San Francisco Tourism Day

Well, it's summer in northern California. This means the coast is liable to be quite a bit cooler than inland, where I'm staying. 20 degrees F or thereabouts. Which makes planning a day trip to SF tricky. Instead we relied on luck, and the lady delivered in spades. As we drove out of sunny Gatos, we saw the fog looming on the horizon. Here we go, San Fogcisco: Bundle up and be prepared to lose digits in the bitter cold.

I was wearing shorts and Air-Tex top, in defiance. I mean, how bad can it be?

Well, we drive into the looming fog, off come my sunglasses and the polariser filter on my camera. But as we see the San Francisco skyline, the fog clears up and the blue sky dominates once more. We parket at Pier 31 and walked around to Pier 39 and Fisherman's Wharf.

Lunch in Bubba Gump - crappy themed restaurant but nice Cajun Shrimp. The film, Forrest Gump was on constant repeat, and there were several inane references to it dotted about the place. The "Run Forrest, Run!" / "Stop Forrest, Stop!" license-plate-flipchart method of flagging down a waiter, I found particularly noteworthy.

Rainforest - a rainforsest-themed shop with RainForest in its name. A girl says to her friend "Uh, it looks just like a rain forest" as they walk in.

Funny Chinese man on the beach - Jumped onto the sand fully clothed and made himself a bed in the sand.

Cyclists at Fort Mason - too steep for the amateurs, as they get off and walk

411 guy and the motel - We asked a man in the street for directions to the crookedest street, oh and by the way, a local Bank of America. He dialled 411 to try to locate one, then took us to a nearby motel so he could look through a phone directory, only to be stalled by the "Manager of the Year" who was being extra helpful to some biddies who wanted to know how to get cheap liquor. When he finally got round to helping us, he told us about the one round the corner, up two blocks on Union.

Walking up Lombard was a challenge - met surprisingly well by Angie, who it transpires, does 20 minutes of skipping every Wednesday.

The World's Crookedest Street

Chinatown - First, we went into a Chinese food store. Angie was reluctant to go in at first, but her eyes lit up when she spied Maltesers on a shelf at the back of the store. Maltesers are hard to come by in this part of the world. I asked at the counter for peanut butter pretzels, and while they'd heard of them, they didn't stock them. It was a long shot, but worth a try. I did, however, find my favourite chilli oil: Amoy Guilin Chilli Sauce, which is now in my suitcase ready for importation.

Almond Jelly woman - another example of the helpful culture here on the west coast was to be had in this shop, when at the counter, I spotted Almond Jelly in the itinerary of my checkout successor. I asked her about it, and she told me it was "So good". I asked her which aisle she found it on, and she went and got me a can. You try replicating that behaviour in New York. Succeed, and I'll bet you've chanced upon a Californian on vacation.

Directed in Chinese - Almond Jelly Woman told us where to go for some of the less touristy Chinese restaurants, and while she put us in the right direction, the finer details were lost on us. We started asking people in stores, before settling for some chinese lettering, written on a receipt, that we could pattern-match against restaurant signs in the street. This lettering signified the Great Eastern Restaurant.

Mongolian Beef - Perhaps the best Chinese meal I've ever had. The Mongolian Beef was a triumph, while the seemingly overpriced King Prawn flied lice was in fact seriously underpriced at $10 - a huge portion absolutely teeming with the little undersea critters. I stuffed myself to the point of bulimia contemplation - if only to facilitate further gastronomic bliss. Poor Angie, not willing to try the scarier items on a menu where eye of toad with black bean sauce and wing of bat with ginger and spring onion would be met with comparative relief, opted for sweet and sour chicken and was suitably underwhelmed as a result.

When we left the restaurant, the fog had descended on the city, indicating home-time. Along with the fog came a significant drop in temperature, which added to our tiredness, sore feet, and in my case, uncomfortably distended stomach. A cab to the car, decadent as it may sound, was the only alternative, especially as we asked for directions back to Pier 31 and were pointed in the direction of a hill to rival Lombard's.