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| 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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
