San Francisco

28.11.2007 - 30.11.2007 14 °C

Day 1

Bored and desperate to get out of the Jamaica area of New York, I took a cab from the hotel to the airport at 12pm and the plane duly took off ontime at 3:30pm. Unfortunately my dreams of a great flight were savaged by the realisation that internal American Airlines flights are...basic. Little room, no screen in front, and no free food or drinks (unless you want water). I also had the dubious pleasure of sitting next to a grumpy old bag who seemed particularly irritated by me asking her to move so I could take my seat by the window. With not much else to do I spent the majority of the 6 hour flight jostling with her for arm and leg position, and then clipped her ankle as she walked down the aisle getting off the plane. Oops.

It was rush hour in San Francisco and roadworks on the main road meant a rather expensive cab journey. Again. I arrived at my hotel to be childishly excited at the prospect of staying in a classic American motel with the rooms in clear sight above a small car park, with a little room at the front to check in. In other words, it was a hellhole.

After recovering from my shock at how good the actual room was inside, I ventured out onto Lombard Street and decided to complete my experience at a good old American Diner on Lombard Street where I ate burger and fries with a shake. Nice. Then it was off to bed for some seriously well-needed sleep, with a visit to the Golden Gate Bridge and whatever else I could squeeze in the next day.

Day 2

Well, the first thing to report is that San Francisco, or at least the majority of it, is nothing like New York.

It's hotter. It's hilly. There are no skyscrapers blocking the sun everywhere you go, and the temperature is more consistent as a result. When you leave your hotel you walk past people's homes, which are great, rather than endless eateries and shops. People don't constantly throw leaflets in your face. The streets are clean and also colourful at times. There are no sewage pipes or steaming drains spewing out a horrible stench. People talk rather than shout. Joggers and cyclists fill up their own dedicated lanes. Hardly anybody smokes. Couples chase their dogs around what seem to be an endless series of lush green parks. There are no hoodlums or menacing looking gangs on the corners of the streets. No-one tries to sell you drugs. Even the homeless, of which there are very few, don't beg and just politely stare at the ground. Solitary people stand on the sidewalks doing bizarre exercises without fear of being mocked. Even the lunatics who speak unknown languages are smiley and somehow approachable.

I found it all very disturbing.

Anyway, I set off in the morning down towards the bay, without checking my map first which was a bit foolhardy, and then turned east to go to Fisherman's Wharf. I shouldn't have done this as I hate the smell of fish, but it comes recommended. Unsurprisingly it stank of fish, and I turned back around and walked all the way back towards the Golden Gate Bridge.

No matter how far I seemed to walk, the bridge never got any closer. Endless paths, roads and turns, yet still it looked the same (long) distance away. Finally, after a few stops to adjust my shoes and socks, I arrived at the base of the bridge to find the footpath up to it was closed. For my own safety apparently. Bugger. I turned back and walked half a mile the other way and then took a painfully steep footpath up to the top. After almost two hours of uncomfortable walking I'd reached my destination, all hot and sweaty and bothered.

The bridge is spectacular, no doubt about it. The cables used to make it can wrap the earth 3 times over. I've no idea how you'd begin to build any bridge, let alone one that size and scale - it's really something to behold. I strolled along it for a while and soon came to the disappointing realisation that there really wasn't much else to do on it. I stopped, took a few pictures, then a deep breath and headed back to Lombard Street.

Back at the hotel I took off my shoes to reveal a blister on my left foot over an inch in diameter. Nice. I rested my weary limbs for a while and then hobbled out for some food and a few drinks, then hobbled back for a busy one the next day.

Day 3

I'd pre-booked a bus trip round the city centre, so I strolled down to Fisherman's Wharf again (an hour from my hotel), ate an omelette and all the crap that comes with it in America,and then hopped on board.

It was excellent, a very complete and informative tour that was brilliantly narrated by a sarcastic, droll Californian. My favourite bit - 'And here on the left is the Indonesian Passport Office, which is very handy indeed. You never know when you might need that'. Having had my fill of the city centre I went down to Pier 33 to complete my excursions with a trip to Alcatraz.

Alcatraz was as good as I'd hoped, but no more (let's not go overboard, it is after all an empty building on an island). Little plaques everywhere you go give intriguing bits of information, and the audio tour of the main prison is very well done, featuring real ex officers and prisoners. I'm sure everyone knows all about Alcatraz so I'll leave it there...if you've been to San Francisco and didn't to the trip, you missed out.