US here we come

On Tuesday 20th May, we experienced the Frisco cable car system, travelling into the central shopping area, Union Square, up all the very hilly streets you see on television shows set in San Francisco. So often during our adventure, I felt that we were part of a movie set. This added to the excitement. What was that old 1970s show with Karl Malden? “The Streets of San Francisco”. Yes, that’s it. Well, I feel like I’ve had a guest role.

The central business district was as exciting and interesting as the Embarcadero and Fisherman’s Wharf area. Again, we found street musicians ‘everywhere’. The vibe was a happy and fun one; however, as with New York City, there’s an open homeless problem in Frisco. This time I was approached by a black guy selling a newspaper published by a collective of homeless people. I happily bought one, and later bought other copies from other homeless people. It’s a very different attitude to the homeless we saw in NYC – at least these guys were fighting back in some way.

Our 14 year old son, Joey, had been disappointed with NYC in so far as there were no really good record or CD shops. There’s a huge Virgin Records store on Times Square but Joey was after the more gritty, hard-to-get, second-hand rap stuff. Well, in Union Square, Frisco, he found what he wanted. It’s a big five-storey music store called ‘Rasputin Records’, with different genres on each of the five storeys. He was very happy and made a few purchases of importance to him. (The next day, we found an even bigger place on the Haight – but that’s another story).

A funny thing happened to us on the way to the subway to get back to the Embarcadero/wharf area. We asked an information attendant, in a glass booth, for the right train and she was very helpful. However, she spoke into a microphone when answering us and it had that typical railway-station treble-echo effect. No problem – we received the right directions and walked downstairs to the distant subway station. She had told us to go to the platform on the right, after walking down the stairs, and we mistakenly veered to the left. You can imagine our surprise when, despite being way out of her view, we suddenly heard her booming trebly echoing voice come over the loud speakers on the platform, telling us that we were going in the wrong direction and to stay on the right side. We looked at each other in disbelief at first and then all burst out laughing. It was the subject of many jokes, by me, throughout the rest of the day – as though she was watching us, on the railway security system, wherever we were!

Any visitor to the Fisherman’s Wharf area must come away with vivid memories of the sea-lions that have taken up residence on the little pontoons off pier 39. The story goes that there were none at all until 1989, when Frisco was hit by an earthquake. A small group of sea-lions set up temporary home on the pontoons and then, gradually, more and more turned up. There were a few hundred when we saw them. They look so cute and cuddly and so relaxed – however, they could buy your hand or head off in a flash, if you got too close. The local authorities are very good to them, and they attract tourists. Our hotel was close enough to pier 39 for me to wake up in the early hours hearing the sea-lions barking in the distance. A nice sound and one that I miss.

We wanted to make the most of every hour so that night we walked off up Polk Street back toward the city in search of a Greek restaurant that Joan had seen advertised. It was a terribly long walk, and hilly in parts, but we all made it in one piece – but we needed to catch a cab back to the hotel after the meal. The food, incidentally, was good quality, reasonably priced, and served in the now-expected huge portions. Far too much – even for a 105 kilo big-eater like me.

We all collapsed into bed, around 11.00pm, exhausted. And I went to sleep listening to the barking sea-lions down the road.

Was it a dream?

Barry

PS – Another couple of posts coming soon.

Tags: Travel

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