Christmas and living the dream

We celebrated Christmas in English style by having a huge dinner comprising turkey with all the trimmings and Christmas pudding, watching the Queen’s speech over the internet and playing board games. There were ten of us in total, which meant starting the cooking at about 9 a.m. and working continuously for several hours to keep everybody fed and watered, but I’m not complaining as I enjoy it greatly: there are so many delicious components to Christmas dinner which make it very rewarding to cook. All the more so when you have an immense American oven and a cavernous American fridge, made for the job. It was a lovely day here, so the views from the apartment were great. In the evening, we had three more guests arrive, which heralded the game of White Elephant Secret Santa (Secret Santa with the added possibility of being able to steal other people’s gifts). A good time was had by all and the pics are available here: http://public.fotki.com/EllenHardwick/christmas-in-san-fran/ (password: moocow).

Health-wise, it wasn’t a very good week for me. I had no appetite after my food poisoning/stomach bug last Saturday night and didn’t start to want to eat again until Thursday. I also managed to catch a cold – probably as a result of having a low immune system and also as a result of people coming into work who should really stay home, but don’t because they don’t get paid, as there’s no sick pay system here. I was at work all week, apart from Tuesday, as there’s no concept of Boxing Day in the States, but it was pretty quiet. Jon had the week off and went to Napa with a couple of friends on Friday, touring the vineyards. I was seriously tempted to pull a sickie and go too, but didn’t in the end, mainly because the weather was really uninviting. He enjoyed himself, though, as for once someone else was driving. He ended up bringing back four bottles and a magnum of champagne.

Saturday was really poor weather-wise: drizzly and cold. We didn’t do a huge amount: food shopping, coffee at Caffè Sapore (thank God they do loyalty cards!), hat shopping (for Jon) at the amazing store on Washington Square, then a DVD in the afternoon. We watched a new film partly set in San Francisco, but aside from the stunning shots of the city, it wasn’t very good. In the evening, we took the cable car to a French restaurant I’d been wanting to try on Nob Hill. The food was very good, but I have now been sufficiently Americanised as to wonder where the rest of my portion was!

It dawned a beautiful morning today, so I made Jon get up and take me out running, as I felt better and wanted to do some exercise after all the slobbing around of the past week. For a change, we went in the car to Crissy Field, which is where we usually turn around when we run from the flat, and jogged from there along the waterfront to Fort Point, just under the Golden Gate Bridge, and back. A tour guide was regaling a group with grim tales of the bridge's suicides (at least two people jump every month). Spied a couple of pelicans, although I think that most of them have gone wherever they go for the winter now. There were also some crazy surfers and lots of dogs, as usual, many jogging with their owners. It was stunning.

After a hearty (late) breakfast, we drove to super-posh Seacliff in the West of the city and did a little walk from there. It’s one we’ve done many times, but this time we found a new path leading down to a beach strewn with the remains of a shipwreck. There were some wonderful viewpoints along the way, and the rocky beach was being dramatically pounded by huge waves in the afternoon sun. Someone had also been engaged in rock balancing, which only served to add to the rugged beauty of the place. En route, we saw dolphins leaping along on their way down the coast. Whenever I go to this area, I’m amazed by its sheer natural splendour, which is all the more surprising, given that it’s still in the “city”.

In the late afternoon, we headed downtown, first through North Beach, where we took a coffee at a café on Columbus, then through the heart of Chinatown down Grant Avenue. We went around a few shops but didn’t find anything, hampered by the eternal problems of shopping in the sales, so we caught the cable car back. For a change, we took the Powell-Hyde car, which I’d never been on before, but that’s the one that scales the most vertiginous hills. We got off at the top of Lombard Street, which is where the famously sinuous part is, and made our way down to the apartment, enjoying the night-time vistas over the city: the twinkling lights of Alcatraz, Coit Tower, the Bay Bridge and the skyscrapers of the financial district. People must be bored of me waxing lyrical about the place all the time, but I still feel like I’m in a dream or on a film set every time I step outside the door or even look out of my window. Every day is gorged with sensations, all within a few square miles.

Note that I'm sporting my new ski jacket in the picture, as well as my ear muffs (Christmas present!) from the cool shop on Washington Square.

Not an entirely Heavenly weekend

Eager to use our season lift passes for the first time, we headed up to Lake Tahoe on Friday night with a group of friends (eight of us in total, in two cars). We made it there safely, even though I was somewhat worried about the road conditions: it was pretty icy in places, and in fact the temperature went down as low as -14°C. Our motel was right by the lake, and we had a great “suite” that slept up to eight people, so it was perfect, except for the fact that the hot tub was out of action.

We awoke to a sunny morning on Saturday and went to get our lift passes and skis. This took ages – there were lots of people. Once we’d sorted all that out, it was up on the gondola (which affords truly amazing views over the lake as you head up) to take in the runs of the Heavenly ski resort (that’s its name, really). While it’s still quite early in the season, which meant that a few runs were closed, the snow was pretty good and we had a really nice day’s skiing. I managed not to fall over at all. Jon did a few times, but mainly when he was trying to be clever, by doing jumps, for example. It’s hard to describe just how incredible the views are from up there. You can look down to the vast lake on one side of the mountain range, then down much further to a huge expanse of plains on the other, probably about 7,000 feet below. Unfortunately, I forgot my camera, so I can’t share it with you!

In the evening, we had a curry that Chris (one of our party) had made, then went out to a bar in one of the casinos. They really are weird places. Interesting to take a look at, but far from being my cup of tea! Certainly a very different world from San Francisco, peopled by a wide variety of folk, some of whom could easily be rednecks and probably quite a few of whom vote for George Bush. I couldn’t believe how much hassle I was given trying to get into the bar. Now, to go into most bars in America, you need to show ID, even when you’re clearly over the minimum drinking age of 21. So, I always carry my UK driver’s licence around for that very purpose. However, they didn’t like that at Cabo Wabo (the Tahoe bar) and asked for U.S. issued ID. Well, it just so happened that I had my U.S. Department of Homeland Security Work Authorization card on me, because I’d brought it as photo ID for my lift pass, but the guy didn’t like that either and had to call his manager over. Bear in mind – all this is just to determine that I’m over the age of 21! Anyway, they finally let me in, but what a joke! Especially as I only ended up drinking water anyway!

Back at the motel, I had maybe a couple of hours’ sleep before waking up feeling nauseous. The rest of the night was spent on the toilet. I suppose I’ll never know what it was: food poisoning, stomach bug… even altitude sickness was suggested, but needless to say, Sunday was a complete write-off. Jon very sweetly went out to get me drinks and Imodium in the morning, and took my skis back, while I lay around unable to do anything. Everyone went off skiing, and all I could do was sit in the reception area (got kicked out of the room at 11:30 am), dropping off every now and then, until they all returned. At least it was a nice reception – sofas, fire pit, Christmas tree, view of lake and snowy mountains – but it didn’t compensate for missing a day of skiing in near perfect conditions. It was then a long drive back to San Francisco, with a dinner stop at a diner in Vacaville, followed by a very deep sleep for me!
I went to work today, while Jon did the shopping, picked up the turkey and made more mince pies. I got an emergency call at lunchtime because there were no brussels sprouts in Safeway or Trader Joe's, but I got lucky in the supermarket near my work. Tomorrow we’re catering for ten. It should be good fun – just hope I have some appetite back by then.

Not an especially blog-worthy weekend

Just a quick blog this time, as I don’t think there’s a huge amount to say. So, what have I done in the last week or so? Well, last Wednesday I went to see a friend from work play with his band in a bar, which was fun, although the lead singer was possibly the cheesiest guy on earth! On Thursday, I went to see a film at the Alliance Française, touted to be a French Christmas flick. Well, it was the usual stuff so typical of French films – lots of moodiness, infidelity and nothing really tied up at the end, but at least it was good for my language practice! Especially since I got to chat to work friend Elizabeth’s native speaker Algerian husband. Wow, that was a complex sentence!

On Saturday we did lots of cooking: Jon baked mince pies and I made two Christmas puddings. The mince pies are great – you’ll have to wait for a verdict on the puddings. In the evening it was my office Christmas party at a fairly upscale restaurant called “Paragon”, located south of Market Street. The food was great. We also had an open bar, which for me turned out to be not such a good idea. However, it was a fun night, even if it was then followed by the apparently post-thirty (trentagenarian?) concept of the two-day hangover, which was not so enjoyable. Don’t worry: I’ve vowed NEVER to do it again! So, not a great amount got accomplished on Sunday, but we did try out another North Beach Italian restaurant in the evening and then went to see the Christmas decorations downtown.

The other thing I did at the office party was invite three more people to Christmas dinner. I’m now up to ten! Yikes! Ordered a free-range turkey from the Farmer’s Market at the Ferry Building yesterday for pick-up on Christmas Eve. I’ll let you know how it goes!

Christmas is a-coming

Had a cold last week – I blame the guy who drove the shuttle from the airport, who was making some terrible snuffly noises! Decided to go downtown to do some shopping on Saturday. Jon had some Christmas shopping to do and I wanted to buy something to wear at our office parties. It’s no less hectic shopping in the weeks before Christmas over here: Union Square and Macy’s were packed. Didn’t find anything for the parties, but I did get a new pair of jeans and a handbag. It was then a mad rush to get ready for Jon’s company Christmas party when we got back. We caught the cable car back to Union Square and went to the dinner at the Sir Francis Drake Hotel. It was certainly a fun evening, although I didn’t think the food was that great. Afterwards we went to a couple of bars: one near the hotel and then the classic Savoy Tivoli back in North Beach. Carefully avoided giving my opinion on George Bush to Jon’s Republican office manager.

Sunday was another beautiful, sunny day, which filled me with a desire to go out for a long walk. This couldn’t be achieved until I’d gone out to the corner shop to get bacon and then cooked pancakes to help cure Jon of his hangover. I did persuade him to go for a hike, though. On the way, we stopped by the English grocery shop to get some mincemeat for mince pies, which don’t exist over here. We then headed over the Golden Gate to Marin County and did a pleasant six-mile hike up into the hills and around a valley, which offered views of Mount Tamalpais, the North Bay, San Francisco and the ocean with the Farallon Islands in the distance. Saw a few hawks flying around, but no large felines, even though we were on the Bobcat Trail.

On our way back, we stopped at Fort Mason, where Christmas trees were being sold from one of the covered piers. We went in and chose one (pretty pricey), then had fun trying to work out how to fit it in the BMW without scratching the leather seats. Back at the flat, we decorated the tree and Jon set about his pastry “dry run” – making coconut macaroons and raspberry tarts before setting about the mince pies. Before we knew it, it was the end of another weekend. However, I started the week off well with a lovely jog this morning along the waterfront. The views across the Bay to the Bridge are truly amazing as the sun rises.

Second week in Mexico

We were glad to get out of hurricane-struck Mahahual, which was pretty depressing, even though our hosts went to such great efforts to make our stay as pleasant as possible. From there, we drove to the Calakmul Biosphere Reserve, a UNESCO World Heritage site. We were now in rural Mexico, a very different world from the reasonably well-off tourist hotspots up the coast. On the way, we visited the Mayan site at Becan, which had a good array of structures including a classic stepped pyramid.

I was a bit disappointed with our accommodation. It was quite expensive, and the website looked wonderful, so I was expecting “luxury in the jungle”. Rather, it was a case of woefully inadequate mosquito nets, expensive but less than stellar food, and a grumpy waiter/receptionist who only spoke Spanish. Now, although I’m a linguist, I’ve never learnt Spanish; I understand the written language pretty well, but was struggling with communication in my pidgin creation, which consisted of speaking Italian and throwing in the odd Spanish word! It was also incredibly hot and humid there, and we were kept awake by weird growlings, which turned out to be howler monkeys (pretty cool!). The good thing about the place was that it was well located for visiting the Mayan city of Calakmul itself, set deep in the heart of the jungle near the border with Guatemala, some 60km down a narrow dead-end road. We wandered around for ages, wondering what all the fuss was about, then finally stumbled on a huge pyramid. Once we’d climbed it and got above the trees, we had a fabulous view: jungle in every direction as far as the eye could see, with the odd partially excavated Mayan structure poking out above the canopy. On the way back to the car, Jon spied a toucan, but I missed it. We did, however, see several parakeets, wild turkeys and a tarantula.

From Calakmul, we moved on to Campeche, a pleasant colonial town on the Gulf of Mexico coast. We hadn’t planned to go there, but we were both craving a return to civilisation! It was a lovely place: historic cobbled streets lined with colonial-style homes in a palette of pastel shades. We had dinner at a restaurant overlooking the central plaza with its classic twin-towered cathedral. The next day, we continued to the larger city of Mérida. It too had an attractive colonial-style plaza, and we did a bus tour to get our bearings. However, I wasn’t wild about the place. It may have had a million inhabitants but it felt provincial, was polluted, confusing and rather worn. We had just one night there, rather than the two we had planned, and moved on to Chichen Itza afterwards, the best preserved and most famous of the Mayan sites in the area. The hotel there was a pleasant surprise: it was really cheap, yet it was friendly and had a couple of pleasant sun decks and swimming pools. On the first day, we visited some caves with more stalactites and stalagmites, where Mayans had left hundreds of jars as offerings to the gods. It was a bit spooky, especially since it was inhabited by a good number of bats. In the evening, we went to the sound and light show at the great pyramid, saving our more extensive visit of the site for the next day. We went early, to get a head start on the coach-loads of visitors from Cancun. There were lots of structures dating from around 800 to 1200 A.D., including a fabulous ball court, a platform decorated with carvings of skulls (where the Mayans actually displayed the heads of their enemies and human sacrifices) and an impressive central pyramid. What surprised me, however, was how little is known about the purpose of the buildings and the ceremonies the Mayans performed. There are several structures that the Spanish conquistadors named according to what they looked like to them – an observatory and a nunnery, for example – which are still not properly identified even today. Chichen Itza was certainly impressive, but not as fun as Calakmul, which really had that “lost in the jungle” feel, where you could scale the pyramids to your heart’s content (they were all roped off at Chichen Itza).

We took a long detour up to a remote fishing village on the northern coast of the peninsula called Rio Lagartos, an area of wetlands rich in wildlife. Travelling up there was a pleasure – we passed through several, “typically” Mexican villages, with old churches, sunny plazas, children playing. When we got to our destination, we managed to commandeer a boat and captain to take us on a ride to see the flamingo colony. The birds were some distance away, but it was still lovely to see them in the wild. The water of the lagoon they inhabited was ultra-salty and tinged pink by beta carotene in the clay, which was also the cause of their colouring. On the way back we saw a crocodile. The boatman put on a show by slapping the water and encouraging the croc to come so close that he could grab its tail! We also saw a fish eagle and an osprey. It was then a long drive to downtown Cancun, where we spent the night in a nice hotel, revelling in the cleanliness!

Our flight was in the afternoon, so we went to the airport via the “Zona hotelera” (the hotel zone) of Cancun, a long row of gargantuan, primarily upscale hotels strung out along narrow islands enclosing a lagoon on one side, with the Caribbean Sea on the other, connected to the mainland by a series of bridges. This is what Cancun is famous for, but I really disliked it. Sure, the sea is an incredible colour, ranging from brightest turquoise near the white sand shoreline to deepest blue on the horizon. However, it’s a completely fabricated place, constructed with little thoughtfulness, and most of the hotels are just plain ugly. I don’t know what people see in it, but I was glad we’d gone to take a look. I had some criticisms about the trip as a whole, but two weeks in Cancun would have been miserable!

We were relieved to make the rather tight connection in Mexico City and arrived back to a rather chilly San Francisco late yesterday evening to find signs of Christmas cheer everywhere: lights around the skyscrapers and even a brightly lit tree on Angel Island, which we see behind Alcatraz from the apartment. Today we awoke to the sound of our own flock of parrots chattering loudly as they passed by in their morning flight, and were glad to be home in our beloved city with drinking water on tap, decent plumbing and a distinct lack of mosquitoes! I know I sound terribly condescending and don’t mean to – it’s just that you appreciate these things more when you’ve not had them for a while! We had lots of chores, but took a short jog in the afternoon, delighting in the fact that the beaches are open again and there’s no longer a smell of oil after the spill. We’re still having a nightmare sorting our remortgage out for the house back home (boring!), so I’m crossing my fingers for that as well as hoping that the return to work won’t be too much of a shock tomorrow. Photos from Mexico are available here: http://public.fotki.com/EllenHardwick/mexico/ (password: moocow)

First week in Mexico

Our first stop after landing in Cancun was Playa del Carmen, some 60km to the south, a lively, yet laid'back town. The first day was divided between the beach and shopping (Jon bought lots of clothes), rounded off by a tasty meal of ceviche and paella, then drinks at an outdoor bar with live music.

Heavy rain greeted us the next morning. The place where we had breakfast even starteed flooding! We beat a hasty retreat from the town and headed for our next destination, Tulum, just 40km or so down the coast. The rain continued for much of the journey, but managed to keep off while we visited our first Mayan ruin, dramatically positioned on rocky terrain with the Caribbean Sea as a backdrop. We then moved on to our accommodation, a wooden cabin, or cabaña, by the sea, fronting a lovely palm-fringed beach. It was in a type of eco-resort, so there was no electricity which meant that everything had to be done by candlelight after around 5:30pm.

While staying in Tulum, we went on a couple of excursions. The first was to a group of cenotes or underground pools/rivers, featuring spectacular stalagmites and stalactites. We did a guided snorkel tour of two cenotes - the first large and airy, the second just a series of unlit narrow tunnels, so pretty claustrophobic! The water was so clear and the cenotes so deep and expansive, that looking down felt almost like flying.

Our second excursion was into the Siaan Kaan biosphere reserve. We took a speedboat trip on a vast lagoon, which was home to crocodiles (spied one resting menacingly by the shore, mouth agape) and many birds. We headed up a river and visited a small Mayan temple, before taking a swim (really a "drift" with the current) through the mangroves.

Our stay in Tulum also included some time on the beautiful, white sand beach and even a free (and rather painful!) morning yoga class. The downside of staying in a beach hut was that it was impossible to keep the mosquitoes at bay, which readily munched us both, and everything got more or less covered with sand. At US$115 per night, primitive living certainly came at a price.

After 3 nights in Tulum and a last barefoot jog along the beach, we continued our journey to Mahahual, which the guidebook had described as an idyllic fishing village south of the biosphere. The two-hour car journey there, down dead-straight roads, flanked on either side by flat rainforeest and punctuated by just one town, was tedious in the extreme. Soon after turning off the main road to drive the last 50km to Mahahual, I remarked on a metal road gantry, which had been bent double. Then I saw another and another. Jon mused than maybe this was hurricane damage. The news reports of Hurricane Dean had stated that little damage had occurred in Mexico, as the main force had only hit a rural area. the hotel had informed us that they were carrying out some light repairs and offered a reduced rate, so I´d imagined a charming, white-washed little town with maybe a bit of roofing work going on. How stupid I felt at not having researchyed further when we arrived at what had once been Mahahual, much favoured by cruise-ship toursits, now nothing short of a wreck. The town had been completely destroyed with barely a building left standing, the few remaining palm trees sad and bent, the mangrove backdrop dead, debris covering the beach, skinny dogs picking their way through the rubble. Of course, we were the only guests at our hotel.

At first, I was angry at the Dutch owner, Carolien, for not spelling the situation out to us, but then the anger gave way to compassion, especially after we´d taken a stroll around the "town". We very nearly decided to leave the next day, but decided to make the best of it when we saw the beautiful room, restored so lovingly, and when carolien told us she could get someone to take us on a snorkel trip to the nearby reef. It wasn´t the big adventure to the Chinchorro atoll that I´d planned, because that was badly damaged by the hurricane, apparently, but it was something. The reef was actually in remarkably good condition (I´d feared the worst after seeing a graveyard of conch shells and corel sea fans piled up on the beach) and there were plenty of colourful fish to be seen. Unfortunately, the trip was cut short by Jon injuring himself on a sea urchin (I heard him moaning, then saw a hand waving around with spines protruding from it). The boat man told Jon that the vessel were in had been found 5km down the coast after the hurricane.

Back at the hotel, there was really nothing to do. The weather was looking ominous, but we were hungry, so headed into "town" and had chicken fajitas in the most sturdy-looking cafe we could find, which was still a far cry from anywhere I´d normally eat in. I suspect we were their only lunch customes, but at least we were doing something to help the local economy!

We´ve done more since I jotted all this down on hand-written notes, but I´ll save that for the next blog, as I have to go to dinner now!

Oily trouble

Last Wednesday, in dense fog, a cargo ship crashed into the blocked-off area protecting the Bay Bridge from collisions. The crash created a gash in the side of the ship, through which leaked 58,000 gallons of oil. There have been criticisms that the relevant agencies were not informed quickly enough, and the oil was allowed to spread for several hours before action was taken. The end result is many oiled birds and pollution throughout the area. We experienced it first hand on Sunday when we went for our usual jog to Crissy Field. All the beaches were cordoned off, and there was a distinct smell of oil at nearby Aquatic Park. A dead seabird lay on the steps leading down to the beach. Rangers were out looking for injured wildlife at Crissy Field. It was heart-breaking.

We stuck around San Francisco at the weekend, but had a night out with our friend, Rob on Friday night. He flew back to England on Saturday. We had a cocktail at his very glamourous hotel downtown, followed by dinner at Café Prague, an authentic corner of Eastern Europe in California, then headed to Vesuvio for more drinks! It rained all day on Saturday, but we went over to Berkeley in the evening to James’ place for a poker night. Of course, we lost! Sunday was a beautiful day. After our jog, we went tea-tasting in Chinatown. I’d been meaning to do that for ages. We purchased a Siberian rose tea and a green tea. Then, in the evening, we headed to the cinema at the Embarcadero Center for a screening that formed part of the International Film Festival. My friends from Italian class had come up with the idea of going, because the first film was an Italian one. It was preceded by a reception in an art gallery and a brief introduction by the producer. However, none of us really understood the film, and that had nothing to do with the language, but rather the excessively large number of characters and the complete lack of plot cohesion.

We’re now getting ready for our trip to Mexico. I’ve been working hard, so I’m really ready for a break. The holiday will almost certainly mean there’ll be a break in blogging, for which I apologize.

Quaking earth and legs

Last Tuesday we had an earthquake – the biggest we’ve experienced, and, as it happens, the biggest in the Bay Area since Loma Prieta in 1989. I was still at work, even though it was just after 8 p.m. The room shook around for a good thirty seconds, but when I went out on the street afterwards, everyone was acting like nothing had happened! It was 5.6 on the Richter scale with an epicentre near San Jose.

Wednesday was Halloween. We didn’t do anything to celebrate it, but a few people dressed up at work. I hadn’t fully appreciated the fact that Americans use Halloween as an excuse to dress up as anything, not necessarily as something scary, so it was slightly odd to be in the office with a Roman and a sexy nurse. On Friday, however, we went down to the Mission district for an event that was much more Halloween than Halloween for me, the “Día de los Muertos”, or Day of the Dead. This is traditionally a Mexican celebration, but has of course been fully adopted in the Hispanic quarter of the city. It comprised a parade of people dressed in ghoulish attire, such as skeleton costumes, carrying candles for lost loved ones. The procession ended at a park, where local artists had made shrines, some of which were really ingenious – there was even a car that had been turned into a memorial. It is intended as a day to celebrate the dead rather than a sad and mournful occasion. Afterwards we got some food at a Taqueria, but for once it was a bit disappointing.

Yesterday, after a week of feeling fatigued and not wanting to exercise, we decided it was time to grace the gym with our presence. It was a beautifully sunny and warm day, so in the afternoon, after enjoying a coffee on the terrace of our favourite café, we hired bikes for a couple of hours and cycled to the Golden Gate Bridge and back, stopping off at the beach briefly along the way. It was hard to believe that one of the best beach days of the year was with us in November! Afterwards, we headed downtown to do a spot of shopping, then grabbed some dinner in Chinatown on the way back.

Today, we awoke to another gorgeous morning, which was even better for being an hour longer – the clocks went back in the night, a week later than in the U.K. We set off on our run, but were thwarted after only five minutes or so, when we reached the beach at Aquatic Park, because there was a Half Marathon going on, which ended there and blocked our usual running route. We decided to run to the Ferry Building on the Embarcadero instead, so set off in that direction, taking in the sealions on Pier 39 en route – at my insistence. We stopped at the end of the huge wooden pier by the Ferry Building and admired the view, before setting off back. There’s no obvious return route from there, but I suggested that we should really challenge ourselves by “jogging” up the Greenwich Steps. This is a staircase comprising several hundred steps, which clings to the steep eastern side of Telegraph Hill leading to Coit Tower. Well, there wasn’t much jogging done, as even walking up was enough to give most people a heart attack, but managed to get up and back down the other side, and it made for a scenic route home.

Rob, our friend from university who works for Google, came over late morning, and we set out to Marin to enjoy a bit of hiking. We didn’t end up walking as far as we’d intended, because the car park for our chosen hike was full, but we strolled some of the trails on the top of Mount Tamlpais, which afforded truly spectacular views of the city, ocean, Point Reyes and the Bolinas Lagoon. It turned out well for us, as our legs weren’t really up to the 1,500 feet descent and ascent we’d originally planned – not after the earlier Greenwich Steps jaunt, anyway. We then drove down to Stinson Beach and bought ice cream, which we enjoyed on the sand. There were plenty of people out sunbathing and splashing around. I had a good paddle myself in the deliciously cold water, then soaked up some sunshine. We drove back on stunning Highway 1 and dropped Rob off at his hotel downtown.

Birthday Banqueting

Went to the dentist on Friday. Not a happy experience. In spite of having dental insurance, which both I and work pay into, they still found $2,000 worth of work that “needed” doing, of which I’d have to pay about $1,000. I had been warned that this might happen. After spouting huffily about how expensive it was and how I’d never had to pay that much, even when subjected to 100% costs in the UK, they commented about how they had to fix a lot of “bad dentistry” from Europe. Hm. I think they have to fix their books so they can afford to pay the four or so people who came and asked me if I wanted a drink (“hang on a minute, silly me, I thought this was a dentist’s, not a café”) and bail themselves out from the x number of lawsuits that get filed against them each year, because this is California after all. To help me get over the shock, we went out with Mark, Ollie and Tom from Jon’s work for cocktails in the evening. I had a sumptuous chocolatey one.

The weekend began rather hazy, but cleared to leave a couple of pleasantly warm, sunny days. On Saturday morning I had the important mission of going to get Jon’s birthday present, so it was off on the cable car downtown for me. In the afternoon, we headed over to Berkeley, where James and Emma have just started renting a house in the hills. It was a lovely place, complete with an overgrown garden looking down on to the bay and even an outbuilding. We bought picnic stuff, which we enjoyed in the Rose Garden, before pootling off down the hill, first to a rather creepy “bone shop” that Emma wanted to show us (it sold skeletons, not just animal ones), then to a purportedly British-style pub (its Britishness was undermined when Jon’s request for pork scratchings was greeted with blank looks). We played poker (just for chips – gambling’s illegal unless you’re on an Indian reservation – I’m not joking!) and for once I didn’t lose.

I’d been told that Saturday would be the best night for going to the Castro, the gay heartland of San Francisco, to see the Halloween festivities. Halloween in the Castro is much talked about, but it can draw in trouble-makers, which last year led to a stabbing, so I’d been advised that the Saturday before would be a better option. It was after nine when we arrived, so the party was definitely getting started and there was indeed some good people-watching to be done. Costumes ranging from jellyfish outfits to seventies divas, and that was just the men! Unfortunately, my camera battery had run out, so I don’t have any photographic evidence.

Sunday was Jon’s birthday. We slept in a bit, and he awoke in alarm, having forgotten an arrangement to Skype with his Dad. After opening his few cards and presents, we headed out for a jog so that we could earn our breakfast. We’d intended to go to Mama’s, supposedly a legendary brunch place on Washington Square. For us, it still remains the stuff of legends, because the line was so immense that we decided to abort the mission and go somewhere else instead, which still managed to do a satisfyingly stodgy American breakfast with pancakes, eggs, bacon and unlimited coffee. Afterwards, we took a hike up Telegraph Hill, because I had it in mind to see where the writer of The Wild Parrots of Telegraph Hill might live. Of course, there was no sign to show the exact spot, but I got a sense of the type of place he must inhabit by clambering down (and back up) the Greenwich steps, with homes clinging to the steep hillside on either side.

I proposed we take a frisbee to the beach in the afternoon, but we ended up wandering out onto the pier with the historic ships instead. We boarded the Balcultha, a cargo ship built in Scotland in 1886, and were amused by the group of kids who had the good fortune to be on some kind of field trip that involved them staying overnight on the ship and pretending to be sailors. We also went on an old ferry boat that used to take passengers over to Marin and was built for pre-Golden Gate bridge days. After that the wind had got up, making frisbee a tad tricky, to say in the least, so instead we strolled up to Ghirardelli Square, where the Ghirardelli chocolate factory used to be, and indulged in a hot cocoa. Upon leaving the café, our eyes were drawn to some kind of event that was going outside a pet shop. It appeared to be a convention for Yorkshire Terriers, all dressed up in silly costumes (we spotted a fairy, two pirates, a bee and a pumpkin) and having a go at each other. Jon mused on whether dogs are capable of feeling humiliation!

Jon fancied sushi for his birthday dinner and found a place on the Internet a mere five blocks away. It’s an area we don’t often go to, despite its proximity, because it involves scaling steep Russian Hill. However, it was worth the climb, as it was really good food in a beautiful restaurant. We topped off the evening with a drink in a nearby wine bar before descending the hill back to the apartment.

Jon had a call from his brother, James, while we were in the restaurant. We were a bit surprised by the time of the call, but he was just coming off a night shift at the hospital in Luton. Today, a lovely hamper of British goodies arrived for Jon from his family. Not shipped from the UK, which would be too tricky with customs etc., but rather from a mail-order place in Delaware. We’re looking forward to some baked beans and Hob nobs! (Not at the same time!)

Sunny days

Last week was a bit difficult – no Jon to cheer me up and lots of work! I did, however, meet my friend Randan from volunteering days on Wednesday for a delicious meal at a gem of a Vietnamese restaurant in the area known as “Little Saigon” in the Tenderloin (generally viewed as a rather dodgy bit of town, but it actually boasts a few good, unpretentious eateries). I worked late on Tuesday and Friday, but finally got my lovely husband back late on Friday evening. We had a few chores to do on Saturday, but spent much of the afternoon nursing a latte in Caffè Sapore and planning the trip to Mexico, which is now only about four weeks away! Afterwards Jon went to get his hair cut, while I went to soak up some sunshine in Washington Square.

I could write a whole blog about the experience of sitting in Washington Square on a sunny Saturday afternoon. It’s a pleasant patch of greenery, triangular rather than square, flanked on one side by the ornate white façade of St. Peter & St. Paul Church. Behind the buildings on the eastern side rises Coit Tower, atop wooded Telegraph Hill. On the southern side the tip of the Transamerica Pyramid pokes out above the classic Edwardian architecture. From the right spot you can also see the distant hills in Marin. It’s always alive with an eclectic group of dog-walkers, football-players, big kids with remote control flying machines (in this case, a dragonfly), families, artists, pot-smokers and tramps. You can browse the artwork for sale in the south-west corner, join the elderly Chinese folk for a bit of tai chi if you come early enough, or simply soak up the atmosphere and the sunshine. Relaxing there really is one of San Francisco’s pleasures.

In the evening, we went to a housewarming at Dave and Oli’s new flat (two of Jon’s work colleagues). The downside was that it was in Oakland in the East Bay, so it involved a slow bus journey through Chinatown to Market Street, then a trip on the BART to Oakland, and a rather long walk to their place along the banks of Lake Merritt. It was good to see everybody again, though.

Today we awoke to another beautiful day – as clear as yesterday, but warmer still. We started out with our jog to Crissy Field and back, revelling in the stunning views. We then headed for our favourite beach in Marin – Tennessee Beach – for a bit of rest and reading. It was as lovely as ever, but the waves were definitely bigger than I’d seen them before. We were both feeling tired, so fed our caffeine addiction at Caffè Sapore (again!) upon our return to the city, before heading out to meet my friends from Italian class at the Italian School fundraiser. It was held very close to us, at the Italian Athletic Club, which fronts onto Washington Square. We enjoyed the wine and nibbles, and I got to meet Gami’s new boyfriend, Nick. Both Candida and I expressed a wish to go up to the balcony, which was actually out of bounds, but we found it anyway! It was on these rooftops that Clint Eastwood staked out the serial killer in Dirty Harry. To finish the evening, we went for a nice gelato at another of my favourite spots in North Beach.

Back to work tomorrow – yuk! Especially as it’s forecast to be in the eighties on Tuesday! It really is incredible for late October. Something else I noticed the other day: by this time in the UK, all the shops are crammed with Christmas stuff, but there’s none of that here. It’s all Halloween at the moment, then after that it’ll be Thanksgiving. Christmas won’t hit until it’s actually December – how about that?! What a dream!

Departures and decadence

Yet another tough week at work – I’ve just got so much on! Still managed a couple of nights out with Dan and Michelle, though: the healthy delights of Samovar Tea Lounge followed by less healthy cocktails at the Top of the Mark on Thursday, then North Beach Italian (Café Divine on Washington Square) on Friday. For once, it was actually clear at the Top of the Mark and we were able to enjoy the views over the city and bay. Rob, our friend from university who now works for Google, is over for work, and he met us there. We were pretty much obliged to go out on Friday, even if we hadn’t planned to, as a power cut – presumably caused by the heavy rain we had that day – brought darkness to us and our immediate vicinity for some 12 hours.

Saturday was a day of departures. Dan and Michelle left for home – but not before doing a bit more sightseeing and meeting me for lunch at Caffè Sapore. The weather was glorious, so we sat outside in the sunshine. Jon also left – for New Hampshire, where he’s attending another test event. I headed over to see the sealions, whom I’d not visited for a while. There were hordes of them, and they were either sleeping or fighting in highly amusing fashion. After doing some food shopping, I returned home and then headed out to the famed City Lights Bookstore. I’d decided it was time to read some more San Franciscan literature, and purchased The Wild Parrots of Telegraph Hill, as I’d grown interested in them after seeing or hearing them most days for the last several months.

Today I awoke to fog, but still headed out on my 5½ mile run to Crissy Field and back. I then got ready to go and meet Rob, who, it turns out, is staying in a fabulous hotel downtown, with a lobby like an art gallery. We took the bus out to a rather grey Cliff House, perched on a rock above the ocean. We indulged ourselves in a champagne buffet brunch to the sound of harp music, which felt very decadent indeed. It was only right that we should take some exercise after gorging ourselves so heartily, so we took the coastal trail up to Seacliff, onto Baker Beach and beyond to the Golden Gate. Bizarrely, the fog was only hanging over the ocean side, while the bay enjoyed relatively sunny skies. We picked our way down to Crissy Field and headed on to the Marina District, past the lovely Palace of Fine Arts. After more than six miles of hiking from Cliff House, we were certainly ready for a hot beverage. My own new tipple is a chai latte – a gorgeous spiced tea with frothy milk. It was then back on the bus – to North Beach for me and downtown for Rob. Spoke to Jon on the phone. He’s arrived safely and successfully set up today. I miss him already, though!

L.A. or bust

I flew out on Friday evening to Los Angeles to join Jon, Dan and Michelle, who’d driven down there in a convertible Mustang they hired from San Francisco. They’d had a great time taking in the stunning Big Sur coast on the way down and visiting Hearst Castle, an absurdly opulent stately home. I’ll have to let Jon blog separately about his experiences en route.

We stayed in Venice Beach, at an art déco hotel rather past its best. Venice Beach turned out to be a rather schizophrenic place – very hip and trendy during the day, with lots of people roller-blading, selling art and otherwise parading down the promenade by a perfect palm-lined beach. However, at night it was a different story. Absolutely dead (nothing open) and populated only by drunks, drug dealers and the homeless. Really quite dangerous. Fortunately, Jon, Dan and Michelle had already found this out on the first night, so I didn’t have to subject myself to it personally! On the second night a fight broke out just outside the hotel – lovely!

After a hearty breakfast on Saturday, we headed up to the Getty Museum, which had been recommended to me by a colleague. This comprises an amazing collection of superbly designed buildings atop a bluff with panoramic views of the city, ocean and Santa Monica Mountains, accessed by a monorail from the car park. The buildings house the Getty Foundation art collection, an eclectic mix of pieces ranging from medieval manuscripts through the decorative arts to Monets and photography. It was such a beautiful space, with stunning architecture, fascinating art, gorgeous gardens and amazing vistas. The kind of stuff that’s good for your soul, especially after a difficult week. I particularly liked the Impressionist room, which included one of Van Gogh’s Iris paintings. Moreover it was free, since the Getty Foundation has so much money! We ended up spending a large part of the day there, before heading off to find the Hollywood sign (not easy!) and going for dinner at a Mexican in Santa Monica (just north of Venice, also on the coast). The food was great, but the service less than stellar.

On Sunday we enjoyed another nice breakfast at a café further down the promenade – a great place for people-watching. We then checked out and went to Hollywood Boulevard to look at the hand and footprints of the stars outside the Chinese Theatre, as well as the Walk of Fame. Didn’t spot any famous people, though – alas! Dan and Michelle dropped us off in Santa Monica, before setting off on the drive back to SF (we’d booked flights some weeks before, as we weren’t sure what their plans would be). We spent a bit of time on the beach (the weather was gorgeous) and browsing in the town, then flew back at just after 8 p.m. Amazingly, Dan and Michelle had a great drive and managed to beat us back!

It was a really fun and interesting weekend, but I was still happy to return to San Francisco. L.A. is a completely different place: really sprawling, which forces you to drive everywhere, and nowhere near as attractive. Not a place I’d want to live, in spite of the wonderful weather. I found myself looking down my nose at it a bit, which must mean I’m a true San Franciscan now! More photos are available on the Fotki site (http://public.fotki.com/EllenHardwick - password: moocow).

Opera and October sunshine

Went to the opera on Friday night – it was Tales of Hoffmann at the Legion of Honour in Lincoln Park. A nice drive up there with views of the ocean and Golden Gate. Opera isn’t usually my thing, but I did enjoy it – especially as they helpfully projected the words for the audience to read! We emerged to find a raccoon scavenging by the car, then saw another one cross the road as we drove off!

Jon had a cold and also needed to do his tax return on Saturday, so I headed off on my own: first for a run, then for a walk along the waterfront, from Crissy Field to the fort under the Golden Gate Bridge. The fort was open, and you could go right up onto the ramparts, overlooking the ocean and looking up to the bottom of the bridge, which is currently being retro-fitted to make it earthquake-proof - yikes! It was a beautiful day, and I enjoyed meandering along the beach, watching the pelicans in low flight and a sealion diving into the waves. No fewer than two wedding parties were picking their way out on to the sand for photographs.

Sunday was another lovely day weather-wise. We headed to Chinatown in the morning to make a purchase we’d been meaning to for a while: an iron teapot. We wandered back up to North Beach, taking in a new sight along the way: Waverly Place, with its ornate Chinese balconies. We had a sandwich at a table outside Caffè Greco on Columbus, then proceeded to Mara’s Italian Pastry Shop for a coffee and a shared dessert. We took in some sunshine in Washington Square and watched the start of a parade outside the St. Peter and St. Paul church, before heading home and getting ready to meet our visitors, Dan and Michelle, from the airport. In the late afternoon, we took them over the bridge to take in some views from the other side, then on to a fish restaurant in Sausalito.

It’s been a busy and rather difficult week at work for me. It was broken up by a pleasant trip to a posh Greek restaurant on Tuesday evening, where we also saw our friends, James and Emma, but otherwise it’s been a toughie. I’m now on my own, as Jon, Dan and Michelle left today to do a road-trip down the coast to Los Angeles – I’m flying down to meet them tomorrow evening. In other news, the area where we live (North Beach) has been designated one of America’s ten best neighbourhoods by the American Planning Association!

Entertaining

We’ve had Andy and Sarah Catherall to stay for just over a week. It’s been lovely to have friends from home. They went off to Yosemite for a couple of days at the end of last week, then returned in time for a big night out on Friday (dinner at the Empress of China, followed by beers in the San Francisco Brew Pub, then more drinks at the Savoy Tivoli), which resulted in me feeling pretty rough on Saturday. In full tour guide mode, however, I didn’t let this deter me, and subjected them to a gruelling day’s sightseeing, beginning with the farmers’ market at the Ferry Building (in which we ended up buying some flavoured olive oil and a piece of original artwork – a wire sculpture of a gorilla!), followed by snapping the Painted Ladies on Alamo Square, then on to hippy-spotting and CD-buying on Haight Street. After that, we jumped onto a random bus, which by chance took us exactly where we wanted to go – the Castro via the foot of Twin Peaks – for a quick look around there and then a stroll past Mission Dolores to Valencia Street.

It was then up earlyish on Sunday for another whirlwind tour: over the Golden Gate Bridge and on to Sonoma Valley for some wine-tasting. We made a quick stop at the viewpoint on the way, but quickly retreated to the car as we found ourselves in the vestiges of the previous day’s rain – yes RAIN! The first we’ve had since April. We visited Benziger Estate and went on a little guided tour around the vineyard, before tasting their lovely wines. Our ticket also entitled us to a tasting at their twin winery, called Imagery, because they commission artists to do paintings for each individual label. Afterwards, we drove across the hills to Point Reyes and showed our visitors the little Earthquake Trail, which passes along the San Andreas fault. It was then on to lovely Bolinas, for a stroll in the early evening sunshine by the lagoon and a hearty dinner at Coast Café. Finally, we zipped over to Stinson to watch the sunset from the beach before driving back to the city via the precipitous Highway 1, stopping to admire the moon reflected on the Bay just before crossing the Golden Gate again.

Andy and Sarah left today. I think they had a good time. It’s hard not to like San Francisco. Take today, for example. I woke up to a stunningly beautiful day and admired the view over the Bay to Alcatraz and Mount Tamalpais during breakfast, enjoying the sounds of the wild parrots chattering in their morning flight, the sealions’ barking carried on the wind and the jingling of the cable cars. I took a cable car to work, occasionally catching glimpses of the Bay Bridge and beyond it the Port of Oakland, whose cranes were the inspiration behind the At-At walkers (monsters) in Star Wars. I then changed onto a bus that took me over Nob Hill past Grace Cathedral and the stately Edwardian homes of Pacific Heights. I then (sadly) had to settle into a morning’s work, but strolled out at lunchtime to have my sandwich in Alta Plaza park, with its views over the hills and landmarks in the south of the city. After a tough afternoon’s work and a trip to the gym, I returned to the flat and an unusually balmy evening, enjoying watching the twinkling lights over the water. Not a bad life!

A quick blog!

I’m a bit late with my blogging this week. Didn’t really do a lot at the weekend other than help a friend move flats (from South of Market in San Francisco to the Lake Merritt area in Oakland) and get ready for the visit of friends from the UK. One of the biggest excitements of the week was when Jon hired a Rug Doctor and we (or rather he, if I’m to be honest) cleaned our carpet. He really got into it because it involves lots of technical stuff and a whole host of chemicals. Anyway, the results were absolutely amazing. Our rather disgusting, very marked carpet has been transformed into one that looks almost like new!

Our friends, Andy and Sarah, arrived on Sunday afternoon. We went out for dinner to a local Italian, then showed them the delights of our favourite, rather Bohemian bar, Vesuvio. The last couple of nights we’ve eaten in, but enjoyed hearing stories of their adventures out and about. They’ve actually just come from Witchita, Kansas, where they were staying with a distant relative of Sarah’s that she had met over the Internet. It sounds like they had an interesting time there – it’s right in the Bible Belt of Middle America!

I heard from Mum on Monday morning that Dad had been taken into hospital for a hernia operation. Apparently he’s OK, but obviously it was quite a shock. He’ll be in for about a week. It’s pretty awful that I can’t visit. All the best, Dad – can’t wait to talk to you!

I also had quite a shocking week at work last week, but it’s calming down a bit now. The fog seems to have gone, which is great, but along with the bright sunny days we also have cooler temperatures, although I believe that’s due to some odd Arctic front that will hopefully go away soon!

Beachcombing

Had a busy week at work, albeit a four-day one! It was, however, punctuated by a night out on Thursday: my friend Gami celebrated her birthday at the San Francisco Brew Pub. Having suffered the trauma of being the only bloke among nine women all night, Jon craved a bit of male company, so suddenly announced a wish to go and visit his colleague, Ollie, who had been off “sick” (read: got drunk wine-tasting in Napa Valley and fell off his bike – admittedly causing quite a severe knee injury), so we promptly headed off to his place for another couple of hours, getting to bed very late for a “school” night!

On Saturday we headed up to Point Reyes, and did a rather foggy hike to the beach. It was such a shame that everything was so grey, because it’s a beautiful area. Still, the deer and pelicans didn’t seem to mind! Afterwards, we had an early dinner in hippy Bolinas, before heading to Stinson Beach and a holiday home belonging to my friend’s parents. Stacey – a friend from Shanti – had found out that there had been a late cancellation (the house is rented for much of the year), so organised a barbecue without further ado. We knew we were going somewhere special when we were greeted by a guard ready to take our details at the end of the road. We later found out that the writer, Danielle Steele, and the former mayor of San Francisco have properties here. The houses are strung along a narrow spit of land with the ocean on one side, and a large tidal lagoon on the other. There is even a second spit sheltering another, smaller lagoon. Stacey’s parents’ place was located opposite this small lagoon, directly on the beach, with steps leading down the dunes onto the sand. (Click here to see the location.) It was a gorgeous house. Four bedrooms and three bathrooms, all set around a planted courtyard with a huge kitchen-diner and living room looking out over the ocean. We had a lovely room with small windows facing the hilly backdrop and a little skylight directly above the bed. The next morning, we all took a walk down the beach to the village – a good mile away – to get that all-American essential, coffee. Then it was back to the house and a swift assembling of food for some 50 guests – children and dogs included. The rest of the day was spent eating, drinking, chatting, dog-patting and hoping that the sun would come out, which it eventually did in the late afternoon, and bathed the sand and mountains in golden light. We finally took our leave and headed back to the city down stunning Highway 1, which hugs the rugged coast for a good few miles before crossing to the other side.

I was still restless when I got home, so decided to go for a little walk. Headed up Telegraph Hill to Coit Tower and joined the tourists watching the sun set over the Golden Gate Bridge – the peace disturbed only by the barks of sealions – before strolling down to Washington Square, past music-filled restaurants, the lovely St. Peter and St. Paul Church, old Chinese ladies out on their evening walk and the odd tramp settling in for the night. The good and the bad – mostly good – it’s all part of the fabric of a city I’ve come to love.

From Mountain Wonderland to the Wild West

We’ve just enjoyed a three-day weekend, as yesterday was Labor Day. Not being ones to stick around in one place for very long, we headed to Yosemite and the Eastern High Sierra. We’d decided to concentrate on a different part of the park, specifically the eastern end along the Tioga road, near Tuolumne Meadows. With its highest point at almost 10,000 feet above sea level, the Tioga Pass is covered in snow for much of the year and only open for about four months. We did one serious hike: a long (14 mile), but not too difficult trek from Tenaya Lake to Cloud’s Rest, which affords fabulous vistas in every direction, including a view straight down Tenaya Canyon into Yosemite Valley . On Monday, we did a couple of shorter walks – one through lovely alpine meadows to the naturally carbonated Soda Springs, and one up through the forest to Elizabeth Lake. We sighted lots of chipmunks and deer (including a doe with two fawns), but no bears! Part of me wants to see one and part of me would be terrified, but they’re so elusive! In summary, I was delighted with this area of Yosemite: a stunning landscape with lots of lakes and far fewer crowds, resulting in a quasi-religious communion with nature.

The other part of our trip was spent beyond the park gates on the eastern side. The Tioga Pass emerges near the weird and wonderful Mono Lake. Dubbed the “Dead Sea of California” by Mark Twain, it is 2.5 times as salty as sea water and lies in a huge desert-like basin at six and a half thousand feet elevation, sporting bizarre limestone formations on its shores called tufa. We had visited it on our big California road-trip back in 1999, so it was a bit of a blast from the past for us: we even stayed in the same motel and ate at the same diner, which isn’t hard given that the only inhabited place is barely a village with some 300 odd residents and seems to live entirely off the passing summer tourist trade. We marvelled at the tufa and swam – or rather floated – in the lake, experiencing the added buoyancy the salinity affords, but not liking the thick layer of salt it left on our skin!

On Sunday we also took a trip a short distance north to the ghost town of Bodie, 13 miles off the highway, three of them dirt. Bodie came about and enjoyed its short-lived heyday in the 1870s, when gold was discovered in the arid hills surrounding it. Declining yields and two major fires led to its demise, and it was finally abandoned for good in the early 1930s. Bar some necessary restoration, the remaining buildings are left pretty much as they were, crumbling in the elements and strewn with the detritus of departure. Quite amazing to think that it was once a lively Wild West town with regular shoot-outs together with plenty of drinking, gambling and opium-smoking in its saloons. Still, it must have been a tough environment, with its isolation, dry summers and snow-bound winters.

So, we had a wonderful escape – the only down-side being the discovery that my nose is prone to bleeding at high altitudes! Surprisingly, we had a good – if long – journey back (approx. 240 miles from Mono Lake). Of course, we’ve returned to busy times at work and the problems associated with transferring the mortgage on our house in the UK (the main one being that everyone involved seems to think it’s okay to charge you absurd amounts of money for doing practically nothing). However, with a weekend at the beach to look forward to, staying in my friend’s parents’ holiday home, it’s not all bad! Photos are available here: http://public.fotki.com/EllenHardwick/labor-day-weekend/ (Password: moocow)

In vino ... corpulens

I discovered recently to my horror that I seem to be gaining weight, in spite of all the sport I’m doing. Could it be muscle mass? Unlikely. So what could it be? All the eating out and drinking, perchance? Well, living in a foodie city like San Francisco, I’m not going to give up eating out, which left only one thing: cutting back on the drinking. So, let’s see how that went in my first week of abstinence…

On Monday evening I had my Italian class. Normally, we have it in Candida’s office, but she invited us around to her place to meet her new pug puppy, Kathmandu. I took a bottle of wine for the hostess and so did Gami. We spoke Italian, ate nibbles, played with the pug and – oh – drank wine. Tuesday went rather better – went to my step class in the evening and didn’t drink any wine afterwards. But I did cook the chicken with wine – does that count? Wednesday came around. There was an open bottle of wine in the fridge – I’d used it for cooking the night before. I’m afraid I had a glass. It had been a hard day, OK?! On Thursday evening, the engagement celebration for Al and Sarah, a chap that Jon works with and his lovely Australian fiancée, was being held at a cool pub-cum-jazz bar in Berkeley. I went along, of course and – er – drank beer. Friday: eighties night at the Great American Music Hall, a truly fabulous venue. Listened and danced to three bands: Cure and Duran Duran tribute bands plus another group delivering up a range of classic hits. Also watched people bopping around in their eighties costumes (there was a “prom” theme), and enjoyed lovely old-fashioned music hall style table service. So of course, ordered a cocktail – and a beer.

The weekend at last! Had a few chores to do on Saturday, but was able to enjoy the afternoon on the terrace of Caffè Sapore and in the pool, as it was such a gorgeous day. We stayed in that night – and had a bit of wine. Today I went for a run in the morning, then met up with some friends (Gami from Italian class and others) to go on a hike in Napa Valley. Failed to consult the hiking book sufficiently and got lost among the redwoods. On returning to the car, was more than ready for the wine tasting at the vineyard down the road and appreciated the “bonus” dose of Zinfandel port we were given. Having more or less skipped lunch, we headed for the princely California Culinary Academy for dinner and sat on a terrace overlooking the vineyards and hills beyond. Spotted the delectable Trefethen Riesling, which I’d tasted before, on the wine menu and ordered a glass to enjoy with the sumptuous – albeit rather meagre – dinner.

So how did I do in my “dry” week? Not very well, it would seem! At least I can console myself with the fact that I’m burning lots of extra calories trekking up and down the eighteen flights of stairs to the flat, with both elevators having been out of action since Wednesday.

Life's a beach (when it's not foggy)

Got the weekend off to a good start on Friday night with a Chinese dinner out followed by drinks in Vesuvio, my favourite bar, with its retro décor and literary connections (it’s where Beat movement authors used to hang out). It’s been a fantastic weekend weather-wise, so I tried to get out and about as much as possible. Went for my habitual run to the beach at Crissy Field and back on Saturday morning – fortunately it wasn’t as painful as last time, as I’m a bit more back into my training now. We then headed out to the Marina district for an al fresco lunch, before wandering back along the waterfront and doing some reading on the little beach near us, which happens to have views across to the Golden Gate as well as to Alcatraz. It was idyllic – except for the wind, which kept whipping up sand and getting it everywhere – up your nose, in the cracks between the pages of your book… etc. etc. Jon continued his lazy afternoon at Caffè Sapore, while I took the BART (metro/train) to Berkeley and headed for the Au Coquelet Café, where a nice coffee and slice of blueberry torte awaited me, for my German conversation group. I hadn’t been in several months, but it’s quite fun to get together and enjoy a couple of exclusively Germanophone hours. We had an evening in (not before I’d stopped off to do a spot of clothes shopping on the way back home, as the shops are open pretty late) and sat down for a bit of a San Francisco film fest. I’ve recently watched Dirty Harry, which features lots of scenes in North Beach, and had been intrigued to spot our apartment block in a helicopter-flight scene. This time we watched Bullitt, which I’d seen before, but wanted to see again to find out how much I could recognise. The answer is, quite a lot. Although the famous car chase scene isn’t geographically accurate (one minute they’re heading along the marina and the next they’re out of the city on some perilous coast road), we were interested to see that places like Bimbo’s, a music venue visible from our balcony, were already in existence in 1968, when the film was made, and were then highly amused to see our apartment block from the back (we didn’t even realise it was built then).

Today we headed out to do a hike. There was much deliberation about whether to go north to Marin (which is more beautiful), or east to avoid the fog. We’d decided on east and were heading out over the Bay Bridge, when we realised that we could see Mount Tamalpais in Marin from there, and more importantly that it was fog-free, so we did an about-turn on Yerba Buena Island – snapping a couple of pics of San Fran from there as the views are so great – and made our way to the Golden Gate, which was completely shrouded in fog, even though it was bright and sunny on either side. We did a 7 mile hike on Mount Tam, which offered some good views north, but was mostly in woodland. We narrowly avoided stepping on a couple of snakes (admittedly rather small ones, not rattlers), but managed to evade the mountain lions again! From the car park on our return, we headed west to check out the view, which ended up being spectacular – all the way back to the city and beyond to the south and out to the Farallon Islands to the west. Having gorged ourselves on the vistas, we set off to Stinson Beach to gorge ourselves on some food.

I’d only passed through Stinson before on our way to Point Reyes, but it’s a lovely place, although very popular of course. We had a great dinner out on the terrace of Parkside Café beneath the foothills of Mount Tam, then took a stroll onto the beach itself, which is a huge crescent of fine sand backed by a tidal lagoon. It was stunning – and for once, reasonably warm. The evening fog forming a short distance off the coast only served to add to the drama. Contented, we set off back to San Fran, intending to take the spectacular Highway 1, clinging to the cliffs above the ocean, but had to turn back and opt for the not-bad-as-a-second Panoramic Highway instead, because there’d been an accident on the 1.

Morale boosting

If I’m to be honest, I’ve been feeling a bit down over the last couple of weeks. I attribute it to having to say goodbye to family and friends in the UK again, missing my old teaching job and returning to a fog-filled fortnight in San Francisco. While we had an exciting time in Yosemite last weekend, it was also pretty stressful, so ultimately didn’t help to improve my mood.

I was glad, therefore, when the weekend finally came along and with it some sunshine at last. On Friday night, we went to a party at Mark and Tom’s flat, not far from us in North Beach. It was lovely to see a few friends we hadn’t seen in a while, and a good time was had by all, playing Wii and throwing stuffed sea creatures from Ikea out of the window at unsuspecting passers by. We also had a bit of a Friends moment when we went up on to the roof, then got locked out (Friends fans will remember the same thing happening to Ross and Joey). Luckily, someone had a cell phone with them and could call down to the rest of the party below! This avoided the need to dice with death and leap onto the next roof to find a way down.

Saturday was the day of the Data Connection/Metaswitch company outing or “morale boosting” event (yes, they really do call it that!). It turned out to be very appropriately named. The event took place at Teatro Zinzanni, which is located in an opulent array of circus tents on one of the piers. We had to dress up for it, which was nice, and were able to enjoy free cocktails on arrival. We then took our seats in the main tent, which was lavishly decorated and attended by costumed waiters and waitresses. We were served a delicious five-course dinner over about three hours, whilst being entertained by a mixture of burlesque comedy, opera, cabaret and acrobatics. The acrobats were world-class and it was amazing to see them twirling around, almost literally above our heads, in such a small venue. I had a truly wonderful time and am only sorry I don’t have any pictures of the show, but photography was, understandably, prohibited. A plan was hatched to continue the evening at the Savoy Tivoli, a legendary bar in North Beach, and we were just debating how to get there, when we spotted a limo, ready for hire, right outside the Teatro. The driver agreed to take us to the Tivoli for a mere $5 per person (granted, it isn't far), so we couldn’t really refuse. It’s the first time either of us has been in a limo. We only had one drink at the bar, but someone in the party (think it was Oli) ordered a round of Fernet for everyone. This has become the signature San Francisco drink (not sure why): a shot of Fernet - a truly disgusting Italian liqueur - served with a small glass of ginger beer. Believe me, one is enough: I’d almost rather drink mouthwash!

Today we went for our customary run along the waterfront, which was more difficult than usual, as I hadn’t done it for nearly a month and a half for one reason or another. Afterwards I wanted to go on a hike (much to Jon’s disappointment, who just wanted to relax and do nothing). I’d bought a new hiking book and was keen to try one out in Marin. However, the traffic heading to the Golden Gate Bridge was so bad (it’s been getting gradually worse as the Summer has progressed – I blame tourists!), that we decided instead to do a hike on the San Francisco side, along the coast west of the city. It’s a hike we’d done before – in the fog – but this time we were in luck and had glorious weather. The walk takes you past some great viewpoints, through some wild spots, then the ridiculously wealthy Seacliff area to Baker Beach. Last time we did it, we saw dolphins, and I was stunned and delighted to see them again today. However, this time, there were a lot more – we saw them from the cliff top as well as frolicking in the water just off the beach, often followed by low-flying pelicans. So, overall, a good weekend for cheering me up!

Back to blogging at last

Apologies for the absence: I was in the UK for a week, and was then very busy on my return. Apologies should also be made for the fact that this will be a long one… are you sitting comfortably?

After being awoken early in the morning by a small earthquake and then enduring a caffeine-fuelled day at work on 20th July, I caught a shuttle to the airport, only to find that there were delays and huge queues as a result of the “severe” weather in London. I kept myself entertained while waiting and during the flight by talking to anyone that would listen, including, it would seem, about half the workforce of Google. Upon arrival in London – following a trip on the super-expensive but super-convenient Heathrow Express – I got my first dousing with rain as I tried to figure out how to get to Susie’s place. In spite of the fact that I was delirious with fatigue, we had a lovely evening, as my friend Emily came with her fiancé Emmet and we all went out for a long-awaited gourmet curry. The rest of the week was filled with a few torrential rain showers and many emotional reunions with friends and family: a marvellous barbecue at Dan and Michelle’s – attended by many friends – on the Sunday, during which the weather thankfully played ball and the rain held off; three days in Chesterfield visiting my mum and dad, brothers and aunty as well as Jon’s granny, not forgetting the new dog; then a couple of days visiting Jon’s dad and Pam (step-mum) in Devon, accompanied by a trip to the lovely north Cornish coast and Tintagel. We ended the week with the wedding of our university friends Andy and Dipika: a civil ceremony followed by a Hindu one at a beautiful converted barn near Bicester, Oxon. Again, the weather stayed fine when it mattered, and it was wonderful to catch up with so many chums again.

We returned to a foggy week in San Francisco (just as the weather apparently turned truly glorious in England!), so decided to escape for the weekend to Yosemite, as a group of friends were heading over there. I caught the BART (metro/train) over to the East Bay so that Jon could pick me up there instead of having to drive all the way back to the city from his office in Alameda. I chose a station in Oakland, where, it turned out, there was nowhere to park, so Jon pulled up at the side of the road – without getting out – to wait for me. Unfortunately, it happened to be a bus stop, and within about one minute (I’m not exaggerating) of being there, a police car had pulled up and was writing out a ticket for a $250 (£125) “parking” fine! I couldn’t help thinking that surely the police had better things to do: Oakland, not undeservedly, has the reputation of being a somewhat “sketchy” place – undoubtedly someone somewhere was being shot while the police department were engaged in collecting levies from law-abiding non-citizens.

The journey was otherwise unremarkable, and we arrived at our cabin in Groveland with enough time to spare to check out the local saloon and its interestingly named Friday night rock act, “Hot Daddy”. It was then up very early the next morning to head into the valley (some 50 miles away) to secure a pitch at the campsite. There is just one walk-in campground in the valley: all the others are booked up six months in advance at weekends, so the early start and long wait in line is the only option for those with a more spontaneous outlook on life. While waiting to register, a rumour went around that a car that had been trashed by a bear in the car-park. Of course, I went off to investigate. The car turned out to be only three along from ours. The driver’s side door frame had been pulled back, the window smashed, the back seat ripped to shreds and one of the rear speakers completely pulled out. It was hard to believe that a bear had done all this.

Our wait for a pitch was rewarded, and we all got a spot together on the northern edge of the campground, backed by thousands of feet of granite wall. Having pitched the tents, we headed out for brunch, then spent the afternoon by and in the deliciously cold Merced River: swimming, sunbathing, playing frisbee and splashing around in Cassie’s inflatable raft. After a nice beer it was back to the campsite to cook a barbecue.

Following the event of the previous night, I was determined to bear-proof the car. Instructions are posted everywhere you look to remove all food and toiletries (the furry beasts are apparently attracted by anything strong-smelling), and I had heard horror stories of people having their cars broken into for such items as discarded wrappers and chewing gum. I had almost completed a sweep of the entire vehicle, then finally came to the arm-rest, which conceals a cup-holder. That is when I made the tantalising scientific discovery that if you heat a forgotten can of Coke up to a high enough temperature by leaving it in a hot car all day, it will eventually explode. Suddenly the car became a bear-magnet, and I found myself wondering how those lovely plush leather seats would hold up to vigorous clawing. We cleaned up as best we could, but I was already mentally rehearsing the undoubtedly fruitless conversation with the insurance company.

After a superb barbecue, we retreated to our tents, where I found the new Thermorest I’d purchased to be remarkably comfortable. In spite of my earlier fears, I was drifting into a slumber when I became aware of a car alarm going off. I then heard some shouting and clapping, which I attributed to the high jinks of fellow campers. A few minutes later there was a shout just a few feet from the tent, “Black bear – right there!”, then … I joke not … “Go, bear, go!” It turned out to be a group of rangers, evidently tasked with scaring bears off. By the time we’d managed to scramble out of the tent, there was no bear to be seen, just a very starry night. As I stood in the cool darkness, wondering what to do next, I saw a meteor streak across the sky.

Needless to say, I didn’t get much – if any – sleep that night. I was just remarkably relieved when the sun came up and we found everyone, including the car, safe and sound. We packed up the camping stuff and headed out on a fairly short hike to Mirror Lake and beyond into Tenaya Canyon. We were much bemused as we were initially unable to find the lake: what I remember as being a large expanse of glassy water in the spring of 1999 had almost entirely dried up. It was a pretty hike, however, which we rounded off with another welcome cool-off in the river.

Heading home in the car, we decided to try playing the iPod, filled with trepidation as the cable input is positioned inside the Coke-bespattered arm-rest. Amazingly, it worked. The other potential casualty was the remote for the garage door. This had to be broken: it was swimming in liquid. Almost unfathomably, it functioned perfectly well when we returned, at last and somewhat relieved, to the apartment block. Yosemite is a wonderful place, but I have yet to enjoy a stress-free experience there!

Photos of the UK visit and the latest foray into Yosemite Valley are available at http://public.fotki.com/EllenHardwick/ (password: moocow).

The way to a man's heart

What's the first thing an Englishman does on returning to his home soil after an absence of half a year? He goes for a curry, naturally! Four curries actually. It's amazing, but of all the things I miss most about the UK, curry is top of the list. Well, actually my friends and family are top of the list (honest) but you know what I mean. So whilst I was back in the UK this last fortnight, I've been taking full advantage and stuffing my face in Indian restaurants whenever the chance arose. I have gained four pounds during my visit - possibly not a coincidence.

What's the first thing an English expat does on returning to San Francisco after an absence of a fortnight? You probably guessed it - he goes for a burrito. The US equivalent of a curry. Cuisine imported from Mexico, adopted and perfected in the US. Nothing beats it... except British curry.

All alone!

Jon flew back to England (a week earlier than me) on Saturday. I was really sad to see him go, even if it is only a week! However, I had been invited round to my friend Gami’s place in the Sunset district for an English-themed event comprised of afternoon tea and watching the BBC version of Elizabeth Gaskell’s Wives and Daughters. I made scones especially for the occasion, and stopped by the British shop on California Street (aptly named, “You Say Tomato…”) to purchase clotted cream and jam to go with them. We were actually in Gami’s mum’s place, which purportedly has a view of the ocean from every room. However, as it’s July, alas, the fog was in and the ocean was barely distinguishable from the sky. We did have a lovely time with our tea and drama, though.

Today started very slow. I managed to force myself to do a run, although shorter than the usual. I wasn’t inspired because it was foggy again. I had lunch at Caffè Sapore – a delicious bagel for less than $6 (£3): you really can’t argue! Then I headed into town on the cable car to do some shopping. My friend and old neighbour, Karen, had requested I bring her something back from the States, plus I had a wedding present and some other bits to buy, so I had a nice browse around the shops on Union Square, which by now was blue-skied and sunny. Gami had invited me to another event – a free concert – again in the Sunset district out West, so I got on the Muni Metro (underground) and headed out there. However, when the train surfaced into the daylight (it’s only underground in the city center), the sun had gone and I was in thick, chilly fog – barely five miles from downtown! Anyway, I couldn’t get into the park where the concert was, because I arrived late and it was completely full (to the extent that they weren’t letting anyone else in), so I retraced my steps and came back to North Beach, where I was in blazing sunshine again! Talk about microclimates! I read my book for an hour and soaked up some sun in Washington Square, then came back to the flat, had a swim in the pool and did my Italian homework in the sunshine. Overall, a pretty good day!

4th July and Russian River Discovery

Wednesday was a holiday here – 4th July. We were so lucky, because it was a glorious day, although we weren’t out enjoying it for the first part at least, because we were instead engaged in a frustrating shopping trip downtown. However, we spent much of the afternoon by and in the pool, which was great, before heading out at twilight to catch some of the action down by the waterfront, where hordes of people were assembled in the park and on the beach, listening to a slightly dodgy band and patiently awaiting the fireworks. We had a sneaking suspicion that we might, in fact, get better views of them from our balcony, so headed back to the flat before they started. It turned out to be a very good move, as the fireworks were launched, simultaneously, from the end of a quay and a barge out in the Bay, offering us great views from our building. It was a stunning pyrotechnic display above the water, itself lit up by hundreds of boats gathered for the show.

The fog rolled in on Saturday, so we were glad that we had planned a weekend away to Russian River, a beautiful spot about 70 miles away in Sonoma County. We took a look at the little town of Sebastopol on the way – boasting plenty of nice gift shops and a chocolate-themed café, but otherwise not much to write home about – then had a picnic on the shore of the Russian River itself. We had an amusing time watching kayakers negotiate a log partially blocking the stream and saw one group capsize completely! It was gorgeously hot and sunny after the fog of city. After our picnic, we visited Korbel Champagne Cellars, and were delighted to find they offer a free tasting! As a result, we did feel more inclined to purchase, and came away with a couple of bottles of surprisingly good value “California Champagne”, as they call it. We were then very hot and more than ready for a swim, so we headed to a secluded little beach, which a friend had told me about (not signed from the road). The wide, shallow, lazily meandering river with an osprey hunting overhead was perfect for an afternoon dip. We were not the only ones to think so, and were entertained by a bulldog playing a game of catch with his owner in the water. This was followed by dinner in Guerneville – not amazing food, but nicely accompanied by live Jazz music. We then headed to our motel in the ugly, soulless town of Santa Rosa, some way east, as we had been unable to find any available accommodation in the Russian River valley itself. Flicking channels, we were highly amused – although also not a little appalled – to find an international hotdog eating competition being screened. All but one of the competitors were American, with the winner – who downed almost 60 hotdogs in twelve minutes – being a guy from San Jose, California. How proud we are!

Today we headed down the valley to the very end, where the Russian River meets the Pacific. We drove from baking sunshine into a chilly, fog-cloaked world by the coast, but were greeted by seals, geese and pelicans at the estuary mouth. We then did a gentle and pleasant hike in from Pomo Canyon down the valley to an ocean beach, again slipping in and out of microclimates along the way. We decided to have another swim in the river before returning home, but found the beach much more crowded than yesterday, so didn’t stay long. We drove back to a much chillier, foggy San Francisco over the Golden Gate.

More photos are available on the Fotki site (http://public.fotki.com/EllenHardwick/ password: moocow).

Not fog city yet!

We’ve had a couple of weeks of glorious weather: sunny, clear – not always warm – but bright with some gorgeous sunsets. This was the weekend of the Fillmore Jazz Festival, and as my office is located on Fillmore Street, a party was held for staff and clients. We went along and enjoyed the food and chit-chat, but heard very little jazz in the end – too busy socialising. In the late afternoon we picked up a delicious party platter from La Méditerranée (a delightful little restaurant that donated to Shanti and happens to be just across the road from my office) and took it back to the flat, because we’d decided it was about time for us to throw a party too! There weren’t that many people, but we had a good time, enjoying the views and playing on the Wii again! We ended up heading out to the Savoy Tivoli bar and staying there until they closed at 2 a.m. – perhaps that would explain while my eyelids are drooping now!

On Sunday we went to my favourite beach – a real tucked-away place in Marin County. You park your car, then head down a trail through lovely Tennessee Valley for a mile and a half, before coming to a lagoon and finally the beach, nestled in a gorge between the cliffs. It was very windy, but we managed to find a sheltered spot, and spent a pleasant afternoon there picnicking and reading. We were entertained by some pelicans, which swooped in to feed, their throats expanding dramatically every time they caught a fish. On the way back to San Francisco, we headed up a road that I’d never been on, which takes in several spectacular viewpoints overlooking the Golden Gate Bridge from the Marin (northern) side.

Wednesday is a bank holiday – 4th July. Not sure what we’re doing yet, but hopefully we’ll come up with something! It will be nice to have a break in the middle of the week, although the job is going OK. One of the best things is the journey, since I can travel part of the way by cable car!

Pride not Prejudice

That’s the “theme” of this year’s Gay Pride celebrations, which culminated today with a parade down Market Street and festival in the Civic Center gardens. I was a bit disappointed by the parade: not sure what I expected – maybe more hunks in trunks with balloons, but it seemed a bit lame, especially as several local politicians, who had little to do with the cause, were using it as a cheap PR exercise. I had been told (warned?!) that the real show would be on the sidewalks, not in the parade itself, and that was certainly the case! The festival was quite fun: there were several bands playing, lots of food and drink, stalls selling everything from straw cowboy hats to marijuana-flavoured lollipops. There was a dance floor peopled entirely by male couples twirling around to country music and countless groups recruiting for their cause. After a good look around, and stopping to say “hello” at the Shanti stand, we decided to head home, as we were getting sunburnt and also felt perhaps a little like we were crashing someone else’s party.

What else have we been up to? On Friday evening, we tried out what turned out to be yet another mediocre Italian nearby in North Beach. It beggars belief: here we are, living in the heart of Little Italy in a major city, and we still haven’t managed to find a restaurant that can rival Marconato in Hoddesdon! Yesterday, we went to the beach ten minutes walk from the flat for a little while (it’s been a gorgeous weekend weather-wise, although always with that little bite in the wind). We also went to a barbecue at the house of Melissa, someone we know through Susie, down in Menlo Park (between the airport and Palo Alto). Jon was on auto-pilot as he drove us there and took us onto the Bay Bridge by mistake. Fortunately, there’s an island (well, two, actually) half way across, so we were able to turn around. In any case, it was a very interesting detour, with fantastic views back to the city from Yerba Buena Island, as well as the sight of dozens of pelicans gliding around in their characteristically menacing fashion, looking for all the world like pterodactyls. We really enjoyed the barbecue at Melissa’s: it’s nice to go to people’s houses when you don’t really have one of your own, plus we met some more people and got to play with a Pug dog and a Boston Terrier (also small and wrinkly) – hilarious!

I’ve been feeling a bit homesick recently, if you can call it that. A German guy I met at Shanti told me wisely, “Irgendwann vermisst man seine eigene Kultur” (“At some point you miss your own culture”). I didn’t believe him at the time, but I now know what he was talking about. The English aren’t exactly known for their happy-go-lucky outlook on life, but they’re a lot more laid-back than many Americans I’ve met. The people in my office for example: they work SO hard! They arrive early in the morning, leave late, don’t take a lunch break, don’t take long vacations and yet can be fired at any moment without reason. However, I went for a nice long run in the early evening today, pausing at my turning-around point, the beach at Crissy Field, to watch the crashing waves, with the towering Golden Gate Bridge to my left and Alcatraz to my right, feeling that all was right in the world after all.