USA 6 ( I love the gallery...)

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My appetite has returned with a vengeance. I guess I must have loitered around the common room for about an hour or so, drinking coffee and stuffing may face with 'Sea Salt & Malt Vinegar' Kettle chips before Max and Charlie are up and ready to leave. Today we are going to SOMA (San Francisco Museum of Modern Art) but not before I've eaten a proper cooked meal. Fortunately my colleagues are in agreement with this diagnosis, except Nathan who is not going to be coming with us today.

We head into the bowels of San Francisco, where all the hills descend onto the archetypal city centre with shops, theatres, concrete & glass facia's (as opposed to the plaster frontage of China town or the Wooden panelling of the North & West Beach) and a plethora of food outlets. We hesitate ridiculously before plumping for something we assume the natives might go for. We are not disappointed. The place resembles some pre-war hotel lobby with high ceilings and grand paintings. The clientele seems slightly down trodden but the food is suitably greasy and we make the most of the ubiquitous free refill policy. And then off to SOMA.

I can't imagine that describing any museum is particularly enthralling for either author or reader so I shan't. Needless to say that the building itself was impressive and that I came out being a big fan of Mark Rothko, of whom I had been previously rather sceptical. His paintings may not be as sententious as many of his contemporaries but his experiments with colour have impact and stand out for their anachronism. Their scale is daunting and viewed from an angle have the power to disorient. Rothko rocks.
The place starts to get a little oppressive after a while. I suspect I am a little dehydrated.

On our return to the hostel we discover the staff are laying on a free spread. It's basic fare but probably the most nutritional thing I have eaten all week. What's more it's free.
And then off to Vesuvio and... where next? We play it by ear but decide that we've probably exhausted 'the strip' so head to mad Phil's in Haight Ashbury for tips. We stay for a few drinks and get a tip off that Lower Haight is where it's at. Another cab and... nothing. What was that woman talking about? Oh well... there's always Delirium.
On Friday a self confessed Anglophile plays an eclectic range of Punk and New Wave. He will even put on The Fall's 'Terry Waite Sez' on request. It is here that I discover the joys of Jonathan Richman and the Modern Lovers for the first time. What can I say... if you are ever in the area go check out Delirium.

http://www.beerintheevening.com/pubs/show.shtml/7229/Delirium/San_Francisco

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