The fact that it's December finally caught up with us after spending three straight days here with sun and fairly clear skies. Yesterday, it rained and fogged. I slept in and walked down to the video store with my mom. We intended to rent Escape from Alcatraz with Clint Eastwood in preparation for the Alcatraz night tour, but the video store said the last person who rented it didn't return it. So we settled on, well, Superbad. Also a great film, but for different reasons.
After sitting around for most of the day reading (and then watching the movie), my parents, my brother, my brother's girlfriend, Whitney, her parents, and I took two cabs down to Pier 33 by Fisherman's Wharf to catch the evening tour to Alcatraz.
While people will tell you Alcatraz is the biggest tourist trap San Francisco has to offer, and in many ways I suppose it could be, I have to say it's worth every penny to take the 15 minute ferry ride across the bay to see it. As we rode over on the ferry at dusk, a translucent fog enveloped the island and we could still see the outline of the city in the distance. It felt eerie to climb to the top of the island and then into the prison and learn not only about the escape attempts, but of just what the day-to-day was like for the prisoners who lived there. It must have worn on the prisoners to see the life and vibrancy of the city from the island -- they knew they were so close, but yet couldn't be further away from freedom.
We took the ferry back across the bay. Adam and I decided we'd brave the weather (mostly fog and light rain) on the top deck. We grabbed a couple beers from the snack bar and went up there so I could point to parts of the city and have him explain where each neighborhood ended and the next one begun.
When we got back to Fisherman's Wharf, that's where the trouble began. Adam had made plans for us to eat at an Italian place in North Beach (that doesn't take reservations but where getting a table generally isn't a problem), and called to verify the address. When he phoned them, however, he learned that they were closed until January 9. As a result, and believe me, I felt bad for him, he was standing on a street corner with his parents, future in-laws, girlfriend and his brother with no table reserved anywhere on 8 p.m. on a Friday. We looked for cabs just to take us from Fisherman's Wharf up to North Beach, but none came. Apparently, anytime it rains in San Francisco, cabs become hard to find.
We eventually made it up to a small italian place but ended up waiting an additional hour for a table. My dad, Whitney's dad, Adam and myself ran up a tab of about 15 Moretti's and the women polished off a couple bottles of wine while we waited. Needless to say, we were feeling no pain by the time we finally got seated and ate some brick-oven pizza.
Saturday, December 29, 2007
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
Last couple days in San Francisco
A couple days worth of notes:On Wednesday, we had lunch at The Ramp. It's located just off Third Street by the Waterfront. According to Adam, the best thing about The Ramp is that for a restaurant on the water, it's a pretty well-kept secret from tourists. It's not far past AT&T Park (where the Giants play) and near the Portrero area of the city. The reason it might be kept so secret is that that part of the city, at the surface, isn't much to look at. A lot of it is under construction, as developers are betting it will be "the next big neighborhood" in San Francisco.
In the afternoon, we drove around the city and looked at potential neighborhoods for me to live in. Now: a word about my brother's driving. It's a bit on the aggressive side. His Volkswagen Passat is a standard, and he shifts in and out of lanes and swears and curses and pretty much lives by the Lynch mantra of driving with a sense of entitlement, if not anger.
We looked at the Haight Ashbury, which is a section I've wanted to live in since reading the Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test by Tom Wolfe about Ken Kesey and his Merry Pranksters when I was in high school. While it has kept the bohemian feel you read about, it's kind of J-Crew, tourist hippy at this point, where a lot of it seems contrived. That said, the residential parts have amazingly constructed homes with colorful paint and wonderful moldings.
Near the Haight is the Cole Valley area, which would be near transportation that would take me toward my work rather easily.
Afterward, we drove up along the Presidio and then back down to the bay where I went and looked at the Golden Gate, yet again. I thought about the scene in Vertigo where Jimmy Stewart follows Kim Novak and jumps in after her.
Yesterday:
Adam and I drove down to Burlingame in the afternoon and played golf at Crystal Springs, a course that overlooks, even in December, verdantly green hills. It runs along Buri Buri Ridge of the old San Mateo Rancho, and if you hook a ball a little too far, you could watch it fall down into the valley that where the 20-mile-long Crystal Springs Reservoir (and under it, part of the San Andreas fault) resides.
It was cold, though (in the forties), and we found ourselves blowing into our hands to keep warm and it stung to feel the vibrations of the club if you didn't hit the ball square (which, seeing as I hadn't played in a couple months, happened every now and again). We drank some Pilsners to keep warm and kept the windshield down on the golf cart.
In the evening, I took the muni downtown (to the financial district) and met Ben for dinner and drinks, which was a good time. With his wife due soon, I'd purchased a Red Sox onezie (sp) that I hope the little one will get good use from. Ben was pleased, saying it's the best possible baby gift I could have gotten them, so that was nice.
Afterward, I went back to the flat on Hyde Street my parents are renting, had a glass of wine and went to bed.
Christmas in San Francisco
My parents and I arrived into San Francisco International Airport (SFO) Christmas afternoon at around 2 p.m. It was around 50 degrees and clear and just generally beautiful to watch the skyline of the financial district emerge as my brother drove us into the city on 101 from the south.
We dropped off my parents at the flat their renting for the week up here in Russian Hill, a polished-looking but unpretentious part of the city that my brother, Adam, has lived in for almost a year now.
Adam and I picked up some food for dinner at a corner store that stayed open despite the holiday. Or, I should say, we picked up the side dishes. My dad actually hauled a Honey Ham in his carry-on bag for the 3,000 mile-plus plane ride that made the TSA folks at Logan sort of scratch their heads and laugh when it went through the surveillance machines. A heavyset guy walked to the end of the belt, where my dad was putting his shoes back on, and said, "Is that a ham in your bag?" And my dad responded that it indeed was, and the guy just chuckled and said he'd "seen it all."
In the evening, the four of us ate dinner at Adam's apartment and we drank some local beers brewed in Berkeley called Trumer Pilsner. After my parents left around 8, Adam and I grabbed a couple more beers and poured them into indiscreet-looking yellow party cups and walked through Sterling park, which is a small hill a few blocks from his apartment on Larkin Street. It has a nice view of the city. We then walked down Larkin further (which becomes so steep it requires steps) to the water and to the Golden Gate National Recreation Park. We sat on the cold stone steps of the Aquatic arena, which overlooks the water and in the distance, the Golden Gate Bridge. As we sat there and talked and sipped on some more beer, Adam noted that the sight of the Golden Gate "never gets old." I could see why. It was lit up and looked warm against the cold purple evening clouds that were coming in off the bay and slowing enveloping the hills of San Francisco.
Today, I went for a run down in the same area by the water. It was clear and crisp outside. I ran out to this point that curled around the Aquatic Arena and overlooked the Golden Gate from a similiar angle as I'd seen the night before. I think, at that moment, a feeling of renewal overcame me. During the past few weeks, with work and everything else going on, I had barely exercised at all. It was only in the low forties this morning, so it was cool, and I could feel my lungs work through the cold air as I ran along. It felt good as I ran along the water, back up Larkin (and the steps!) and back to my brother's for breakfast.
This afternoon, my mom, appalled by the state of my hair and "scraggly" beard, is taking me to this swanky barbershop to get a beard grooming and haircut. Afterward, I hope to go down to second street and see where my new office will be.
More posts to come.
We dropped off my parents at the flat their renting for the week up here in Russian Hill, a polished-looking but unpretentious part of the city that my brother, Adam, has lived in for almost a year now.
Adam and I picked up some food for dinner at a corner store that stayed open despite the holiday. Or, I should say, we picked up the side dishes. My dad actually hauled a Honey Ham in his carry-on bag for the 3,000 mile-plus plane ride that made the TSA folks at Logan sort of scratch their heads and laugh when it went through the surveillance machines. A heavyset guy walked to the end of the belt, where my dad was putting his shoes back on, and said, "Is that a ham in your bag?" And my dad responded that it indeed was, and the guy just chuckled and said he'd "seen it all."
In the evening, the four of us ate dinner at Adam's apartment and we drank some local beers brewed in Berkeley called Trumer Pilsner. After my parents left around 8, Adam and I grabbed a couple more beers and poured them into indiscreet-looking yellow party cups and walked through Sterling park, which is a small hill a few blocks from his apartment on Larkin Street. It has a nice view of the city. We then walked down Larkin further (which becomes so steep it requires steps) to the water and to the Golden Gate National Recreation Park. We sat on the cold stone steps of the Aquatic arena, which overlooks the water and in the distance, the Golden Gate Bridge. As we sat there and talked and sipped on some more beer, Adam noted that the sight of the Golden Gate "never gets old." I could see why. It was lit up and looked warm against the cold purple evening clouds that were coming in off the bay and slowing enveloping the hills of San Francisco.
Today, I went for a run down in the same area by the water. It was clear and crisp outside. I ran out to this point that curled around the Aquatic Arena and overlooked the Golden Gate from a similiar angle as I'd seen the night before. I think, at that moment, a feeling of renewal overcame me. During the past few weeks, with work and everything else going on, I had barely exercised at all. It was only in the low forties this morning, so it was cool, and I could feel my lungs work through the cold air as I ran along. It felt good as I ran along the water, back up Larkin (and the steps!) and back to my brother's for breakfast.
This afternoon, my mom, appalled by the state of my hair and "scraggly" beard, is taking me to this swanky barbershop to get a beard grooming and haircut. Afterward, I hope to go down to second street and see where my new office will be.
More posts to come.
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