San Francisco - Part 3

I start this post in a phenomenally bad mood – having just finished typing it and then losing it. Bloody stupid Blogger. And what I’d written was so insightful, witty and elegant. You’ll need to trust me on that because the spark has gone and all I can hope for now is insipid, tedious and ungainly.

So where was I? I recall three final highlights from San Francisco – in no particular order.

Firstly (remembering this is in no order), we discovered Ghirardelli chocolate. More importantly, we discovered that Ghirardelli were running a promotion and handing out free chocolate squares as we entered the store. Now, I like to think that I enjoy chocolate as much as the next guy, but I have no idea who the next guy is. What I don’t believe is that I like chocolate as much as the next girl – particularly if the next girl is Suzy. Anyway, I still prefer good old Cadbury with its glass and a half of full cream milk in every 200 gram block. However, I would never knock back a free chocolate, and so we made sure to visit all three of the stores within Ghirardelli square and accept our free chocolates in each. The kids made sure to complete this circuit many times during our stay.

Secondly (still in no order), we visited Alcamatraz. And how is it that the officialdom of nomenclature overlooked that middle syllable? Two little letters that alone may be baby’s first word, yet in Alcatraz can raise a word from a bit of fun phonetic frottage to an exquisite oral joy. Let’s say it together now – Alcamatraz. And I have Jesamine to thank for introducing me to this pleasure, just as you may now thank me.

We were ferried across to the Rock, where we toured the old prison with our audio guide headsets. I’ve not had a lot of experience with audio guides, but I’ve heard enough to know that this was particularly good. The narrations are provided by ex-guards and inmates, with a backdrop of prison sounds creating an immersive experience.

One particular joy was a woman who was clearly not a regular user of headphones, shouting to her husband “Are you up to the bit about the spaghetti?” We knew she was shouting. He knew she was shouting. But she had headphones on.

Third of the unordered highlights - Jesamine had her portrait sketched by a street artist in the Fisherman's wharf area. Not a particularly good likeness, but it was cheap (though of course not as cheap as the signs would have us believe). Which reminds me, when we unpacked our bags in San Diego, the clay portrait Connick had done at Santa Monica was broken - despite being wrapped in an almost full roll of toilet paper. Bummer.

And now, some final observations from San Francisco:

• I saw quite a few Prius taxis
• Some of the police cars were in pretty poor condition
• The buses are insufficient for the patronage they attract. We waited at one stop and watched 3 buses drive past because they were too full to pick us up. We then missed our stop getting off because we couldn't push through the crowd to reach the doors in the 15 seconds that the bus stopped.

We finished our San Franciso visit as it began - at the Les Joulins Jazz Bistro on Ellis St. It was not the same band as on our first night, and they were late arriving. Imagine my disappointment when the piano player turned out to be the same hack from our first night. Strangely, he played better, but the band didn't work together at all. The food was still great though.

This concludes another leg of our epic adventure. Next stop, the Big Apple.