I'm truly, madly, deeply in love with traveling. Perhaps my wanderlust came from too many storybooks and a wild imagination. Either way, I have a desire to move, to go, to explore. Christopher Columbus would have been my best bud, I just know it.
San Francisco is my current stop. First-timer. Day one was spent touring the city by tour bus. (Not my ideal way to roam, but a great way to get a lay of the land.) The Golden Gate Bridge was playing hide and seek behind a blanket of fog, but its majesty was evident despite it being cut in half. (FYI, San Fran's foggiest days are in June, July and August.) International orange is the official color of the bridge, chosen because of its complimentary contrast to the landscape and visibility to ship captains sailing into the bay. Standing alone, though, international orange wouldn't show so well. It's as though God created this color especially for the Golden Gate. Never have I seen a more beautiful color palate. Nature's gradient with man's compliments.
On to Golden Gate Park, Fisherman's Wharf, Ghirardelli Square and Lombard Street. Next came the Castro district and two naked hippies sitting in lawn chairs on the sidewalk, showing off their birthday suits. No tan lines, I can appreciate that (only because their legs were crossed, keeping the boys from seeing the sun and ruining my sweet dreams). If I lived here, I probably wouldn't wear clothes either. Not because I'm anxious to "feel what freedom really feels like," but because I wouldn't have money to spend on anything but a roof over my head. Jeez, San Fran is an expensive city. A foot of space from your neighbor's house and no yard can cost over one million (even in a bad housing market).
The weather here is bizarre. Microclimates they call them. Ten steps from the water and you're taking off your sweater. Ten steps closer to the water and you're wishing you had another sweater. If you're a wimpy Southerner like me, you're wishing you had a parka and hand warmers. Swear it feels like Christmas in July here.
Want a bodacious booty? Walk the streets of San Fran. The hills are crazy steep and car brakes pampered more than their owners. Riding a cable car is like riding a roller coaster--I caught myself lifting my hands up on the way down a hill. Yeah, just hold on when you start tipping over the edge of the hill, it's the smart thing to do.
The food here is amazing, at least what I've had so far. Tommy's Joynt is a clever local place that serves you cafeteria style (without the hair nets) at an affordable price. BBQ beef brisket, mashed potatoes and gravy and cucumber salad was my plate's company, all for a cheap ten bucks. So, so tasty. (Make sure you have some Washingtons on hand--Tommy's is cash only.) I'm always sayin' it, but I promise you, the best food you'll ever eat will most likely be at a local eatery that has avoided The Tourist's Almanac.
San Fran day one down, three and half more to go.
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| Golden Gate Bridge (post fog) |
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| Lombard Street a.k.a The Crookedest Street |
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| San Fran roller coaster |
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| I obviously fell off the chocoholic wagon after this stop... |
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| View of Coit Tower from Lombard Street |
