Day 21 – San Francisco, CA
Today was the day to take in the city. We drove straight to the Golden Gate Bridge, parked on the south end, and walked up and onto the bridge for a stretch. It was not the most leisurely stroll, as the walkway was congested with legions of bikers – most of them tourists on rented bikes – who were weaving in and out of the heavy pedestrian traffic. San Francisco, apparently, is still waiting for summer to come; it was cold and windy on the bridge, so we didn’t last long. The kids were excited to be able to say they’ve been on the Golden Gate Bridge, but they were also quite relieved to get back in the car.
Keith had scheduled a lunch date with his friend and former Junior Counselor at St. Olaf, Mark D., who works not far from Fisherman’s Wharf in San Francisco. So we dropped Keith off and said “hello” to Mark, and then Steve and the kids and I had our own lunch at a ’50s-style diner next door. After lunch, we walked down to the waterfront and discovered the San Francisco Maritime National Historical Park at the Hyde Street Pier, and another opportunity for Junior Ranger badges.
In the meantime, Keith and Mark had finished their lunch and stopped by the pier to pick up the kids for an impromptu and unauthorized tour of the George Lucas studios in the Presidio. Apparently they faked their way through security and got into the library for a photo-op next to a life-size Darth Vader figure. Steve and I strolled the Fisherman’s Wharf area with coffees, waiting for them to return, and when they did, Natalie and Charlie completed their JR badges and we toured a few of the historic boats that are part of the park, including the Balclutha, a 19th-century cargo sailing ship (fascinating!) and the Eureka, an 1890 side-wheel ferry that took passengers and automobiles across the bay before the existence of the Golden Gate Bridge.
From there, we walked up the street a few blocks, crammed ourselves onto a packed cable car and held on for our lives as it careened up and down the steep streets of San Francisco. After 10 days of hanging out around a campfire, we felt at home as the air was thick with the smell of scorched wood from the cable car’s woodblock brakes.
At the end of the line, we had to get off and figure out how we were going to get back to Fisherman’s Wharf; the line for the return trip looked to be at least an hour long. As we stood there discussing our options, we were accosted by a pan-handler who, for a tip, wanted to offer us his advice on how to get back, going on and on about the ins and outs of San Francisco transit, among other things, and then for some reason adding that he’s also a mathematics expert. He picked the wrong person to mention that to. I was ready to just turn and walk away, but my mild-mannered, soft-spoken math-expert brother shocked me by getting right in his face and saying, “Oh yeah? What kind of math do you do?” When he couldn’t give a straight answer, Steve kept pushing him – “No, really. What kind of math are you expert at?” – until finally he gave up and left us alone. I told Steve that I had never seen him confront anyone like that before, and he just said, “He was getting on my nerves.”
To avoid the wait for return cable cars, we walked a couple of blocks and then hopped on a full one and rode it back to the waterfront. We found the car and headed back to Berkeley, but not before getting stuck in a huge bottleneck in the city. Steve was finally able to navigate us around it, and we got back to his house in time to give the kids a quick PB&J supper before bed. Steve, of course, made another wonderful dinner for the grown-ups, and we stayed up too late again, chatting around the table.
Steve and Hélène have been such great, gracious hosts, and Steve has done an excellent job of taking us around to all the sights and moving along with all of us at a pace that, I’m sure, is much slower than he’s used to. Thank you, Steve, for all your patience! We are all having a fantastic time.
Today was the day to take in the city. We drove straight to the Golden Gate Bridge, parked on the south end, and walked up and onto the bridge for a stretch. It was not the most leisurely stroll, as the walkway was congested with legions of bikers – most of them tourists on rented bikes – who were weaving in and out of the heavy pedestrian traffic. San Francisco, apparently, is still waiting for summer to come; it was cold and windy on the bridge, so we didn’t last long. The kids were excited to be able to say they’ve been on the Golden Gate Bridge, but they were also quite relieved to get back in the car.
Keith had scheduled a lunch date with his friend and former Junior Counselor at St. Olaf, Mark D., who works not far from Fisherman’s Wharf in San Francisco. So we dropped Keith off and said “hello” to Mark, and then Steve and the kids and I had our own lunch at a ’50s-style diner next door. After lunch, we walked down to the waterfront and discovered the San Francisco Maritime National Historical Park at the Hyde Street Pier, and another opportunity for Junior Ranger badges.
In the meantime, Keith and Mark had finished their lunch and stopped by the pier to pick up the kids for an impromptu and unauthorized tour of the George Lucas studios in the Presidio. Apparently they faked their way through security and got into the library for a photo-op next to a life-size Darth Vader figure. Steve and I strolled the Fisherman’s Wharf area with coffees, waiting for them to return, and when they did, Natalie and Charlie completed their JR badges and we toured a few of the historic boats that are part of the park, including the Balclutha, a 19th-century cargo sailing ship (fascinating!) and the Eureka, an 1890 side-wheel ferry that took passengers and automobiles across the bay before the existence of the Golden Gate Bridge.
From there, we walked up the street a few blocks, crammed ourselves onto a packed cable car and held on for our lives as it careened up and down the steep streets of San Francisco. After 10 days of hanging out around a campfire, we felt at home as the air was thick with the smell of scorched wood from the cable car’s woodblock brakes.
At the end of the line, we had to get off and figure out how we were going to get back to Fisherman’s Wharf; the line for the return trip looked to be at least an hour long. As we stood there discussing our options, we were accosted by a pan-handler who, for a tip, wanted to offer us his advice on how to get back, going on and on about the ins and outs of San Francisco transit, among other things, and then for some reason adding that he’s also a mathematics expert. He picked the wrong person to mention that to. I was ready to just turn and walk away, but my mild-mannered, soft-spoken math-expert brother shocked me by getting right in his face and saying, “Oh yeah? What kind of math do you do?” When he couldn’t give a straight answer, Steve kept pushing him – “No, really. What kind of math are you expert at?” – until finally he gave up and left us alone. I told Steve that I had never seen him confront anyone like that before, and he just said, “He was getting on my nerves.”
To avoid the wait for return cable cars, we walked a couple of blocks and then hopped on a full one and rode it back to the waterfront. We found the car and headed back to Berkeley, but not before getting stuck in a huge bottleneck in the city. Steve was finally able to navigate us around it, and we got back to his house in time to give the kids a quick PB&J supper before bed. Steve, of course, made another wonderful dinner for the grown-ups, and we stayed up too late again, chatting around the table.
Steve and Hélène have been such great, gracious hosts, and Steve has done an excellent job of taking us around to all the sights and moving along with all of us at a pace that, I’m sure, is much slower than he’s used to. Thank you, Steve, for all your patience! We are all having a fantastic time.
No comments:
Post a Comment