" the woman behind us kept complaining about how long she'd been sitting in the shuttle, and the driver, who's accent was was thick and voice far too low to reach the back seat, kept having to repeat himself, "Miss Diana...where you go?" while driving AND trying to program his GPS.  The young girl asked if he would like her to take the wheel.  That's when he decided to pull over.

While at the airport we found the pariah section jokingly called the smoking section.  It's inside the green lines.  Yes, San Francisco, the most unfriendly city to smokers in the world.

We arrived safe and sound at our host's home where he was waiting for us with a smile.  He showed us around his home, which was built in 1883, and ran off to work.  We headed out to get some transportation passes and then down to Fisherman's Wharf.  We didn't actually make it that far.  The temperature was dropping and I needed some socks.  Yes, I know that socks with Birkenstocks will make me stand out as the tourist that I am, but I'm okay with that.

We found a little restaurant in the Ferry Building where I ordered far more than my stomach can possibly hold.  Then we took a trolley back home.

Along our travels we saw one man who didn't seem to be bothered by the cold at all.

While I'm usually the first to say, "When in Rome..." I'm not taking my clothes off.

Off to Chinatown today. Anyone need me to pick them up a chicken or two?