San Francisco

I traveled up to the far north , through cities named San This and Santa That to San Francisco. Arriving in Frisco was like entering Neverland, a mystic island clouded by heavy fog (or magic smoke :-P). I stayed with Raingirl in her fancy hotel. The hotel is close to Chinatown, which reduced our dinner choices to Chinese, Chinese or Chinese?

This morning started with a video call from Sweden, where Blackjack told us about their 26 degrees heatwave, so much for traveling to (sunny?) California to freeze in windy San Francisco. We donned our briskness and went on a looooong walk along the beach towards Golden Gate Bridge. Along the way we saw the prison island Alcatraz and drooled over striped pyjamases in souvenir shops (I so want one that says "Alcatraz swim team").

We saw Crookedest Street, the crookedest street I've ever seen. Maybe the landscape architect had smoked something or the steepness of the hill made it impossible to go straight even when you're sober, but the result was a unique and beautiful street.

We headed for Golden Gate, breathing the fumes from the freeway on the way and then finally, seeing the orange bridge emerging in the fog. Some megabytes of photos later, we jumped on a bus to get back, just to realize that the bus went in the wrong direction. We dived out of the crowded bus causing swearing and sore toes and got on a new one, this time going to the Market.

There we met Lovebud, who came directly from her overambitious studies at Berkeley. She takes a few extra credits (50% more) and had a todo-list like a toilet paper roll. We went to the place were dreams come true: the Cheesecake Factory. Here's no overindulgence too sinful and the sugar rush completely divine.

We ended the evening in the City of Lights, a bookstore with shelves propped with (erotic) gay literature and local poetry. Now we're back at the hotel, being fed the Truth by Fox News Channel (Greenpeace lies about global warming, I knew it!)

Peace out, man!