The day I crossed that red bridge (2)

It sure felt like a lone walk up and down a lone mountain that afternoon in the the area of Laurel Heights. Not a soul to be seen under the Californian sun. A bit surreal. But there I was, heading towards the Presidio Park in search of the famous bridge.

I don't know what it is with me and American parks, but I tend to get lost in them. I can navigate through a packed Japanese metropole but I can't do American parks. Shocker. May I ask, why aren't there any area maps in them? And why oh why are highways running through them? In San Diego I couldn't find ANY pedestrian exit to the Balboa Park and ended up crossing the speedway to reach the other side! Crazy talk. And that is pretty much how I got lost in the Presidio Park as well, desperate for the bridge because the sun wasn't very high in the sky anymore, ah, and also because my legs were starting to hurt bad. But there is always hope when one comes across such a panel out of nowhere:

Yaay!

At last a view of the bridge! And Sausalito on the other side. The weird thing with this bridge is, the closer you get, the further away it feels! It's the weirdest feeling. But maybe I was quite tired and that affected my perception and estimation of distances. 

Errrm, almost there, Marie, but the pedestrian path is up there. Up!

OK! Let's do this before sunset and closing time. 

Crisis counseling phone about half way through. In case you are tickled by the desire to jump. Hmm, I'm not sure how helpful that is, considering the deafening noise levels on the bridge, I find it hard to imagine how one could have a conversation with a counsellor at that point!

I've reached the other side in about 45 minutes, very happy about the experience but frozen through, even though my neck was completely wrapped in a knit winter jersey I bought in a thrift store that morning. 

Looking back at the city I mentally followed my own footsteps from the hotel to the other side of the bridge through the hills, and it felt like what? I did all this? Seriously? And now going back? Noooooooooooo…… (face-palm). Plus there was absolutely NOTHING on this side of the bridge. Not the smallest of vending machines, let alone a coffee shop or a convenience store. Another shocker. If this were Japan there would be hundreds of "tourist pleasers" (food stands, drinks, souvenir shops, "I have crossed the Golden Gate Bridge" authentic laminated certificate etc) because for one thing, that's the best way of making money! The Americans are slightly behind with these matters :-))  Just kidding… a bit.

Anyway… after crossing the bridge back to San Francisco I did take a bus heading down town and treated myself with the most fantastic lobster ravioli and a glass of Pinot Noir. It was a fab day. It sure was. 

The day I crossed that red bridge (1)

Back to San Francisco for a couple of posts. If I remember well this was my last day in San Francisco and I had decided to go back home to Japan without soles on my shoes. So I walked, from China Town to Tenderloin to Hayes Valley to Haight-Ashbury. For a start. All of this up and down the hills, of course. But it was great, I enjoyed every moment of it because it is still the best way to explore a city. 

San Francisco is a multi-facetted city with a legion of imaginary borders between the various towns and high contrasts between wealthy areas and underprivileged neighbourhoods.

See the triangular tower in the centre of the picture? That is where the journey started in the morning. And this is the Alamo Square Park which, in my memory, will always be associated with the moon, just because a lone stroller asked me if I had seen the beautiful full moon the night before (I did and it was indeed beautiful).

And here is Ashbury, the land of Happy, Healthy and Horny, the magical triple H. Too bad it was on a Sunday and some of the shops were closed. Many, many vintage shops though, I loved it, needless to say.

To be continued….

Meet me at the Belvedere

I sometimes have incontinent nostalgia about the USA (in general) and California (in particular). Yes I know, no gun control, crap healthcare, fat burgers etc etc…. but still. What a great place to visit. Which reminds me that I have yet to tell you about that red bridge. Will do so soon.

Actual Chinatown

A few blocks away from the touristy Chinatown along Grant Avenue lies the real Chinatown. The town where life revolves around everything and (almost) everyone Chinese.

Cassettes. Paradise for (dust?) collectors I suppose.

Playing mahjong in the street. It's not a myth!

The Coit Tower

The Coit Tower looks down on the Telegraph Hill neighbourhood of San Francisco. The tower, in the city's Pioneer Park, was built in 1933 using Lillie Hitchcock Coit's bequest to beautify the city.

The fresco murals inside the tower were painted by 27 on-site artists and their numerous assistants.

The view on the whole city from the top of the tower is well worth a trip.

Not too far out there, the Alcatraz.

And the Golden Gate bridge on the right hand corner.

Veterans Day or Any Given Day

Gelato etc...

Italian town in San Francisco is a cosy neighbourhood with loads of restaurants, cafés, shops, galleries, everything one would expect from an Italian town in a city.

This one is not from the same part of town, just a clin d'oeil to my cousin with the same name :-))