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July 5th 2009 Punished by poor planning After a quick dash through Yosemite (I will definitely be back for a longer visit one day), Alex and I wended our way down out of the mountains, through the peach orchards of central California and pushed on into San Francisco. Coming over the Bay Bridge was quite spectacular, even with the city being shrouded in the inevitable mist. Ethereal. We headed straight to the waterfront to check out tickets for trips to Alcatraz. In a shocking display of planning oversight (Alex and I are both keen planners), it turns out we missed the boat: there weren’t any tickets available for the next two days. As consolation we found a cute bar (Alex, name?) on the water and ordered a couple of beers. But not before we dropped off our things at the Green Tortoise hostel, our home in San Francisco. Despite being wedged between multiple lusty lady ‘dance’ clubs on the edge of Chinatown, the hostel is also just a 10 minute walk to the waterfront. It looks like a fun place for single travellers and 19 year old antipodeans; we were just thankful for two beds and surprisingly clean showers.
Okay, back to the beers. Finished them off quite rapidly, mainly because it was so darned cold in San Francisco. We left Lee Vining that morning with the temperature in the 100s, arriving to 60C in San Francisco. We were both convulsing with cold just walking from the bar to the restaurant for dinner. What started out as a pleasant evening turned into possibly our best night out. Alex, being the world’s greatest fan of martinis, spied
Martuni’s, a piano bar claiming to pour the best martinis in the world. Our dodgy Ukranian taxi driver dropped us off on the corner of 11th and something outside the inconspicuous bar. Walking in, I think we were both disappointed - the front room was a regular bar with people sitting, drinking, chatting quietly. Going through to the second lounge, though, we knew we had found a real gem: Monday is open mike night at Martuni’s with superbly talented local music students coming to sing along with Ric (I think that was his name!), the brilliant pianist. It didn’t take long or many drinks to get Alex up singing something from
Joseph. Me? Not having sung in public for 12 years, it took
a few more drinks to get up the courage. Sadly closing time came round just as we were really getting into it. For anyone going to San Francisco who loves musicals, Monday nights at Martuni’s is a must.
Architectural hangovers Having missed our trip to Alcatraz, we scoured the guidebooks to find something equally cultural to do with the rest of our time in the city. A tour of San Francisco’s Victorian homes seemed to fit the bill. Thus, with hangovers and large cups of coffee, we trekked across town to meet our fascinating tour guide, whose name escapes me. A fountain of knowledge, Mrs Tour Guide was also intent on stating the bloody obvious. For example, ‘please remember to look down when you are walking, the pavements are uneven’. Or my favourite, ‘I will let you know when to get off the bus’. Well, of course you will otherwise you won’t have a tour and won’t get paid. Her schoolmistress exterior quickly fractured to reveal a quirky sense of humour and, as I already mentioned, an extensive knowledge of the history and architecture of San Francisco.
In summary (just to prove that Alex and I don’t just
drink and stalk celebrities when we are on holiday but are also very cultural), most of the Victorian homes in San Francisco were destroyed as a result of the 1906 earthquake. It was not the earthquake but the resultant fires started by broken gas pipes which raised most of downtown San Francisco to the ground. The fire was finally stopped in its tracks when the city decided to dig a huge ditch along Van Ness (Alex??), pulling down all the mansions on the street with no compensation for the owners. San Franciscan Victorian homes come in three architectural styles:
1)Italianate: angled bay windows, facades at the top of the building and rounded windows.
2)Stick: box bay windows, more ornate decoration than the Italianate style with more colours.
3)Queen Anne: identified by the presence of either a turret or a window at the front of the roof.
Of course there are also hybrids which combine different styles and throw you for a fruit loop. We certainly learnt a lot on the tour, but the best bit was seeing the house used in the 1990s series
Party of Five and for Robin William’s film,
Mrs Doubtfire!
We finished off
the day with a strenuous bike ride over the Golden Gate Bridge and down into Sausalito. I keep trying the cycling thing, but it’s just not for me. Except when going downhill which is fun and no work at all.
Au revoir, Alex One day (I have absolutely no idea which day is which), I braved San Francisco traffic. What an absolute nightmare city to drive in. L.A. was so much easier. Here, Chinese one way streets: you get caught going round and round the block in Chinatown. I appeal to each and every one of you never to drive in downtown San Francisco. Even the GPS, Pamela - bless her cotton socks - got her knickers in a twist. The screen just stuck with the car doing 90 degree turns, ‘turn right, turn right, turn right, turn right’. She was so relieved to get outta there…..
Dropping Alex off at the airport (sniff, sniff), I headed back home to Milpitas for a day to do laundry. Well, actually I didn’t laundry but I did feel like I was home for the uni holidays. Very lovely and strange at the same time.
Catch you later, California The
time came - after a whole month in the state - to leave California. I must say that I feel like I have seen the whole country already. California has every landscape imaginable: coast, desert, orchards, mountains, cities. I can’t quite get my head around the fact that I still have so much to see. It’s awesome. Leaving behind Milpitas, I headed north for probably my longest single journey - San Francisco to Seattle in two days. It’s about 800 miles. But what an amazing drive! Stopping briefly in the wine country to meet Auntie Holly’s first husband’s niece(!), Pat in Petaluma was lovely. If you are ever in Petaluma, drop by Flippers for lunch. It’s at the back of the Golden Goose (or maybe Eagle??!) shopping centre about a mile of highway (hwy) 101. Completely unremarkable on the outside, the back of the restaurant opens out onto a beautiful deck over the river. And the best food I have had since Nobu! Thanks Pat and Spring!
Leaving Petaluma, I turned to Pamela (the GPS) for directions. They were simple. ‘In one mile turn left (onto hwy 101), then continue 291 miles’. Yep, I had 291 miles to drive
on the SAME road to reach my destination. Fortunately, hwy 101 is a dream to drive - it appears to be the only road in California which had been resurfaced in the past twenty years - with jaw-dropping scenery to boot. The scorched pastures of Southern California were gradually replaced by lush, rolling hills covered with pine, and later redwood, trees. I declined to stop in Willits (a town recommended by Auntie Shirley), wanting to push on. What a mistake! Willits looks like a lovely, arty town. I stopped instead in Leggett, a rival for Barstow in the title of armpit of the world. It boasts a world-famous redwood tree that you can drive through. And apparently nothing else. Or maybe I didn’t actually find the town. Not somewhere I would recommend stopping. Still, they had ice cold drinks which was a welcome relief as the temperature was in the high 90s for most of the day.
The miles ticked by for a few more hours. With the breathtaking scenery, a small selection of CDs and about 76,000 litres of iced coffee, I happily drove onwards, inventing a new game of seeing how quickly I could spot a highway
patrol car (they like to hide in California and catch you whizzing by). Having gone through yet another town called Windsor, making a little excursion to Trinidad (bet you didn’t know Trinidad was in Northern California?), waving salutations at the residents of Lee Valley (the supposed grass seed capital of the world) and visiting Orick, home to the world’s tallest trees (am I wrong to question this title? Surely there are taller trees in the Amazon?), I pulled into the delightful hostel in Klamath just as the light was fading and the ‘ground clouds’ were settling in for the night.
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Auntie T
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You have a wonderful way with words, Jen. You're really bringing this whole trip to life for those of us 'left behind'. It hardly seems possible that you've been galivanting for a month already. Such sights you have seen. It's such fun following along in your wake, as it were. Keep the missives - and the photos - coming! xoxoxo