Continuing adventures in San Francisco

In a continuing series of vacations, xxxx and I flew to San Francisco
for the weekend.

We took an 8pm flight to SFO and caught a cab to the Hotel. We were
staying at a fancy French-named hotel near the embarcadero on Clay St.
Giving the name and address to the cabbie was shockingly easy. I
wonder how they really know where everything is without a map. This
guy probably does nothing but drive back and forth between the airport
and hotels in the city. He was also a maniac with the gas pedal,
exceeding 80 miles per hour most of the way. Which was fine by us, as
it was late and we would like to get to the hotel as soon as possible.

Unfortunately, when we got off near 4th street (near AT&T park), we
ran into a huge crowd exiting the game. All the roads were blocked off
as well. We had to detour a bit up to Market St to Kearney, then back
down Clay. xxxx noted the street name (Kearney) because her friend had
recommended "the best" chinese food at a restaurant there. We resolved
to go back to find it. The cab ended up to cost almost $45 with tip; I
was rather upset to pay that amount when a shuttle or train should
have been suitable for much less.

The next morning, we stumbled across the street to Elephant and
Castle, an english pub which had been recommended by the hotel staff.
It was absolutely horrible food for hugely expensive cost. The quote-
unquote "banger" was actually American pork sausage, the bacon was
simple American bacon, and the potatoes were bland boring blocks. We
decided not to go there again. We went around the corner to one of the
millions of Starbuck's located on every single corner and got some
coffee to start the day fresh.

We walked about two blocks south through some dreary unkempt parks,
trying to avoid the hundreds of horribly dirty filthy homeless people
that would become regular sights on our trip. We reached Embarcadero
square a few blocks south of the hotel, somewhat impressed by the
square's fresh hip vibe and the rather interesting concrete and water
feature structure. Across the sqare was the San Francisco port at
which xxxx and I queued up for the F bus to visit Fisherman's wharf.

Something must have been amiss because we spent the better part of an
hour waiting for the bus that should run every ten minutes or more.
The wait was so long, we actually watched crowds of fellow tourists
show up, wait for a length of time and then leave. Eventually, a rail
bus did come by, but it was jammed so full that it never stopped. That
caused a loud row among the waiting tourists and most of them left
after that. We still waited at least another 20 minutes before another
bus showed up. I found that strange for 9:30 am on a Saturday morning,
but it might be normal. Little did we know this would be a premonition
of our public transport problems.

A word on the weather. I was not foolish enough to think that just
because the city is technically part of California that it must be
warm and sunny. I have actually been to San Francisco a few times
before and know that it can be quite damp and cold. But waiting for
the rail bus that morning, I was glad that I had worn a warm wind
breaker with hood for my head and ears. Whenever the wind picked up
off the bay, it was like cutting ice on your face -- and it couldn't
have been much colder than 69 degrees or so. Something about the
humidity and cold and fog and damp that just bites hard.

Eventually, the rail bus showed up and we paid $3.00 to travel to the
Fisherman's wharf. We got down with the rest of the tourists at Wharf
39, which was horribly touristy and tacky with shops and horrible
looking food choices. I wanted to leave the area, but xxxx egged me on
and we finally arrived at the end of Wharf 39 and were treated to the
famous spectualar view of Alcatraz island and the bay. This was an
example of how the best experiences in travel come free, although you
have to press through the horrible, gaudy tourist **** to get to it.
We walked around the corner to look at the sea lions, which were few
but neat to see. Walking back along the "back side" of the wharf, we
were able to avoid the touristy crap and continue strolling.

We saw a few of the crab shacks that I had wanted to try, with
hundreds of identical dead dungeness crabs piled upside down on ice. I
actually decided I wanted to try some oysters on the half shell so we
stopped at one shack and asked what kind of oysters they had. The man
shrugged and said "Regular oysters." So I ordered three to get a taste
for them. He shucked and served them to me on a paper tray. For $4, it
was either going to be good or discarded, I thought. I figured I could
just stand at the counter and eat them right there.

So I sucked down the first oyster and was pleasantly surprised. It
wasn't the best oyster I've ever had, but it was extremely briny or
salty and that is my type of oyster. I would say in fact, that most
people would not like the oysters I had. But they were good to me and
I enjoyed it. Now, after I had sucked down the first oyster, a clique
of tourists had shown up, watching me. I think they were interested in
what we were doing, and I believe they were trying to see what the
crab shacks were like. So, while I sucked the second oyster off the
half shell, a crowd had started to form to watch me eat. I was
thinking, "Get off me you ******s." xxxxx was getting uncomfortable
with me as I always attract attention, all 6'4" amazononian blonde
doing crazy ****. But I wasn't doing anything more than eating oysters
off the half-shell.

I was able to slug the last one down, but xxx and I cleaned up the
stand-up counter quickly and ran off. I believe the curiosity and
crowd was only people who were trying to gauge the crab shacks and
trying to decide what kind of lunch to take. I guess that if I were to
survive the oysters and actually enjoy them, then they felt safe to go
eat lunch at the shack. It was just before lunch time and so they were
probably milling about trying to find a place to eat. I hope.

So we continued strolling along the bay and walked up to the the
curved break water area that was billed as a "beach". If this was a
beach, then my name is Sam Peckinpaw and I'm a famous director. The
"beach" consisted of four small steps down to a four foot section of
drab sand leading directly into the frigid, grey green waters of the
bay. There were several idiots swimming laps in the water, and I don't
know what kind of sick masochist you have to be to swim in those
waters.

We wandered a bit up the hill to the Ghirardelli square but weren't
interested. We just went back to the trolley car station which was our
original target. I purchased two tickets for $5 each and noticed xxxx
standing in a huge line that wrapped around the turn-around for the
cars. I asked her what was about and she noted that there were several
cars sitting around queued up but they weren't running. Apparently,
some road work or track work was being performed and so everything was
being held up. We waited for the better part of 2 hours in the queue
to get on the trolley cars which were only running whenever the road
or track construction crew would move out of the way to let one car
past. It was entertaining (once) to watch the cars coasting by gravity
into the turnaround platform, watching the conductor get out and push
with brute force the cars to turn on the platform. Once the car had
been rotated through 300 degrees or so, the car would then be pushed
with brute force on the new outbound track.

During the wait in the queue, we got to enjoy a relatively clean bum
who was playing amplified guitar music and singing. He wasn't terrible
and the music was mildly diverting. He occasionally went off on
amplified tangent conversations with fellow bums who were nearby. The
only part that was amusing was that only his end of the conversation
was mic'ed so that we were hearing only his portion of the comments.
xxxx felt sorry and she took out $1 to place in his guitar case as we
went past to board the car. I told her not to support these folks,
that if people wouldn't pay them money, then they wouldn't bloody sit
out there and bother the good tourist folks with mediocre-to-good
music and half conversational banter. She gave him the dollar anyway
as we moved onto the car.

Suffice to say that the trolley car was an exceptional track if only
for the amazing views it offered of the city. Taking the photos at the
top of Lombard Dr. is not to be missed. Unfortunately, we purchased
the one-way tickets which don't allow one to hop on-and-off. For only
$11 (each) you can get the all-day ticket and jump on and off to stop
and look around. We didn't have the time or inclination to do so, but
it's probably well worth it for some others.

Eventually, we got down near Stockton to go to chinatown. The place is
a lot bigger and toursity-er than I had rememebered it from previous
visits. At this point of the day, we were well past noon and getting
fairly hungry. But xxxxxx and I weren't going to jump into the first
place offering food. We wanted to find the same little dim sum
restaurant we had discovered 8 years ago when we had visited
previously. We were able to retrace our steps at the parking station
with the park, but were completely unable to find any landmarks or
restaurant names that were familiar. We eventually settled into Great
Eastern Restuarant which looked quite good and was fairly clean. Even
though it looked a bit clean and was Zagat rated (which is not always
a good sign), it was stocked with authentic chinese waiters and
maitres-d', as well as plenty of non-english speaking authentic
customers.

We ordered several pieces of dim sum and enjoyed all of them. The dim
sum wasn't served in the usual style on carts; instead you order them
on a piece of paper and they are delivered to your table. However, the
trade-off is that you get the food a lot hotter and "wetter" than
normal, still dripping with the steaming the food had been through. It
was quite good and has become our new place to go; our little secret
restaurant that means something only to us if/when we return some day.

As we were wandering the gaudy goods shops, we went into a video store
that sold foreign asian videos. xxxxx was acting very strangely so I
eventually asked her what was going on. She was all excited and asking
me if I remembered "that guy from VH1". I was wondering what "guy"?
There are hundreds of them. She kept going on about him and I finally
deduced she was referring to Hal Sparks. So we quickly went out to try
to find him and couldn't -- xxxx was trying to describe his hair and
clothes and I couldn't find him.

We walked up the street a bit to go to a tea tasting shop that offered
free samples of tea. We quite enjoyed sampling the different varieties
of teas, some as much as $160 per pound. Speaking of excellent tea, I
tasted a "milk oolong" which does indead smell a bit like milk might,
but another patron said it exactly -- it tastes and smells a bit like
popcorn. Not buttered and salted popcorn, just plain regular popcorn.
I was absolutely entranced by the samples (which I suppose is the
point) and xxxx was able to purchase some "Blue" tea (which leaves an
aftertaste of honey although there is no honey in it) and I purchased
the expensive milk oolong. I was a bit shocked to see it cost almost
$20 for 1/8 pound, but it should be good at home, and with whole leaf
teas like this, you can reuse the leaves to make several cups from
each serving.

Eventually, we were tired and walked back to our hotel from Chinatown.
We walked right underneath the Transamerica "spike" and next to a
really neat shady redwood "park" that is next to it. We stopped at the
hotel for an hour's rest for our poor feetsies. I've walked quite a
bit in a lot of cities, including Manhatten, and never really been
this tired. It's the uneven hilly landscape that tires one out, even
though we never walked up any large hills nor even down the hills that
were tall (we always took transportation for anything steep).

About an hour's rest later, we walked the few blocks to Union Park. I
was hoping, based on the map and google satellite photos, that this
was the square from one of my favourite movies of all time, The
Conversation. xxxx rolled her eyes as I quizzed her on where she had
seen the sqare before, and in what movies. Hey, it was Gene Hackman,
ok? He's only the greatest actor of all time, ever. Not to mention
Francis Ford Coppola, Harrison Ford, Cindy Williams -- what else do
you need?

Anyway, xxxx was more excited about the HUGE Macy's building across
the street and the huge sign advertising their new flower show with an
Indian theme. We went inside and it was packed very very tightly with
bustling people. One forgets how dense these cities can be, if one is
used to non-dense exurbs like Los Angeles. After shopping a bit at all
the shops around Union Park, we walked back to toward China town to
find the restaurant that had been recommeded by a friend.

We were able to find it on Kearney, called the House of Nanking. The
food was absolutely brilliant. The hot tea was served in a glass mug
with all the floaty leaves and bits and flowers still in it. All of
the food and sauces were excellent tasting. The vegetables were
delicious and fresh, in fact, they were apparently flash cooked as
they are cooked but almost raw inside which was wonderful. Highly
recommended. We walked back past the Transamerica spike and back to
the hotel for an early night's rest.

The next day we walked to Market street to take the 71 bus to Golden
Gate Park. We waited at least 30 minutes in the bitter blowing cold
wind for the bus and finally rode it up. The public transport in San
Francisco is supposed to be good or even "excellent", it is actually
pretty horrible from my experience. The bums seem to enjoy riding the
bus and the human smells that were available for breathing were quite
sickening. A hippy kid with tie-died sweater and huge camping gear
backpack sat across from us and tried to engage in a conversation. We
were luckily saved by another couple of tourists who got on and he
started to talk with them.

Reaching Haight and Ashbury streets, I suddenly bolted off the bus
dragging xxxx. I was pretty hip and keen to cat the jibe from the
hella cool address. Or whatever, man. We walked back from the bus stop
to the corner of Haight and Ashbury and could not discern any historic
sense or occasion from the location. Not even a contact high from the
soaked concrete or the lingering wail of Pearl who died so young (in
Los Angeles, near an apartment where I lived when I was young). Or
Hendrix, or whatever used to happen around here. There was nothing
there, it was just a street corner. In fact, it was a rather dirty
street corner in a relatively bad part of town. We walked up Haight to
continue to the park.

The park was quite large but unkempt. It doesn't compare favourably
with Central Park at all.
I wouldn't be proud of that park if it was my park. It does give a
good sense of what the natural form of the land looked like when
settlers arrived hundreds of years ago. And it was also bitterly,
bitterly cold and foggy. The wind was fierce at times and I had to
bundle tightly and get my hoodie pulled up.

We were in search of the Japanese tea gardens and eventually found it
by following signs. It was only $4 entrance fee and $3 each for tea,
but we were slightly disappointed. While the landscaping is very
pretty and the arhitecture is authentic, nothing was authentic about
the kimono-wearing servers or the cheesy, expensive items in the gift
shop. The gift shop was basically the same trash we were pawing
through in China town, but approximately 5 times the price. So we had
tea in front of the pont and it was nice, but that was about it.

The cherry blossom trees were a high point, luckily they were blooming
for us. But we walked a bit north to the museum and decided not to go
in. We were lucky to find Fulton street and take the 5 bus back toward
downtown. Amazingly, the bus was clean and smelled fresh, and arrive
almost as soon as we stood at the stop. We were trying to get to
Japantown and got off at Laguna. We had to walk up a hill a bit, but
eventually got there. It was small and would have been disappointing
if I hadn't already been there and knew what to expect. Little Tokyo
in downtown Los Angeles is a lot bigger and better in my opinion.

We walked the indoor mall and found a nice-looking restaurant named
Suzu. The place was a bit small and full, but the nice waitresses
offered us hot tea while we waited in seats outside. Inside, the food
was very good and authentic, I ordered the salmon sashimi don (over
rice) and it was terrific. The bowl of ramen in the combo was only
decent, the noodles were too hard. I think most people would like it,
but I am a bit of a snob and prefer very soft noodles. I was listening
to the patrons speaking in fluent Japanese and saw an odd exchange
when some customers entered, speaking Japanese, deciding whether to
eat here or not, and then switching to horrible broken English to ask
"How long is wait?"

I was wondering about that and made a stupid mistake that xxxx usually
does -- I tried to thank our waitress and ask her for the check in
Japanese. She looked at me strangely and I repeated clearly the
request. She looked strangely and I realised I had missed some clue
the other native Japanese people had picked up -- she either didn't
speak Japanese or she wasn't Japanese at all, or both. Before you
judge me, remember, I can indeed tell asians apart, recognising
Koreans from Japanese, North Chinese from south, and so on. I guess we
can't be perfect.

After the very satisfying lunch, xxxx and I walked into a store next
door that sold the usual manga, anime and so forth action figures. As
we were looking in the window, Hal Sparks (!!!) walked past me with
some friends and entered the store. This time, I was just as giggly
and wobbly as she was spotting (admittedly) one of my favourite guys
on VH1. It was pretty funny and amazing that we had met the same
person twice in a huge city, separated by 24 hours and 10 miles.

We left there and caught the 2 bus toward downtown, just about ready
to call our trip a success. Amazingly, the 2 bus arrived immediately
and was clean. We got our bags from the hotel and walked a few blocks
back to the Embarcadero square. From there we found the BART station
and took the train back to the airport. I was not impressed with the
BART at all -- it was slow and noisy and bumpy. The seats are more
comfortable than any other subway I've ridden -- but so what? At least
it was a lot cheaper than a cab -- $5.15 each one way. Keep your
ticket -- I threw ours away after entering the stiles, much to the
anger and consternation of xxx. On the exit, you are supposed to
deduct the amount from the card -- and you cannot purchase a new one.

So we jumped over the stile and ran to the "Air Train". There's that
stupid, asinine "Air Train" phrase again. What kind of brain dead
autistic retarded mongoloid came up with that?

On 2 Apr 2007 17:22:27 -0700, wrote:

In a continuing series of vacations, xxxx and I flew to San Francisco
for the weekend.

We took an 8pm flight to SFO and caught a cab to the Hotel. We were
staying at a fancy French-named hotel near the embarcadero on Clay St.
Giving the name and address to the cabbie was shockingly easy. I
wonder how they really know where everything is without a map. This
guy probably does nothing but drive back and forth between the airport
and hotels in the city. He was also a maniac with the gas pedal,
exceeding 80 miles per hour most of the way. Which was fine by us, as
it was late and we would like to get to the hotel as soon as possible.

Unfortunately, when we got off near 4th street (near AT&T park), we
ran into a huge crowd exiting the game. All the roads were blocked off
as well. We had to detour a bit up to Market St to Kearney, then back
down Clay. xxxx noted the street name (Kearney) because her friend had
recommended "the best" chinese food at a restaurant there. We resolved
to go back to find it. The cab ended up to cost almost $45 with tip; I
was rather upset to pay that amount when a shuttle or train should
have been suitable for much less.

Then why didn't you take the train (BART)?

The next morning, we stumbled across the street to Elephant and
Castle, an english pub which had been recommended by the hotel staff.
It was absolutely horrible food for hugely expensive cost. The quote-
unquote "banger" was actually American pork sausage, the bacon was
simple American bacon, and the potatoes were bland boring blocks. We
decided not to go there again. We went around the corner to one of the
millions of Starbuck's located on every single corner and got some
coffee to start the day fresh.

We walked about two blocks south through some dreary unkempt parks,
trying to avoid the hundreds of horribly dirty filthy homeless people
that would become regular sights on our trip. We reached Embarcadero
square a few blocks south of the hotel, somewhat impressed by the
square's fresh hip vibe and the rather interesting concrete and water
feature structure. Across the sqare was the San Francisco port

The building across the street with the clock tower is the Ferry
Building, not the port. The port is a mile to the south on the
bay. And it's not Embarcadero square; it's Justin Herman Plaza.

at
which xxxx and I queued up for the F bus to visit Fisherman's wharf.
Something must have been amiss because we spent the better part of an
hour waiting for the bus that should run every ten minutes or more.
The wait was so long, we actually watched crowds of fellow tourists
show up, wait for a length of time and then leave. Eventually, a rail
bus did come by, but it was jammed so full that it never stopped. That
caused a loud row among the waiting tourists and most of them left
after that. We still waited at least another 20 minutes before another
bus showed up. I found that strange for 9:30 am on a Saturday morning,
but it might be normal. Little did we know this would be a premonition
of our public transport problems.

The F-line is a trolley or a streetcar, or even a tram, not a
bus. And since it's a tourist attraction going to a tourist
attraction, it's always full.

A word on the weather. I was not foolish enough to think that just
because the city is technically part of California that it must be
warm and sunny. I have actually been to San Francisco a few times
before and know that it can be quite damp and cold. But waiting for
the rail bus that morning, I was glad that I had worn a warm wind
breaker with hood for my head and ears. Whenever the wind picked up
off the bay, it was like cutting ice on your face -- and it couldn't
have been much colder than 69 degrees or so. Something about the
humidity and cold and fog and damp that just bites hard.

Remember what Mark Twain didn't say...

There's a reason why people working in San Francisco wear wool
suits.

Eventually, the rail bus

"Rail bus"? It's a trolley, or to some a "street car".

showed up and we paid $3.00 to travel to the
Fisherman's wharf. We got down with the rest of the tourists at Wharf
39, which was horribly touristy and tacky with shops and horrible
looking food choices. I wanted to leave the area, but xxxx egged me on
and we finally arrived at the end of Wharf 39 and were treated to the
famous spectualar view of Alcatraz island and the bay. This was an
example of how the best experiences in travel come free, although you
have to press through the horrible, gaudy tourist **** to get to it.
We walked around the corner to look at the sea lions, which were few
but neat to see. Walking back along the "back side" of the wharf, we
were able to avoid the touristy crap and continue strolling.

It's really rather nuts to go to a trashy place like Fishermans
Wharf and *Pier 39* and complain about how trashy it is. On the
other hand, it's world class trash, and if you can get under all
the phoney trash you'll find the genuine trash (to paraphrase
Oscar Levant).

[...]

So we continued strolling along the bay and walked up to the the
curved break water area that was billed as a "beach". If this was a
beach, then my name is Sam Peckinpaw and I'm a famous director. The
"beach" consisted of four small steps down to a four foot section of
drab sand leading directly into the frigid, grey green waters of the
bay. There were several idiots swimming laps in the water, and I don't
know what kind of sick masochist you have to be to swim in those
waters.

It's not the grey green waters, it's the frigid that's the
problem. Damn that water's cold. Other than that it's simply
ocean and bay water and it gets flushed twice a day by the tides.

You must have been very disappointed by North Beach. I'm curious,
though, as to what designated Aquatic Park as a "beach", although
I guess it actually is one.

We wandered a bit up the hill to the Ghirardelli square but weren't
interested. We just went back to the trolley car station which was our
original target.

It's a cable car, not a trolley. Thre's a difference.

I purchased two tickets for $5 each and noticed xxxx
standing in a huge line that wrapped around the turn-around for the
cars. I asked her what was about and she noted that there were several
cars sitting around queued up but they weren't running. Apparently,
some road work or track work was being performed and so everything was
being held up. We waited for the better part of 2 hours in the queue
to get on the trolley cars which were only running whenever the road
or track construction crew would move out of the way to let one car
past. It was entertaining (once) to watch the cars coasting by gravity
into the turnaround platform, watching the conductor get out and push
with brute force the cars to turn on the platform. Once the car had
been rotated through 300 degrees or so, the car would then be pushed
with brute force on the new outbound track.

Sigh. In the old days, the passengers helped the conductor turn
the turntable. Back then it was transportation and not a
FriscoLand E-ticket ride.

[...]

Suffice to say that the trolley car was an exceptional track if only
for the amazing views it offered of the city. Taking the photos at the
top of Lombard Dr. is not to be missed. Unfortunately, we purchased
the one-way tickets which don't allow one to hop on-and-off. For only
$11 (each) you can get the all-day ticket and jump on and off to stop
and look around. We didn't have the time or inclination to do so, but
it's probably well worth it for some others.

It's a cable car, not a trolley. There's a difference.

[...]

About an hour's rest later, we walked the few blocks to Union Park. I
was hoping, based on the map and google satellite photos, that this
was the square from one of my favourite movies of all time, The
Conversation. xxxx rolled her eyes as I quizzed her on where she had
seen the sqare before, and in what movies. Hey, it was Gene Hackman,
ok? He's only the greatest actor of all time, ever. Not to mention
Francis Ford Coppola, Harrison Ford, Cindy Williams -- what else do
you need?

It's Union Square.

[...]

The next day we walked to Market street to take the 71 bus to Golden
Gate Park. We waited at least 30 minutes in the bitter blowing cold
wind for the bus and finally rode it up. The public transport in San
Francisco is supposed to be good or even "excellent", it is actually
pretty horrible from my experience.

I gahter this was on a Sunday morning. A lot of routes have
limited service on Sundays.

It helps if you know how to use the system. I'd have used the
N-Judah Metro tram to get to Golden Gate Park. Did you see the
Metro stations under the BART stations on Market St?

The bums seem to enjoy riding the
bus and the human smells that were available for breathing were quite
sickening. A hippy kid with tie-died sweater and huge camping gear
backpack sat across from us and tried to engage in a conversation. We
were luckily saved by another couple of tourists who got on and he
started to talk with them.

Reaching Haight and Ashbury streets, I suddenly bolted off the bus
dragging xxxx. I was pretty hip and keen to cat the jibe from the
hella cool address. Or whatever, man. We walked back from the bus stop
to the corner of Haight and Ashbury and could not discern any historic
sense or occasion from the location. Not even a contact high from the
soaked concrete or the lingering wail of Pearl who died so young (in
Los Angeles, near an apartment where I lived when I was young). Or
Hendrix, or whatever used to happen around here. There was nothing
there, it was just a street corner. In fact, it was a rather dirty
street corner in a relatively bad part of town. We walked up Haight to
continue to the park.

It was a rather dirty street corner in a relatively bad part of
town back when Janis lived there, too. Tht's why it was cheap
enough for all those famous rock stars to live there. Except for
the reduced number of hippies, it's not that much different than
it ever was. what on earth were you expecting?

The park was quite large but unkempt. It doesn't compare favourably
with Central Park at all.

How much of the park did you actually see? GGPark extends several
miles to the ocean.

I wouldn't be proud of that park if it was my park. It does give a
good sense of what the natural form of the land looked like when
settlers arrived hundreds of years ago. And it was also bitterly,
bitterly cold and foggy. The wind was fierce at times and I had to
bundle tightly and get my hoodie pulled up.

It helps if you know what you're talking about. Golden Gate Park
was all sand dunes before it was built. In fact, the entire
downslope to the ocean was sand clear down to the zoo.

[...]

I was wondering about that and made a stupid mistake that xxxx usually
does -- I tried to thank our waitress and ask her for the check in
Japanese. She looked at me strangely and I repeated clearly the
request. She looked strangely and I realised I had missed some clue
the other native Japanese people had picked up -- she either didn't
speak Japanese or she wasn't Japanese at all, or both. Before you
judge me, remember, I can indeed tell asians apart, recognising
Koreans from Japanese, North Chinese from south, and so on. I guess we
can't be perfect.

Could it be possible your Japanese sucks swampwater?

We left there and caught the 2 bus toward downtown, just about ready
to call our trip a success. Amazingly, the 2 bus arrived immediately
and was clean. We got our bags from the hotel and walked a few blocks
back to the Embarcadero square.

That's be Justin Herman Plaza, not Embarcadero square.

From there we found the BART station
and took the train back to the airport. I was not impressed with the
BART at all -- it was slow and noisy and bumpy. The seats are more
comfortable than any other subway I've ridden -- but so what? At least
it was a lot cheaper than a cab -- $5.15 each one way. Keep your
ticket -- I threw ours away after entering the stiles, much to the
anger and consternation of xxx. On the exit, you are supposed to
deduct the amount from the card -- and you cannot purchase a new one.

So we jumped over the stile and ran to the "Air Train". There's that
stupid, asinine "Air Train" phrase again. What kind of brain dead
autistic retarded mongoloid came up with that?

Someone not so an autistic retarded mongoloid that he probably
learns how a system works before he uses it.

--
************* DAVE HATUNEN ) *************
* Tucson Arizona, out where the cacti grow *
* My typos & mispellings are intentional copyright traps *

wrote:
San Francisco for the weekend.

It's painfully obvious that you didn't bother to do any research
before coming here. Hatunen commented on some of the things. I won't
bother with the others such as finding the House of Nanking
praiseworthy or regarding the Great Eastern, where I've been eating,
among other places, for at least forty-five years.

The "Don't-miss SIGHTS in San Francisco" page
http://geocities.com/iconoc/Articles/Sights.html has enough to keep
you busy for nine 12.7-hour days. It includes links to your best
sources of advice on WHERE TO EAT and, according to the Department of
Health, WHERE TO NOT EAT here, the UseNet Group ba.food, and the
quite-good sfSurvey and the comprehensive Yelp. It also has a WEATHER
CHART with a link to current conditions.

The FLAG/MAPS page http://geocities.com/iconoc/Grafix/FlagMaps.html
has links to the best on-line MAP of San Francisco, an inter-active
PDF created for the San Francisco Municipal Railway best viewed at
150% or greater magnification. There's also a link that will tell you
HOW TO GET THERE FROM HERE. Among other maps and links on the page is
an outstanding BIKE MAP that shows the steepness of our streets, a
map of our CABLE CAR ROUTES, our 49-mile SCENIC DRIVE, and a superb
map of GOLDEN GATE PARK.

-- __________________________________________________ ______________
Un San Francisqueño en San Francisco.
http://geocities.com/dancefest/ --- http://geocities.com/iconoc/
ICQ: http://wwp.mirabilis.com/19098103 ------- IClast at Gmail com


--
Posted via a free Usenet account from http://www.teranews.com

Reaching Haight and Ashbury streets, I suddenly bolted off the bus
dragging xxxx. I was pretty hip and keen to cat the jibe from the
hella cool address. Or whatever, man. We walked back from the bus stop
to the corner of Haight and Ashbury and could not discern any historic
sense or occasion from the location. Not even a contact high from the
soaked concrete or the lingering wail of Pearl who died so young (in
Los Angeles, near an apartment where I lived when I was young). Or
Hendrix, or whatever used to happen around here. There was nothing
there, it was just a street corner. In fact, it was a rather dirty
street corner in a relatively bad part of town. We walked up Haight to
continue to the park.

It was a rather dirty street corner in a relatively bad part of
town back when Janis lived there, too. Tht's why it was cheap
enough for all those famous rock stars to live there. Except for
the reduced number of hippies, it's not that much different than
it ever was. what on earth were you expecting?


I was amazed at the blatant commercialism last time I was there (last year).
Yeah, for $28 you can buy a t-shirt with Jimi or Janis or whoever on it.
Lot's of '60s memorabilia everywhere-- seems it's become a crass parady of
itself.

On Tue, 3 Apr 2007 09:56:02 -0400, "Sarah Banick"
wrote:


Reaching Haight and Ashbury streets, I suddenly bolted off the bus
dragging xxxx. I was pretty hip and keen to cat the jibe from the
hella cool address. Or whatever, man. We walked back from the bus stop
to the corner of Haight and Ashbury and could not discern any historic
sense or occasion from the location. Not even a contact high from the
soaked concrete or the lingering wail of Pearl who died so young (in
Los Angeles, near an apartment where I lived when I was young). Or
Hendrix, or whatever used to happen around here. There was nothing
there, it was just a street corner. In fact, it was a rather dirty
street corner in a relatively bad part of town. We walked up Haight to
continue to the park.

It was a rather dirty street corner in a relatively bad part of
town back when Janis lived there, too. Tht's why it was cheap
enough for all those famous rock stars to live there. Except for
the reduced number of hippies, it's not that much different than
it ever was. what on earth were you expecting?


I was amazed at the blatant commercialism last time I was there (last year).
Yeah, for $28 you can buy a t-shirt with Jimi or Janis or whoever on it.
Lot's of '60s memorabilia everywhere-- seems it's become a crass parady of
itself.

Do you honestly think there weren't any Janis or Jimi T-shirts
for sale back in the late 1960s?

--
************* DAVE HATUNEN ) *************
* Tucson Arizona, out where the cacti grow *
* My typos & mispellings are intentional copyright traps *

anyone who goes to the haight looking for Jimi loses all credibility
in my book......he played about a .00000001% role in what went down
there........it is like going to yankee stadium and expecting a Ted
Williams statue in the monument section........


And everyone knows 710 is the adress to look for.......



Chuck

It was a rather dirty street corner in a relatively bad part of
town back when Janis lived there, too. Tht's why it was cheap
enough for all those famous rock stars to live there. Except for
the reduced number of hippies, it's not that much different than
it ever was. what on earth were you expecting?


I was amazed at the blatant commercialism last time I was there (last
year).
Yeah, for $28 you can buy a t-shirt with Jimi or Janis or whoever on it.
Lot's of '60s memorabilia everywhere-- seems it's become a crass parady of
itself.

Do you honestly think there weren't any Janis or Jimi T-shirts
for sale back in the late 1960s?

--
************* DAVE HATUNEN ) *************
* Tucson Arizona, out where the cacti grow *
* My typos & mispellings are intentional copyright traps *

No, I assume the t-shirts were there....but the coffee mugs, the Christmas
ornaments, the limited edition sculptures, playing cards, etc. etc.?
http://www.authentichendrix.com/

On Apr 2, 8:47 pm, Hatunen wrote:
On 2 Apr 2007 17:22:27 -0700, wrote:
to go back to find it. The cab ended up to cost almost $45 with tip; I
was rather upset to pay that amount when a shuttle or train should
have been suitable for much less.

Then why didn't you take the train (BART)?

.....
that would become regular sights on our trip. We reached Embarcadero
square a few blocks south of the hotel, somewhat impressed by the
square's fresh hip vibe and the rather interesting concrete and water
feature structure. Across the sqare was the San Francisco port

The building across the street with the clock tower is the Ferry
Building, not the port. The port is a mile to the south on the
bay. And it's not Embarcadero square; it's Justin Herman Plaza.

Thanks for your helpful factual corrections. I usually attempt to
keep a dairy of notes and use some maps to consult. In this case, I
typed from memory.

On Apr 3, 4:18 am, Icono Clast wrote:
wrote:
San Francisco for the weekend.

It's painfully obvious that you didn't bother to do any research
before coming here. Hatunen commented on some of the things. I won't
bother with the others such as finding the House of Nanking
praiseworthy or regarding the Great Eastern, where I've been eating,
among other places, for at least forty-five years.

The "Don't-miss SIGHTS in San Francisco" pagehttp://geocities.com/iconoc/Articles/Sights.htmlhas enough to keep
you busy for nine 12.7-hour days. It includes links to your best
sources of advice on WHERE TO EAT and, according to the Department of
Health, WHERE TO NOT EAT here, the UseNet Group ba.food, and the
quite-good sfSurvey and the comprehensive Yelp. It also has a WEATHER
CHART with a link to current conditions.

The FLAG/MAPS pagehttp://geocities.com/iconoc/Grafix/FlagMaps.html
has links to the best on-line MAP of San Francisco, an inter-active
PDF created for the San Francisco Municipal Railway best viewed at
150% or greater magnification. There's also a link that will tell you
HOW TO GET THERE FROM HERE. Among other maps and links on the page is
an outstanding BIKE MAP that shows the steepness of our streets, a
map of our CABLE CAR ROUTES, our 49-mile SCENIC DRIVE, and a superb
map of GOLDEN GATE PARK.

This information is indeed useful; if I had more preparation (and more
time in the city), I'd have found the sfsurvey.com site EXTREMELY
helpful. A big part of the "travel" I do is based on finding the
foods.

Thanks.