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Published: October 15th 2006
I woke up with just enough time to put on some clothes and scrape on down to the free breakfast that the hostel offered before 10am. Toasted jam sandwiches with a nice cup of OJ, what a great way to start the day!
I was really eager to check out the Alcatraz tour, as there were a few girls at work who had been there and done that, and really loved it. To get down to the Bay, I could have caught a cab or there was the ever famous San Francisco Cable Car, which was packed with Sunday tourists, but I managed to squeeze onto one of them on a harrowing ride up and down some of San Fran’s steepest hills. The views were amazing both over the city and over the bay.
I got down to Pier 33 and I saw a lot of placards and protesters outside the pier that I needed to be at. There were whistles and megaphones and people handing out pamphlets on the street. I walked up to one of the protesters to find out what was going on.
“What is this, some kind of picket line?”
“You betcha”, the
San Fran Cable Car
It was so easy just to jump on and off!older lady said, “Some of these guys had jobs for over 23 years and then they had the rug pulled out under ‘em. Are you going to Alcatraz today?”
“Well I was gonna, but I ain’t crossing the picket line”
“Good!”
The older lady grabbed my hand and took me to the man on the megaphone. She whispered a few things to him and then the man with the megaphone put his hand on my shoulder and made an announcement to all the picketers.
“ATTENTION EVERYBODY! We have got a brother all the way from Australia, who has decided to support us workers by not going on the boat today. SHAME ON ALL YOU OTHER PEOPLE GOING TODAY. ITS NOT TOO LATE TO GET YOUR MONEY BACK”
Everyone started clapping and while other bewildered tourists filed past without any concern for the protesters, I felt I could at least do my bit for these poor people. I chatted with a few of them as they marched in a circle out the front of Pier 33. Some had jobs for many years, only for the National Parks and Wildlife Service to give the contract to some other company
The view inside a cable car
and it was very busy today! who replaced these experienced deck hands with cheap labour. There were casual workers who only worked the boats as a weekend job without any real knowledge or passion for their job. At the same time I drew parallels with the people I spoke to about the situation back home, but I wished them all the very best and continued on my merry way, happy that I had not upset these genuine people.
I joined the throngs of people on Pier 39 looking at the tacky souvenir shops and fast food outlets, taking the time to simultaneously farewell and curse the people on the boat leaving for Alcatraz. The 1pm service set due course and I set my own course for a sports store that sold a lot of sporting apparel, especially NFL apparel. I bought a Kansas City Chiefs shirt as well as an Oregon Athletics shirt and almost bought more, had temptation had its way.
Since it was the last stop for me, I had to load up on tacky souvenirs as much as I can. I bought my older sister a heap of snowdomes as well as fridge magnets and keyrings for the rest of the
family. One shop was so tacky, it was called “Treasure Ireland”.
Some of the sea lions thought that Pier 39 was Treasure Island for them. They congregated on floating barges near the pier and a lot of people were fascinated at their obnoxious belches and how they rolled over as if they were intoxicated. Others just preferred to rest together and share body warmth amongst themselves, with the odd sea lion diving in to the bay.
The line for the cable car back downtown was very long but a street entertainer kept us amused with his routine act of slipping out of a set of chains he put himself in. I was treated to this show twice as I had to wait in line for over an hour. At least I wasn’t in a rush anywhere.
On the way back, the cable car licked the outer bowl of Chinatown before I got off at the corner of O’ Farrell and Powell. I set my sights on the Disney store a block up in my quest to obtain a Mickey Mouse watch for my mum, but all I could find were Ariel and
Toy Story watches, which I
The picket line @ Pier 33
I had a moral obligation to these people! don’t think my mum would want. I walked out empty handed of the store and then walked empty stomached to a pizza store and sat down to contemplate today over a big fat slice of pizza. I was suddenly reminded of that fantastic pizza that I had in NYC and this slice was just not up to par.
I stopped off at a corner store and bought some Kool Aid to take home, only to come outside and avoid a lady lying down on the ground who had just overdosed on drugs. There was a policeman checking her out and only half a block up, there were people peddling the drugs and doing deals right here in broad daylight. I suddenly felt really wary of these streets and the words uttered to me by the guy at the hostel front desk, I just had to make sure I got back there and settle in for a really quiet night.
In my 4-bed dorm, there were two guys who were still sleeping from when I left this morning, even though it was nearly 6pm in the evening! One of them had just flown in from Austria and had already
So long, Alcatraz!
I watched my boat sail away due course for Alcatraz...my good deed for the day (and maybe the trip!) remarked that people has been asking him about kangaroos. I told him that no one had asked me yet about the Alps. The other was a guy who went out partying all night but he is paying for it now. He is studying at UCLA and it’s really hard for him to study at all because he’s in and out of hostels and his partying doesn’t help him that much, either. Study Boy decides to go for a jog up to Fisherman’s Wharf and back, which is at least a mile and a half, not counting the many hills up and down he’s gotta do and the crack dealers he’ll have to scoot past just outside. The Austrian decides he wants to go out and I wish him the best of luck with it.
With my final proper night in the USA, I ring Lottie in Portland and we chat for over an hour. I miss the girl. I tell her how excited I am to have bought an O’s (Oregon Athletics) shirt and by talking to her even more, I delay the inevitable fact that I need to pack my bags for the final time. However, I’ve probably
Pier 39
And some of the yachts here...HELLO LAYDEEZ!!! bored the poor girl to death about my travels and its time to do what I’ve done every time, the night before I leave for a new destination.
The routine is to take out EVERYTHING and to pack it tighter than it was pulled out, as there were new things always going in. The first thing to go in is the cardboard box that once contained 45 packets of biscuits that I originally bought in Portland. This now serves as a holding point for all souvenirs. Only this time, all souvenirs are itemized by place of purchase as well as intended recipient. The next item to fit in is my Kappa shoes, still damp from Niagara Falls. I have an urge to leave them behind but I decide to take them home. The only things I want to leave behind (apart from my first Credit Card) are memories and impressions upon everyone that I have come across. Next to go in are my pants, followed by Baz (who is ever expanding) and then jackets, especially handy in the cold Canadian weather experienced at the end of last week.
My backpack gets the same treatment now, only the dirty
Treasure Ireland
...get it? hahaha... clothing will go in first. There is quite a bit since I haven’t done any laundry since being at Dani’s place, however Readers I can assure you that I have plenty of clean clothes and undies to get by! Next to fit into my backpack are all of my shirts, followed by socks and underwear. I use my toiletries before fitting them into another compartment of my backpack. The front section of my backpack detaches to form a daypack, which I take around every day on my daily travels and is adequate to carry my
Lonely Planet, or
The Rough Guide to Canada, depending on what country I was in, appropriate day maps and tour guides, digital camera, lunch for the day and Kaz the Kangaroo. This is the daypack that required stitching up in LA as well as Fort Lauderdale.
The whole routine usually takes about 20-30 minutes but tonight, it takes a good hour of my time. Study Boy told me that if he wasn’t back within two hours, then I should call the police. But I make sure the front desk knows he has gone for a jog before I head back upstairs and enjoy my
last sleep on USA soil.
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