San Francisco, California

Sunday 19 July

San Francisco

We got in yesterday about midday local time, to a sunny 21deg day. I got some walking in.

My room-mate is a walker, so off we went for the afternoon.

And it gets better. He's a car dealer, so we marvelled and remarked about the passing parade of novel automotive machinery.

But wait, there's more. He wanted a mini-notebook, and had found a website for an outfit called Best Buys, a US version of Noel Leeming cum Dick Smith. So off we went to the toy shop.

Bit disappointing though. The notebook Richard had set his heart on was only available on lease. The first alternative he selected was out of stock, and the final selection, an HP, was then subjected to 9.5% sales tax and a one off purchase fee of about $30US, both over and above the ticketed price. Neither would the salesman engage in argie bargie.

It still worked out cheaper than at home, but not by enough to want to do it again.

That walk seemed about 8km by the time we got nearly home, when we ran into Ken and Graeme on an expedition to locate the bike hire shop. This “just around the corner” took bloody ages, so all in all, I walked at least 16km. On top of the jetlag, I was knackered.

A couple of beers went down well, then we headed off by tram to Fisherman's Wharf for a seafood chowder dinner, served in a hollowed out loaf of bread, $9US and a stuffing feed at that.

I nodded off all the way in the tram-ride home, and got a solid 7.5 hrs sleep last night.

Market St, SanFran

Some first impressions.

The cars on the road don’t seem all that different to what we have, size-wise and % of Japanese makes, (although the models differ), no noticeable presence of yank tanks, but the big utes are nice.

The people are as human as you'd see anywhere, but I would comment the blacks are much more charismatic in the flesh than I gave thought to. Even the down and outers sitting on the street, or in cafe corners look like Denzel Washingtons, Samuel Jacksons, or Stevie Wonders, with the same sonorously rich yo bro voices. The black women are very attractive, the well-turned out ones quite stunning.

The place is full of tourists, but I'd guess something like 40% hispanic, 30% black, 20% asian, 10% white. When we get a couple of hours out of town it'll switch to 90% white, with deepening religiosity, so i'm told.

There's a sort of a slightly out of control feel about the place, litter, 3 armed cops helping traffic control with a street re-surfacing gang, over-manned job preservation in some quarters, and too little being done in others.

The computer salesman didn’t care too much about not totally satisfying Richard's purchase. Take it or leave it prevails, just gimme the money. The customs man supposed the unions controlled the shearing of my sheep. Wonder how much the tipping culture has on attitudes. Am getting a bit worn out on this.

However, there's a more polite interface between people than at home, you don’t feel the underlying aggression of youth.

You don’t see much idle youth, full stop. Have only seen one boy-racer car, a Ford Mustang. There's a lot of young cops, so maybe that’s how the testosterone is kept off the street. They don’t look at all like hard men, but they're all carrying side-arms. Find that comforting somehow.

The panhandling and begging was a bit of a novelty for a start, but it was getting a bit wearying this afternoon. You can’t let eye-contact happen, but the faces are so interesting it’s hard not to want to get a peek. Lots of homeless looking sorts, all their stuff in a rubbish bag or suitcase.

And the signs........ Yesterday I spotted “San Jose” on a road-sign, hey ............, “do you know the way to....”.

A Maser' down at Fisherman's Wharf

For $11 today we got an all day pass on the cable car, which we reckoned paid for itself on the first ride. We got talking to the brakeman who gave us a run-down on how the cable system works, and helped diffuse the angst he was building coping with the tourist load, 16 cable cars, and around 20-30,000 tourists around the route at any one time. We were come upon by a “professional” guide who dispenses advice for a tip, and he was worth it. We dodged the 1000 odd queue and got aboard a couple of blocks up the street, and have spent most of the day riding up and down the “Bullitt” hills, poking nose in shops and bars, incl a spin round and up and down the Wellfield Plaza shopping mall labyrinth.

Tomorrow we pick the bikes up.

I'm getting an ST1300 Honda. The Yamaha FJR I ordered got pranged last week

World's crookedest St

Down at the Wharf, Alcatraz in the background