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Published: March 24th 2008
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San Francisco
Transamerica Pyramid. A handy land mark for the office. One of my goals during my two and a half week trip was to venture north to experience San Francisco, a city that had always been close to the top of my visiting wish list for what seemed like forever. I had planned to make the journey alone but as luck would have it Phil had a business meeting scheduled there for Friday afternoon and so consequently, at 6.45am, we bid adios to Jon and a snoring Moose and headed to Orange County Airport, half an hour's drive south to catch the one hour flight to 'Frisco and by 11.30 were supping coffee in the downtown SF offices of Faithfull and Gould, Phil's current and my prospective employers. After meeting some of Pip's colleagues, sampling their coffee and raiding the boiled sweet jar on reception which ensured I left with pockets bulging I headed off alone to explore the City arranging with Phil to return at six o'clock.
Considerately the offices were situated right across the street from the Transamerica Pyramid, a huge snow white winged tower standing on a complex arrangement of concrete legs designed with the area's infamous earthquakes in mind and reputed to be in the top
San Francisco
The twin peaks of the Church of St Peter and Paul. five likely terrorist targets in the States which dominates the city skyline and which acted as as good a landmark for finding my way back home as I could have asked for.
For the next six and a half hours I walked, starting as a result of misreading my street map at Waterfront Pier 1 and following the curved Embarcadero that hugs the shoreline warehouses, ferry and cruise ship terminals and piers past Fisherman's Wharf, the twee tacky touristy development of gift shops and themed restaurants with it's seals basking in the winter sun and around the to the breakwater at Aquatic Park for the best possible view of Alcatraz and the Golden Gate that time would allow before heading into the city for a first proper look at the San Francisco that I was expecting. No Manhattan tower blocks here, just low level architecture and wonderfully colourful timber buildings erected on steep almost vertical hills up which struggled the cities infamous cable cars.
As we had emerged from the metro system Phil had pointed out the Coit Tower standing proudly atop Telegraph Hill and described it as along with the pyramid one of the cities major landmarks,
San Francisco
Seals basking off Pier 39. it's elevated position ensuring it remained in sight at all times. I thought it's lofty perch would make it unlikely I'd get to see it close up but having been attracted by the white granite twin peaks of Saints Peter and Paul Church that faces onto Washington Square I soon found myself at the bottom of that very hill and decided I just had to risk cardiac arrest and go up. Whilst not the most beautiful of buildings, 210 feet of unpainted reinforced concrete seeing to that, the spectacular panoramic views of everything the City had to offer made the energy sapping climb worthwhile.
San Francisco, whose climate is strongly influenced by the cool currents of the Pacific Ocean which surround it on three sides suffers a perplexing climate change from adjacent neighbouring areas so that when much of the surrounding inland areas are basking in warm winter sunshine San Fran' will be registering temperatures a good fifteen degrees cooler and by 5pm as darkness fell on Union Square and the cities workers scurried to pick up their last minute Xmas shopping in their overcoats, hats and scarves I found myself once again rueing my decision to don my
San Francisco
Through the arched window. Downtown SF from the Coit Tower. shorts with temperatures approaching zero.
We were staying courtesy of Phil's company in the lap of £200 a night luxury, the majestic centennial celebrating Fairmont Hotel atop Nob Hill acting as home. The bathroom alone was the size of a large lounge and a quick shower and change later and we were heading off for a night on the town meeting up with a few of Pip's colleagues en route. It was 2.30am and a pasta in squid ink dinner and a bath of alocohol later when we finally fell into our pits, not very clever considering the morning hour of our return flight to LA and with it the necessity to request a 5.45am wake up call. It felt like I was stepping out of some sort of surreal dream when the call came and the soft and what seemed given the hour unnaturally chirpy sound of a woman's voice worked it's way through to my brain. She told me in a cheerful, almost enthusiastic way that only an American could that it was time to get up so I thanked her, replaced the receiver and promptly headed straight back to the land of nod. I woke an
San Francisco
The Gull and The Golden Gate. hour and a half later, turned to see Phil lying prone on his back exhaling loudly and woke him to break the news.
Fortunately for us, me in particular, when we finally arrived at Oakland Airport and explained our plight to the check in girl we were told we would have to buy another ticket and that it would only cost us all of 51 Dollars (25 quid) and when we finally touched down in Orange County the warm winter sun ensured that for once shorts were the correct attire.
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San Fran.
Your photographic skills are improving Piggie!