A weekend in San Francisco

I break the long journey back to NZ by stopping off in San Francisco for 2 nights.  There are 3 reasons why this is a good idea: it means that I only have to endure separate flight lengths of 12 and 13 hrs, rather than the usual combined 25; it gives me a chance to visit a city unfamiliar to me but considered charming; but above all, it means that I get to see American Julie again!

Blog readers will remember that Julie was my dear friend and playmate in St Heliers, right up to Christmas Day when she had to leave and return to the US (through lack of a work visa).  We have been skyping regularly, but at last a chance to see each other properly again.

The journey begins auspiciously at Heathrow when I find myself unexpectedly bumped up to Virgin Upper Class, for ‘being helpful’.  The fact that most of the flight takes place in daylight doesn’t stop me from turning my couch into a proper bed and lying down – because I CAN!  I should fly like this more often J

Julie meets me at the airport and we drive through the city, chattering away happily, seeking our 1930s art deco motel near the ocean, aptly named Ocean Park Motel.  

Another good sign – astonishingly the nearby streets are lined with pohutukawa, the Christmas tree that grows in abundance in New Zealand’s north island, and especially all along St Heliers Bay.  And moreover it is in bloom, June being summer in California.  How strange and yet how familiar….

[A flowering pohutukawa]

After a shower I venture forth for supper with Julie’s son (Tevis), and her daughter (Sarah Harriet) and daughter’s fiancé (Marcos).  These are names that have long been familiar to me; now the faces become so, too.  Tevis drives.  I experience some very steep roads until my obvious discomfort causes Tevis to find alternative less stressful routes.

The next day greets us with classic San Fran fog!  We head to a nearby diner for breakfast.  I feel as if I have walked onto the set for a 1950s American film (Peggy Sue got Married ...). 

[Julie enjoying breakfast at Bruce's Diner]

I order the pecan and honey pancake – it is delicious; the coffee jug keeps coming round.  And so our day of exploring begins.  First stop, naturally, the Golden Gate bridge.  Obligingly the mist lifts just enough for a photo opportunity.

We drive on through the Presidio, a vast wooded area formerly used by the US military, where beautiful buildings have been sensibly re-allocated to other uses, including not-for-profit businesses.

We pass a huge military cemetery (one of several that day) before stopping to admire the Palace of Fine Arts, originally built for the 1915 Panama-Pacific Exposition and recently completely renovated.  It stands at the edge of an ornamental lake, surrounded by gorgeous houses.

Next stop, Fisherman’s Wharf.  In the distance, Alcatraz, sitting inoffensively atop its rocky island. 

[You can just make out Alcatraz in the distance]

By now the sky is blue; it is warm out of the wind.  The Wharf is home to several historic vessels moored fetchingly in view. 

  

Several buildings ashore also reflect the maritime theme, including the National Maritime Museum (formerly the bath house at the ‘Aquatic Park’), complete with its vivid 1930s mural by artist Hilaire Hiler.

We drive on and descend the famous Lombard Street, a steep road unusually designed with a series of sharply-tacking corners, in-filled with flower beds – speed limit 5mph.  I was too busy taking photographs to mind the angle of descent!

[Looking back up Lombard St once we'd safely negotiated the curves; 

others are following suit]

On to the 1933 art deco Coit Tower, atop Telegraph Hill.  More murals, and some wonderful views of the Bay Bridge and city. 

 [Coit Tower]

[One of the many murals inside the Tower, depicting typical Californian scenes]

[Bay Bridge]

[That's Lombard Street in the distance; you can just see the Golden Gate bridge 

shrouded in mist]

By now the memory of my pancake is no longer enough to sustain me and we head to the Ferry Building for a light lunch.  The inside is packed full of enticing food shops of all varieties (including 'the best cheese shop in the world’).  

[The Ferry Building, with one of the older trams stationed in front]

It’s lucky we buy after we’ve eaten lunch!  But we get the makings of a picnic for the next day.

I’m almost on sensory overload.  So many things to see.  I’m particularly loving the variety of different architecture.  We drive through Chinatown, Japantown and down to Golden Gate Park, where we tiredly wander through the Japanese Tea Garden before heading back to our motel to freshen up for supper.

[The Japanese Tea Garden]

San Francisco’s history can be roughly divided into three parts: firstly the early settlers, initially Native Americans and later others, who appreciated the wonderful natural harbour it has; then those who came as a result of the Gold Rush in the late 1840s, many of whom came from other nations that continue to make their mark in the city today; and finally the rebuilding of the city after the devastating earthquake of 1906, when it’s estimated that 80% of the infrastructure was destroyed.  Much of the city conforms to the favoured grid construction, everything pretty much at right angles to everything else.  That seems to help the trams which continue to flourish, climbing even the steepest roads (though not with me aboard!).  The city has a charm that is rare in many cities today, with quirky, attractive houses colourfully-painted that line streets often liberally planted with trees.  There is much breathing space in this city.  And a lot of telegraph wires that hang precariously above the roads – something we rarely see in Britain today.

[Down near our motel, the telegraph wires are a constant feature]

I awake to less fog, more blue sky, and another pancake at our local diner. 

It is Sunday morning.  The Diamond Jubilee festivities are well underway back in Britain (where it is already late afternoon).  Julie surfs the TV til she finds the River Pageant on CNN, and we watch the sodden but joyful scene from our motel room. 

We decide to attend church at the Episcopalian Grace cathedral.  The building was modelled on Notre Dame, as you can see!  

[Grace Cathedral, on California Street]

We witness the baptism of 11 separate children, conducted in a vast semicircle round the font at the back.  It is a real feat of choreography and organisation; impressive but perhaps not very personal...

Afterwards we drive through the Civic Center, with its French-looking City Hall,

and see (astonishingly again) a work of art by the same Korean artist (Choi Jeong Hwa) whose work graces the entrance to the Auckland Art Gallery - yet another unexpected link with this adventure :-)

We venture on into the less salubrious Mission area, where the music becomes distinctly more Latino. Julie has planned that we eat our picnic at Twin Peaks.  That seems a good idea – until I realise that the roads are climbing ever steeper and I’m having to shut my eyes more often, and suddenly this no longer seems like a good idea at all but more like a nightmare!  We begin our descent and instead eat our sour dough bread and heavenly cheeses overlooking the eastern city, the San Francisco Bay glinting in the distance.

We have talked and talked, laughed and shared for hours and hours, and now we both know that soon we will need to say goodbye again…  We slip back through now-familiar streets until we meet up once more with Sarah Harriet and Marcos, who will be making the journey back to Sacramento with Julie once they have dropped me at the airport.  The sun has shone, the sky stayed blue.  It has been a particularly wonderful way to bridge leaving the UK and returning to NZ. 

Au revoir, Julie.  Merci mille fois.

A bientot, j’espere J

[PS  I have no idea why some of the writing in this blog appears in white outline]