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| ♪ ♫ ♩ ♬ I've been in love with love, and the idea of something binding us together- you know that love is strong enough |
I lost my head in San Francisco. The Russians are coming. No wait, they're here.
This morning starts with a quick breakfast of all sorts of amazing things. There are so many delicious choices that I am taken back to freshman year of college and the glorious buffet that was the Wilkerson Dining Center. A meal plan was probably the most ridiculous and overpriced option ever--but I had nachos and chocolate pudding almost every day. Oh I miss those days...and that metabolism....
After breakfast, our walking guide, Claudia, rallies everyone in the lobby of the hostel and begins the tour. Claudia is from Russia, and works at the hostel. She is friendly and knowledgeable and also quick with jokes. I like her immediately.
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| Dragon Gate to Chinatown |
We start in Union Square where the sun is out and the streets are buzzing with morning activity. From there, Claudia leads us to Chinatown, and through a few hidden alleys. It seems lots of the "interesting places" in Chinatown are in the alleys per Claudia's indications--but Claudia is Russian. Suspicious of her intentions, I ask if the next dark alley is where the tour ends. Claudia indicates that there are too many people here as witnesses, but in the next alley I should be on guard. She is a good sport.
We weave through the maze of people and paper lanterns that is China Town. Tour guide Claudia now states that we are moving onto a more strenuous part of the hike. I have chosen to wear flip flops in the absence of shoes, and have forgotten my sunglasses because these important items were left behind in the pickup. In the parking garage. Which is several blocks away. And where my $40 and hopefully intact pickup and motorcycle are. I remain bitter about this situation, and am now blind and lame because of it. I was unprepared for parking even though I knew about the parking shortage in the back of my mind. And then when it all went down and it was dark and I was in a hurry to get out of the parking garage I completely forgot basic survival items such as proper shoes and eye wear. Phooey.
We begin the "strenuous" stretch of the tour. Claudia is taking us towards Coit Tower, up a street that will give us a wonderful view. Given the incline, it will also give me muscular calves and a nicely sculpted buttocks--provided I do not slide out of my flip flops and roll down.
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| I will. Gladly. |
From the top, we can see the city sprawling out below us in blocks of concrete that connect like puzzle pieces. The Golden Gate Bridge looms over the ocean, mostly visible as there is only a bit of fog this morning. Claudia is right about the view being great, and we will wait until tomorrow to see about my theory on the workout benefits. Every theory should be measurable. If I cannot walk, sit, or stand properly due to soreness I will assume I was correct in my muscle building hypothesis.
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| Mostly clear day for a view of the Golden Gate |
We continue upward and wind up the stone steps to Coit Tower. From here we can see a little more of the bay and Alcatraz is visible from from it's island fortress in the frigid waters. Several hostel members toured Alcatraz yesterday. I am not interested. I have seen The Rock approximately 15 times and I do not want anyone shoving a glycerin ball into my mouth that will make my body turn it's insides out and make my skin burn off. Unless Sean Connery is escorting me, I cannot envision Alcatraz as anything but a place that he and Nicholas Cage went to to save California and the world. I can't take the chance of the picture in my head getting skewed by the reality of the actual physical site, or take the chance that the movie depicts what might actually happen to me there. No tour for me. In my mind, Alcatraz is much more action packed than it probably is in reality. And the place just completely freaks me out.
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As we turn to climb down the Coit Tower stairs, Claudia points out a statue in the middle of the landing area below the tower. She first indicates it is Christopher Columbus and begins to explain why the statue has been placed there. I feel it looks more like Sean Connery and point this out, so Claudia agrees, corrects herself, and indicates it is in fact Sean Connery standing guard over Alcatraz from his bronzed vantage point at Coit Tower. I love Claudia more now than I did a half hour ago. And even more than before we met.
Claudia has a completely different route for getting down to sea level again. The hike back to the street winds down assorted sets of steps, and through a beautiful assortment of flowers and other blooming plants. It is as if we are walking through a tropical garden rather than the streets of San Francisco. We are also obviously walking through parts of various people's yards...We finally reach street level and from this point continue on to Fisherman's Wharf. Claudia leaves us here with several options for food, activities, and travel methods for getting back to the hostel. We stay mostly together as a group and make our way to Pier 39 where the sea lion showdown is in full swing. One sea lion climbs up onto the wharf. Another sea lion slaps him down, barks victory, and then waits for the next competitor. The other sea lions nap.
This is entertainment for the whole family.
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| Hostel friends: Arianne, Madelene, Belinda, Marianna, Calculator guy, Melbourne. I did not fail to get the names of the gentlemen in the group on purpose; it just happened. |
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| Someone please call social services. I feel like a plastic bed comforter case does not double as a protective germ shield for your baby. Don't try this at home. |
After our meal we all head separate ways. My next destination is the beach to take in some ocean air before continuing up the coast. I return to the hostel to collect my suitcase, and then retrace my steps back to the infamous parking garage. Everything seems as it should be when I arrive at the pickup. Relieved, I begin the short drive to the beach. As I navigate the crowded streets, I pass by the famed Tenderloin neighborhood, which I have been warned to avoid. At least I remembered some important things about San Fran. I also catch a few interesting/hazardous glimpses of parenthood at its finest.
It's chilly for beach time, but I get way too excited for the ocean to care initially. I am also learning (slowly) that in my excitement I almost always end up closer than I should to the water, which means less dry than I was.
After some relaxing on the beach and a quick stop at the Beach Chalet Restaurant, it's back on the road. The Pacific Coast Highway is more amazing than I imagined with every mile that passes beneath my tires. I stop several times just to admire the jagged cliffs covered in bright succulents with colorful buds and blooms. The best part about this trip is I have no time constraints. Stopping along the way for a quick picture, or a hike to the shoreline, or a brief nap is all part of the plan. The plan that is no plan. I like how it's working out. God is driving and I am just following where He leads.
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| PCH |
I arrive in Monterey Bay early in the evening and I can already tell I like it. It feels like a sleepy coastal village that fits like an old sweater that is faded, yet comfortable in all the right ways. The hostel is almost like home, although the residents are a little older than is typical. I get comfortable and am ready for some zz's but find that I am kept awake by the ladies in the room discussing their menopause and subsequent hot flashes. They then orchestrate a group effort to open all the windows and help hoist each other up into their bunks. I'm part entertained, part annoyed, and mostly too tired to care. I just need to close my eyes.
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| Downtown Monterey Bay |
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