Toto: we're not in Walla Walla Anymore

Day 1: the perfect cappuccino

On Saturday we arrived in San Francisco at mid-day. By the time that we got our bags, rode BART downtown, and took a taxi up to our hotel the Mark Hopkins, it was after 2. We asked the bellhop for recommendations for lunch, and thought we would walk the 3 blocks to his first pair of suggestions. We didn’t realize the steep nature of two of those down-hill blocks. It was like climbing down a mountain without crampons.

But first, the bell-hop. We get up to the room, and he inquires as to where we’re from. We reply Walla Walla, and he says, “oh, isn’t that in the eastern half of the state?” Yes, we said. He inquires about the political makeup of eastern Washington, and also asks which presidential candidate we think will take Washington. We said we thought Obama. Then he talks about how he wanted to go to Seattle next summer, but the tickets for the “Ring” (Wagner’s 22 hour epic) were a thousand dollars. Jim pointed out that if you figured it on an hourly basis, it wasn’t nearly as expensive. A five minute conversation with one of the most erudite people you would ever hope to meet.

His suggestion, the Café Ramona was an Italian café, a small corner spot with only about twelve to fifteen tables. The staff in the kitchen were actually speaking in Italian, and I had the very best cappuccino ever. This was followed by penne pasta with gorgonzola and prosciutto and basil. Jim had linguine with clams. Sigh. At this point I was already planning our next trip to San Francisco.
We went back to the room, and despite that double shot, I fell asleep for an hour and a half. Jim, however, slept at least two hours. I do believe that we were tired.
Dinner was a few blocks away in Chinatown. There was something in the “mixed seafood” dish that didn’t sit at all well, and started to do bad things to my gut. Even Jim left it. But the barbecued duck and fried rice made up for it.
The first few blocks in Chinatown were filled with a mixture of kitsch. and items too expensive to even ask what their price-tag was. We figured that since there were no prices on the jade carvings that we couldn’t afford them.


Day 2: Sears Fine Foods and Fishermans Wharf.

Aided by our son-in-law’s travel guide, Streetwise San Francisco, we made our way via cable car to Sears Fine Food. There was a line, but it moved quickly, and once inside we discovered why there was a line outside.
The sign said that it had been there since the early 1930's, and instead of being “faux” vintage, it was actually vintage, with the tiny octagonal tiles and old wood-work. The food showed why they were still in business all these years later. The wait-staff was superb, and the food arrived quickly and was worth the trip. In addition, there was a bookstore next door. Couldn't pass that up, could we?
We walked around Union Square, looking in the window at Tiffany’s, waltzing through Williams Sonoma, and enjoying the park in the square itself. The square was named for the rallies in favor of the Union, versus the Confederacy, during the Civil War era, and the rallies resulted in California entering as a State of the Union.
We went to Fisherman’s Wharf next via two cable car lines. We passed Lombard Street, with a posted 5 miles per hour speed limit. The wharf was divided between touristy places for the vast majority of us, and the more upscale Ghiradelli Square.
On the wharf we sampled some Boudin’s San Francisco sourdough, and had cioppino in a sourdough bread boule down the street. As taxpayers we felt a direct benefit by using the rest-rooms at the San Francisco Waterfront National Park on more than one occasion.
The hills here vary from steep to insanely steep. Now we’ve figured out that it’s better to walk a block uphill and catch a trolley than walk down.
That’s it for now. More to come, along with pictures!