San Francisco Sights: Part I

Golden Gate Bridge

In my last post I introduced my sister's surprise visit. Sherron, my niece, was excited to see our city by the bay and suggested a double-decker bus tour, but after I checked prices, and Dave's willingness to drive, we decided to take the mini-van. Dave's knowledge of the city (he was born there) would suffice for tour guide. On the agenda: Fisherman's Wharf, China Town, and Lombard Street. The Golden Gate Bridge drenched in sunlight, also a must-see, was an inspiring start to our afternoon. I shot a quick picture through the windshield to catch a wisp of cloud.

Lombard Street

First up, or should I say down, Lombard, once we located the tippy-top cross street. Dave finally asked a local for directions after several failed attempts of extracting the information from memory. What a view from atop this Russian Hill neighborhood before our van tip-toed through the switch-backs lurching along like a stalled roller coaster. Perfectly groomed houses with trim yards, marching tourists, and too many cameras, had us wondering what life might be like for those that lived indoors. Did they ever tire of lookie loos?

Onward to Fisherman's Wharf in search of our lunch and more with our much loved tour guide. He steered the van precariously through the city pointing out buildings he had worked on as a cement mason in his former life. Quite interesting, Dave! We found parking, a miracle, and Sherron found what she had been wishing for among the food vendors, and barking attendants, a sourdough bread bowl filled with clam chowder. "What my niece wants, she shall have," I proclaimed.

With steaming bowls we headed in the direction of Pier 39. There didn't seem to be any tables nearby, so when I spotted an empty bench we all sat down to feast, and immediately Nan reached around to strip off her sweater. In the process, she knocked Sherron's hunk of bread off her cardboard tray. It flipped to the ground. "GEEEEZ Mom!" Sherron said. I think this quote is a cleaned up version of what she really said, but I couldn't hear well.

Alcatraz Island

And so we began to feast not knowing that very soon there would be a line forming in front of us full of excited tourists speaking in foreign tongues, German or Scandinavian (I’m no expert). They waited to board a boat to Alcatraz Island. We ate, they watched. One woman with wire-rimmed glasses stared so intently at me, while I spooned my soup, that I almost offered her my leftovers. I ate quickly.

Stay tuned for more.