If you're going to San Francisco, that is. I didn't, they didn't fit under my Pats hat. But well, I'm not a flower child anyway.
Our Ocean Park Motel was a great affair. It was run by an old couple who had restored the historic motel to be a vintage dream. Plus, we had two rooms with three kingsize beds, so nobody had to share a bed with anyone for the last couple of nights in America. The rooms were nice and...roomy, the bath was pretty vintage (which doesn't mean dirty or anything, just that it looked rather retro and had a beauty mirror desk thingie behind the bathroom door), the furniture was also from the sixties or seventies, with strange switches and cords.
up the stairway on the right was our place
It was like a small flat rather than a hotel or motel room, and it made you feel cozy and at home. And then you heard the tram rattle by. In 10-20 minute rhythms. But it only took two or three to get used to, after that, we slept right through the rattle and tattle. We decided to try out a pizza place that was only a few blocks from the motel, which meant not having to get into the car. There was nothing much in our neighbourhood, the zoo, but other than that, it was mostly residential. It had colourful houses, a bunch of Chinese people, and surfers (with wetsuits hanging from their balconies).
Houses in our neighbourhood
And then there was this pizza place. That served Italian and Indian food, because the chef was Indian. So, we had Indian at a pizza place. But it was great. At the same time we watched the Red Sox (Oh, hey there throwback to Boston) vs. Giants game, and were happy my mother didn't wear her Red Sox head then and there, as a bunch of creepy teens got in, some of them wearing Giants' merchandise. We noticed that one of them was a Sox fan later, but still.
The next morning, I went for a run down to the Pacific and it was feeling kind of doomsday-esk. I don't know if the feeling came from the slight not even rain, but fog that started condensating on your skin or the clouds rolling in from the sea, the sky seemingly hanging really low, the empty beach at 6am (in Santa Monica there were people doing Tai Chi and running and drumming and...it was pretty busy even at 5:30) with just three other lost souls fishing in the incoming waves. Or maybe it was the dark, almost black sand. Or the dead bird I stumbled over. Or the sign at the entrance, which basically said: "Don't swim or you'll end up dead, because undertow". Anyhow, it felt pretty dark and eerie.
It was a surfer neighbourhood after all
After we all had gotten up and showered, we went to the only café in walking distance, which was the Java Beach, one of the cutest little cafés I'd seen on our trip so far, with a beachy look and feel, and really nice waitresses, as well as great coffee and breakfast.
Waikiki surfing logo and oatmeal for breakfast
From there we got into the tram, which turned into a metro train at West Portal, and drove through the city to Market/Powell Street, to go see the tourist info. We watched a cable car getting turned around and then walked up Powell Street, because my mom, who'd been to San Francisco before, insisted that driving Cable Car was boring.
When we hit Union Square, the sun came out through the clouds and in spite of the wind, it became quite warm. We changed streets and got unto Stockton, walking through a several story parking house up to Bush Street and toward Chinatown. The Gate was impressive, but the streets and vendors of Chinatown were pretty interesting, as the architecture differed so much from the surrounding modern buildings, you could see behind the smaller buildings of Chinatown. From there, we went up Filbert Street to Coit Tower, which was quite a steep climb, and suddenly we got why there were streets, busses were not allowed in, as that wasn't even the steepest street in the city. Plus, we were pretty happy our car stood in the motel parking lot, because none of us would have wanted to drive here. Coit Tower is great for getting a better view of the city and the bay, even if you don't get up onto the top, you can see a lot from the terrace in front of it.
Union Square
Berlin got buddy bears, San Francisco has buddy hearts
please enter Chinatown
clash of the architectural cultures
American version of the Terracotta Army
From there we took the bus to - what we thought would be down to Fisherman's Wharf, but the bus went a pretty crazy route, driving down (or rather up) one street, turning at the end, then driving down again. No idea what the point of that was, but we didn't question it, as in the end, we arrived where we wanted to, even if it took us a little longer. There was a big sign at the glas wall behind the driver that said: "Please don't talk to the driver, unless you have questions", but seemingly, no one had told the driver, as he in a rather active manner pursued chats with the customers, talking about where they were going, greeting some of them by name, talking about other customers he hadn't seen in a while, like good old Rosie, was she okay, had the guy whose name he couldn't remember seen her? Hopefully she wasn't sick. Oh, and Barabara had been seen a lot of times with that strange guy no one knew the name of. Was he her boyfriend? He didn't look like good news. Oh, and did Henry move? Because he's always getting off at another stop these days and the house he was living in before looks a little neglected these days. Honestly, for someone who isn't into small talk, this was hell. I had fingers and toes crossed that he wouldn't suddenly want to strike up a conversation with us. But luckily he didn't ask us our names, but started to ask where we wanted to go and told us where to go, then asked for our origin and started babbling numbers in German and asking us if he said it right. In the end, it was quite funny.
I really don't wanna drive here
Coit Tower
Streetfront of Pier 39
Dancing Crab mascott of Pier 39. Should be the crapping seagull, though
Loved this take-out design
Anyhow, with the directions he gave us, we reached Fisherman's Wharf and wandered around a little getting lost in the small tourist shops on Pier 39, playing a game of basketball at the arcade after having a burger in the arcade-adjacent burger joint, then we watched the sea lions beside the pier, who stank even worse than the elephant seals, but were also kind of cute. We went on to Pier 45, where the two US army boats USS Pampanito (submarine) and the SS Jeremiah O'Brien (Liberty Ship) are serving as museum boats these days. There was also an old storage hall at the beginning of the pier that didn't look like much, but housed a museum for old carnival and arcade games, which was one of the greatest things ever. There were old fortune teller booths, apparatuses to look into that showed you film strips of catastrophes or curious events that had happened and fascinated people, there were strongman games and old merry-go-rounds. We walked through there and regretted not having saved enough quarters to try every single thing.
random impressive arch on an abandoned pier
USS Pampanito
Somehow we had spent most of our afternoon at the piers, and then walking down the harbour front and up Leavenworth unti we reached the famous Lombart Street, the "windiest road in the world", between Leavenworth on its lower end and Hyde Street on its upper end. It was colourful, decorated with a whole bunch of flowers and there were cute little houses on the sides of road. Walking down Hyde Street from there took longer than the walk up, because boy, was that street steep and we almost came rolling down a few times.
Leavenworth end
ain't it purrty?
Go home street, you're drunk. Also, Know skateboards.
as seen from Hyde
random piece of street art
Back down at the seafront, near Ghiradelli Square, we took a look at Hyde Street Pier, that had already closed for the day and realised that the whole harbourfront started to get ready to call it a day. We wanted to get back to Market/Powell and were just wondering about how in the world we could get there best with public transport, when our eyes fell onto the cable cars, which went right where we wanted to go. So, I suggested taking the Cable Car, my mum, once again said that it was boring, and my brother said that we don't have to enjoy it, but it's the shortes route and the least fuss to just take the Cable Car. It took us a while to get onto one of the cars, because there was a line longer than two cable cars, but when we got on, we got lucky and sat right in the front, my brother standing on the side. Yes, we did take a video, and yes, I am going to spare you the thing. But guess who really enjoyed their socks off on the ride? During the funny ups and downs that almost felt like a rollercoaster ride? Right, me mum, the woman who had insisted the whole time that driving in a cable car was boring. She was utterly fascinated by the work the driver did and giggled all the time. It was fun. It really was, and I'm happy we half forced, half rationalised her into it.
Downtown, we held our eyes open for a nice restaurant and came across a Steak and Seafood pub-typie kind of thing called John's Grill. They handed us a menu and we all agreed to just take it and go in there.
Short explanatory break right here; as you may well remember, I severly scratched open my shin the day before and it had been too cold and cloudy for shorts in the morning. I could not wear skinny jeans, because the wound was giving me sh**, and the only other wide pants I had with me were sweat pants. Captain America sweatpants to be exact. So there I was, wearing a Smithsonian t-shirt and my Captain America sweatpants, about to head into a pub-like restaurant, no problem, right?
Except: there were people wearing suits and evening gowns in there! There were people wearing brand clothing and when I say brand, I'm actually talking designer brand clothing. But none of the servers ever batted a lash at my inappropriate clothing. It was the single most weird experience in my life. Okay, no, the one wearing sweatpants in Galerie Lafayette in Berlin was even weirder, but: it was really weird. On the other hand, we had seen the prices on the menu before we entered (which, for the quality of food they were serving wasn't even that expensive), which meant we were able to pay our closer to 200 Dollar bill at the end of the day. Also, we were polite to the staff, so the staff was really friendly to us. And we tipped well. Lesson of the day: if you got money, no one gives a flying f*** if you come into their restaurant wearing sweatpants. :D
three course menu: oysters (NEVER AGAIN, YIKES), small garden salad, and lobster ravioli (maybe a little much parmigiano)
the maltese falcon
But there's someting else about John's Grill. Does any of you know the hardboiled detective novel by Dashiell Hammet "Maltese Falcon"? Does any of you know the film adaptation with Humphrey Bogart from 1941? Well, part of the movie was filmed in this exact restaurant, and they had the falcon from the movie exhibited next to the staircase. I was in a place Humphrey Bogart had been decades ago.
Our last full day in San Francisco (and the US respectively) started once again at Java Beach, from where we made our way to the Golden Gate Park and its Japanese Garden, which was beautiful. There were Koi ponds and temples and peace lanterns and bridges, stone gardens and bamboo brushes... it was so tranquil and nice and calm and quiet. From there we did the one thing you have to do in San Francisco: we drove to and walked over the Golden Gate Bridge. You got a great view over the city from there and you can almost see Land's End beach to the other side.
not in, but found near the Japanese Garden
been there, done that, didn't get the t-shirt because there was a line
We took the next bus down to the Palace of Fine Arts, a gigantic temple-like structure which had only been built for one year for some expo or exhibition and had been supposed to be destroyed after that. But, everything does not always go according to plan and the good people of San Francisco saved the Palace, which is a lucky thing. You feel pretty small along the enormous columns and cupolas of the Palace and it looks like the remains of an ancient Grecian temple in the middle of San Francisco, right next to a cute little duck and turtle pond.
let there be art
On we went to Hyde Park Street Pier, where there was some nautical historical thing going on, explaining old ships and the work of the sailors on them. It was too much information to save into my already packed brain to really take in. And then we decided to go see Alcatraz. Walking down to the Pier from where the shuttle ship left, we encountered a few strange figures trying to sell us Alcatraz tickets, but we didn't think any of it. We went up to the ticket booth and asked when the next available tour would leave and the guy deadpan told us "July 5th"
I almost burst out laughing, because that seemed improbable. So, my brother went "No, I believe you misunderstood. When does the last available ship leave?" The answer was the same "July 5th". We went to ask if there were any other boats or companies going there, when we overheard a conversation pretty similar to ours, except that it went on a little differently. "And when's the next night tours available?" "July 10th, due to holidays and stuff" The woman asking burst out laughing. "Well, and what is so different about the night tours?" "Well, it's dark." She started laughing again as the clerk told her other things like "there are less people in a night tour" etc., but yeah. Our Alcatraz experience got cut a little short because they sold all their tickets over the internet, none left to sell to people just dropping by.
After Alcatraz interruptus we decided to walk down the waterfront to go find a market hall my mother remembered from her last visit. We found it after walking down all the way to Pier 1, and it turned out to be the market that gave Market Street its name, so well, we just took that as a sign and headed down Market street right through the financial district that reminded us an awful lot of the area around the Potsdamer Platz in Berlin.
this sea gull was so proud of its prey that it strutted like a up and down the street with its bag in beak, like a teenie with a new Micheal Kors handbag
museum ships at Hyde Street Pier
Financial District from the waterfront
pier. random pier.
market hall. Or Market Hall.
Or maybe it was just home sickness. Anyway, we looked at old and modern bank buildings, people going by and then gave ourselves a little time for shopping before we met again to get dinner. And because it was still to early to call it a day, we went to see X-Men whatever-the-title-of-the-new-movie-is. Parts of the movie played in Berlin. Which was a nice thing to think about after our time in the US. Getting home somehow sounded like a good idea.
It only took us a short stop on Oregon, one late dog, the rearranging of our flight's baggage, one missed flight, several mean-spirited desk clerks at German counters which made us miss the American customer service instantly, small talk with a Canadian guy who liked my Pats hat but not the Pats ("I can get on board with you liking the Gronk"), and about 20 hours to get back. But here we are. A whole lot of experiences richer and me already missing DC. Out of all these places, I miss DC like it's not even funny anymore. Maybe because me and DC, we still have business to handle. There's so much left to do there. So, yeah, next time I fly over there, you'll probably find me traipsing through Washington DC, Brooklyn, and/or New England.
Course set for home and my own bed and pillow
