Going west to San Francisco

Some of you may remember me mentioning the rather interesting American I met on the ferry to Tangier, he asked if I'd been to California and realising that I didn't want to get into a conversation with him I declined to mention that I hadn't, but that I was planning on going. Perhaps not surprisingly he told me "Don't, it's wild. Too wild." I'd heard other people saying similar things, but with slightly different phrasing, along the lines of "Do, it's wild. So wild." So I was very curious as to what I'd find.

The train was late getting into so I didn't get a chance to really explore on the first night beyond the streets around the hostel, and the next morning I'd booked a trip to Alcatraz. So at 7am I dragged myself out of bed and grabbed one of San Francisco's cable cars down to the wharf.


Riding these things is actually quite fun. I didn't get to hang off the side on this occasion, but I did later in the trip when the conductor practically ordered me to do so. I don't know why every other place in the world seems to have such a fascination with trams etc, apart from the UK. I once read a slogan that trams have the ability to bring out the child in any bloke, and my, it's true. Perhaps they should have them in shopping centres... After a short ferry ride over to Alcatraz whereupon I met two English girls who rather gave themselves away by singing a rendition of 'Ferry Across the Mersey' and another English family, I found myself on the sight of the formal Federal Penitentiary.



It's a very odd place. It's so peaceful and tranquil now that it's a nature reserve, but by virtue of the fact that all the old buildings are still there, it retains a huge amount of atmosphere. I've never been in another prison, but they was something about this place that lived up to the expectation engendered by all the films and stories etc. It was suggested that part of the power of the place came from the fact that it was so isolated, yet so close to the sights and sounds of the mainland, and I think there must be a lot in that for San Francisco boasts a tremendous skyline which you could never really not notice.


After going slightly overboard in the island gift shop I got back on the ferry to the mainland and set about exploring the inward sea front area known as the Embarcadero, an area which perhaps better than any other lived up to the California image, with parks complete with palm trees mirroring the sea front, with old-style trams rumbling up the roads.


This was perhaps one of my favourite areas in the city, although bits were necessarily touristy. After walking down to the Ferry Building I explored the downtown area of the town and China Town, which was disappointingly un-Chinatown like compared to what I'd expected. The downtown area itself though is quite pretty with lots of impressive architecture more than making up for the relative lack of older buildings which were destroyed in the earthquake.


San Francisco's famous for its hills, and for someone basing his walking on a 2D map, such 3D features become enormously inconvenient as I found out when I decided to climb the Coit Tower. The street up to it was so steep that cars had to park at 90 degrees to the pavement (sidewalk) and there were steps up the side.


Given the gradient I felt the 'Stop' sign to be rather redundant seeing as most cars would hardly be 'Going' at that stage. This turned out to be incredibly common, and made a huge difference from Holland! But more often than not the climb was more than worth the effort as each crest provided some fantastic views over the city or the bay.


Of course though, the most famous hill drive is the windy road at Lombard. I left this until the last day as I thought it would be quite something to see, and it's quite a sight.



But it's also completely pointless! There are steeper streets that don't wind, it takes the cars ages to get down, and the place is so populated with tourists (me included) gazing and driving that there are signs everywhere telling people ot be quite for the sake of the neighbours. Which is really a shame, as it so picturesque compared to the had concrete look of the other hills.

Jeff mentioned before I left that the best view of the city was from a place called Twin Peaks, so the next day I decided (after breakfast in a very American diner) to climb up there as well. Unfortunately I hadn't reckoned with the weather. San Francisco is prone to fog of the pea souper variety and the bus drivers bemused look when I stated my destination said it all. After about an hour of walking around I came to the top of the city and was greeted by a fantastic view of... cloud.


But odd as it sounds, it was quite something in itself. To know that all around was this huge city, yet I could see or hear none of it and to be standing their alone was an oddly satisfying experience and I didn't really feel that cheated, although I would have liked to see the view! Given that the weather wasn't up to much I went for a stroll through Golden Gate Park, which turned out to be a lot bigger than expected and ended up taking a further two hours before I thought I'd walked all the way back to Holland.


I had lunch under the Windmill, where I was also, for the first and last time on the trip told that my accent was lovely. If all goes pear shaped over here then I think I might go and stand on a street corner somewhere in the mid-west and busk by just speaking! The park itself was oddly peaceful as it was so huge as to completely block out the surrounding city, and it emerges quite unannounced onto the Pacific Ocean. I'm not quire sure why, but I'd really been looking forward to seeing this. I guess it comes from growing up by the sea and not really being that close to it in Cambridge or Utrecht. It might also have been to do with the fact that the coast at San Francisco is known as 'Land's End', which happens to be about 12 miles away from where I live in Cornwall, so perhaps it was a home coming.


The weather was suitably moody and the scene wasn't dissimilar to Lands End back home, but it's quite strange knowing that the country across the water is Japan, rather than America. Next stop on the coastal tour was the Golden Gate Bridge, where again the fog lent an extra dimension.


It was wonderful seeing this huge bridge disappearing off into the fog so that you couldn't see the end, or the top of the towers. Amazingly I also bumped into Jans, the guy I'd sat behind on the train there. He'd just cycled across and back and advised against the same unless I really wanted to see the parking lot at the other side. Naturally I didn't, but I wasn't going to leave without having walked across, so I did anyway, and I agree, it's not great as parking lots go.

As it turned out I should have left the second day until the third day when the weather improved slightly such that I might have been able to see beyond my own hand up on Twin Peaks. Unfortunately I didn't have the time to go back there, but I did get back to the Golden Gate Bridge where this time I could see the other side of the Bay.


San Francisco is famous for its sourdough bread as well, which allowed me to visit quite a few bakeries and satisfy my obsession with bread, more on which here. I also had the time to stroll around the southern neighbourhoods, around Castro, which are the more Latino and bohemian areas of the city where I had dinner in a gay restaurant without realising until I was about half way through my southern fired chicken. That evening I had to get to the airport at about 4am, so I didn't bother booking a night in the hostel and instead found a bar that was showing the F1 Grand Prix until 2:30am which was good fun, and for a change the race was good enough to keep me awake throughout, before I shuttled off to the airport being so shattered that I fell asleep as soon as I sat down on the plane, with practically the next thing I knew being our landing in Chicago on the way back to Washington.

So that was a rather compressed three days in San Francisco, although with hindsight I could probably have fitted a little more in, maybe a trip out to Berkeley which most people say is really worth a visit, so it's on the list for next time! So is California really that wild? I wouldn't say so. The downtown areas of San Francisco didn't feel much different to any other city, but the rest of it did. The areas out to the west and the south really did have a different vibe that you could really detect, and although I hesitate to use the term, I did feel that there were a huge number of free-spirited and laid back people there who really added to an eclectic and electric atmosphere that people like the guy on the boat to Morocco must really hate. For me though it was fantastic to experience and it just adds to the fact that you really can't generalise about America. But despite all of that, I have to admit that I think Chicago just pips it overall.

Something about this photo, for me, sums up a lot of the above, so I think it's a good place to end this entry and my run of USA entries before getting back to my last two-and-a-half months here in Utrecht - scary thought!