If You're Going to San Francisco.......

Yes we arrived in the Bay area during the 50th anniversary of the Summer of Love, but to me it was just the summer of lots of tourists and lots of traffic. When your son lives next to the Stockton Tunnel and you're sleeping in his bed next to a window cracked open for a breeze then you are very aware of urban living, including arguing couples, cars honking, lots of trams and buses, and loud music playing any and all times of day. The sign says Quiet Through Tunnel. Apparently people take that as a challenge.

Ian does live at the edge of Chinatown, though, so one intersection to cross and there we were.

                                    We met his girlfriend, Clio, and planned our events.

Each morning we would march through the tunnel towards Union Square, take a left, and head for La Boulangerie for coffee and a breakfast pastry.

We enjoyed both public art and art in museums. 

The newly remodeled SFMOMA.

Can you name these artists?

                                                             The view up to the catwalk.

 There was the DeYoung Museum at Golden Gate Park, directly across from the California Academy of Sciences.

Street signs comparing 50 years ago to today.

 

                                                         The rainforest at the CAS.

                                                       Claude, the albino alligator!

            Lots of walking up and down hills. Then back up. It always seemed uphill to Ian's place.

Oh look, a level street.

We took a bus down to the Embarcadero and Fisherman's Wharf, then a fun, vintage tram, and then we went by foot. It was packed with people everywhere so trying to do the tourist thing at Ghiradelli Square was out of the question. We headed for Pier 39. More tourists. No surprise.

                                                    Look at these lazy sea mammals.

This mammal was more attractive. 

We ate lunch at Scoma on Pier 47, and the tuna melt was to die for. Also the retro ambience with the Sinatra music in the background was just right.

The Embarcadero at night was also enjoyable. We ate at The Slanted Door inside the Ferry Building and enjoyed seeing the sun set over the Bay Bridge.

Another place we enjoyed was Top of the Mark for martinis, with a great all around view of the city. And yes, we had to walk uphill to get there.

There's the Golden Gate in the distance. We didn't actually cross it until we returned from a three day side trip to Healdsburg in the wine country. (next blog)

Our favorite meal was sushi at Hinata, a quiet and delicious experience with our expert chef and server, Gavin.

Our menu and entire meal. We ate ALL of this. So. Much. Fish.

                                                                       http://hinatasf.com/

                          Clio took me to her favorite yarn shop, Imagine Knit near Delores Park

  I could have spent all day there but Glenn and Ian were ready to move on and I had a coffee meet up with an old and dear friend, Julie Graham. I didn't get a photo op but my first visit in 1992 to San Francisco was to be matron of honor at her wedding. Here's a flashback to more hair and baggier jeans.

Ian and Clio were always fun to be around. He even booked us a Room Escape event, Escape From Alcatraz, where we were taken to a basement, put in a prison cell, and all handcuffed to the wall pipes with one hour to escape. Hint: we were winners! We're hoping he will bring her here for the big tour of Texas. Just not in summer. I was definitely enjoying the cool SF weather.

                                                      Until next time, San Francisco.

Oh, and in 1967 during the actual Summer of Love I was 17 , just graduated from high school, and living in Tallahassee, Florida. Groovy, baby.

All Aboard!

I love trains. I love the lonely sound of a whistle at night, the hum of the rails, the sense of not just going somewhere but going through somewhere. I also love train songs and train movies. Maybe it's my British genes, some tiny trainspotting cells inside me, some memories of cheery, adventurous children's stories with sweet, nostalgic illustrations of old steam engines and rows of brightly painted cars.

Maybe it's because I traveled on trains as a child, most memorably a two day journey from Salisbury, Southern Rhodesia (now Harare, Zimbabwe) to Cape Town, South Africa in the beginning of the most epic journey of my life that would take me back to England and ultimately to America.

So it was with great excitement that Glenn and I planned a train journey to San Francisco this past month. It began with a drive to Albuquerque, where we spent the night with friends, Toni and Gordon Getz, and sampled a most delicious salmon dinner. The next day we were driven to the Amtrak station, got on board and off we went,  on an overnight express, the Southwestern Chief, through New Mexico and Arizona, to Los Angeles.

Shortly after leaving Albuquerque we made our way to the club car. Drinks were limited but Kendall Jackson chardonnay was on the menu. Here's the determined traveler enjoying the view.

We didn't have a full sleeping cabin on the way out as they were sold out, so we got what was called a Roomette, only half a cabin wide, and interestingly tight at night. Glenn bravely took the top bunk. It wasn't as much fun as a party with Marilyn Monroe but about as cozy.

The dining car was pretty standard, although not quite up to these requirements of Hercule Poirot. We at least had white tablecloths, though.

At each meal we were placed randomly with other couples so that there were always four at a table. It was forced sociability but always interesting to hear other peoples' stories and where they were heading. No one took us aside and asked us to swap murders, thankfully.

We slept through the brown desert part and woke up in San Bernadino, California.

From there it was on to Union Station in Los Angeles and a transfer to the day train up the coast of California.

 We had booked business class seats for this part of the journey, upper level, bigger seats. When you're a senior citizen you can live large. At least we weren't like these poor beggars in stearage.

So off we went. And since the drought is over now in California, everything looked rich and radiant with colour and contrast. The sun, at times, coated everything in a golden haze.

It was a long trip, eleven hours, when it would have taken about six hours by car (except for leaving L.A.). At times the train seemed to crawl at 20 miles an hour. I felt I could pedal a bicycle faster. Why were we going so slow??

Rather than turn into Gene Wilder, Glenn actually Googled: "Why do Amtrak trains go so slow?" It turns out that was a popular question, with a very simple answer. In some areas, including California, Amtrak does not own its own tracks but uses public access tracks, therefore, freight trains always get the right of way. Our train had to literally slow down to let freight trains in ahead of us on the track. Next time I'm going hobo style.

I kind of miss the days when there was open air between each car. It made it more dramatic going to breakfast.

We did finally arrive in Oakland that night, where we were loaded on a bus and zipped over the brand new, refurbished Bay Bridge just in time to see San Francisco all lit up at night. What an entrance! But more on that place in my next blog.

(stock footage here as I was not camera ready)

And that's my first train ride in sixty years.

For your added pleasure see if you can name all the train movies I referenced.