33 in Napa Valley! Day 4 [part 2]

Now where did we leave off? Oh, yes. Betsi had just left us at Ghiradelli Square. Silly Betsi. She thought she only had to walk a couple of blocks back to the parking garage in the Red Light District/Little Italy/Chinatown! Nonsense! Turns out she was more like a mile away, but I'm sure it was a beautiful walk back...well, she's still here today, isn't she?

As this point, we were left with yours truly, Debbie, and Sony, and seeing as how the free chocolates and morning coffee and Kashi had worn off of my two travelmates, we decided to get ourselves some lunch. Being a tourist is hard work! All the walking and bartering with street vendors for blue ball necklaces that break later in the evening! We were famished!

Deb's guide book recommended a little cafe near Ghiradelli Square, so we went in there...only to walk out about 5 minutes later. Not quite up to our standards. And we know a thing or two about standards...after all, we all heart BW3. So we walked our way back down towards Fisherman's Wharf and ate lunch at a place called Boudoin Bakery. This was where they made loaves of sourdough bread shaped like lobsters and crabs (pictures to come later). It looked good when we first looked in there, so we went back. After all, this was Fisherman's Wharf, and we wanted to have some authentic clam chowder! Well...okay, so I was the only one who actually had the clam chowder (it was very good)--Deb went with the corn chowder in a sourdough bread bowl, while Sony opted for the bleu cheese burger (I had that as well--chowder as a side). Sony and I are suckers for bleu cheese, I guess! While we ate, Deb kept on pestering our waiter about the row houses shown in the opening credits for "Full House." Dude didn't know what she was talking about! He said he'd never heard of the show...he must have been Canadian or something. A gay waiter in San Fran who's never heard of "Full House?" Puh-leeze!

Our lunch over, we headed back out. On with the list! Next up: trolley car ride. Now, for those of you who treat public transportation like a ride at Disneyland, let me remind you of this factoid: people use public transportation to get to and from places for their daily lives! I know, it's hard to imagine that anyone would actually want to ride the 16A up and down Washington Ave. every day, not just when they're drunk and trying to get downtown from Argyle House, but it's true! People have to ride public transportation to survive! But we were tourists! Damn the natives, we're riding a trolley car whether they like it or not! So when the conductor shouted out they had room for 3 more, we pushed our way to the front of the line, knocking over some hippies in the process, and off we went. San Franciscans were jumping on and off at every intersection, but these Midwestern girls kept on riding until we reached our next item on the list: Lombard Street. Trolley ride: check!

So, in case you don't know, Lombard Street is the self-proclaimed "Crookedest Street in the World" (see future pictures for reference). I have a hard enough time living in Burnsville, but I cannot imagine having to live on that street! Pushy tourists are peering into your house all the time, admiring your Pottery Barn-like tastes, taking pictures, walking on your grass...well, it was more like standing near their potted plants, as there was no yard to speak of. And then there were cars flying around the bends of the road, caring not for their safety nor that of the pedestrians...imagine trying to drive that after a couple glasses of Chandon! No siree bob!

From Lombard Street, we could see our next stop: Coit Tower. Now, I have no idea why we went to Coit Tower, but mother [Deb] wanted to see it, so by George, we were going to see it! Basically, we had to walk to the bottom of the 'valley' and back up the hill to reach the summit where Coit Tower was. So off we went. The walk down was a piece of cake. The walk up: a whole other story. First of all, we started up the hill by passing through a neighborhood with a rec center called Joe DiMaggio something or other. There were two guys (possibly homeless) sitting on the surrounding wall, smoking weed, who started hollering at us as we walked by. What did they say? The great American pick-up line: "Are you Charlie's Angels?" I think one of them asked if he could be Charlie. Now, I know I'm in a self-imposed slump right now (as I was then), but I think it's safe to say that I am not looking for love on the stoop of a rec center in San Francisco with a pot-smoking bum! The distance would be too much to overcome!

So Sony fluffed her hair, and we continued our trek. It felt like it would never end! I was beginning to feel like Sisyphus, pushing the rock up the hill in Hades only to have it roll back down once it reached the top---everytime I thought we were close, the hill just kept on climbing! My knee was throbbing like a vein in Barry Bonds' neck. Did you know I have a bad knee now? Funny side note: I went to the Twins game on Mother's Day, and the next day I couldn't bend down. Or over. But, like I said, self-imposed slump: no worries there!

After much complaining and curse words being uttered, we finally made it...to the bottom of the park where the tower was located. Personally, I was pleased with where we were! There was a statue of Don Quixote and Sancho Panza, and a little bench devoted to Marconi (see upcoming pictures), but our tour guide pushed us up the hill. Well, not so much pushed as forced. But up we went! We made it to the base of the tower and went inside. $3 for the elevator ride to the top! Sony was pissed...she tried to strike, but Deb paid for her ticket, and we hopped in the hand-crank elevator to take the harrowing ride up. Can someone say nervous? At the lookout point, we talked with some British tourists, showed them the sights, then said a prayer and went back down the elevator to ground zero. Ride up the elevator: $3. Feeling of being on solid ground again: priceless.

Our time in San Francisco itself was nearly over, but we had one last stop: Chinatown! Hooray! I had some vague memories of Chinatown from when I was 4...and they were vague for a reason. I was totally disappointed with it! It was a wee bit dirty [read: dirty] and crowded, and I was a wee bit cranky [read: cranky] and ready to go. But Deb and Sony wanted to take the free tour of the Fortune Cookie Company which was detailed in the guide book. We were within a stone's throw of the place, according to the map, but we couldn't find the alley to turn down. I, however, have eagle eyes, and I spotted the place in an instant. In perhaps my finest moment of the day, I looked at them and said in my most deadpan voice, "I see it but I'm not telling you where it is."

This didn't go over too well, however, and I gave in, and we walked down the alley to take the tour. I waited outside while those two went inside. They were back out in 10 seconds. The tour involved walking inside 5 feet, looking to your right, where they workers pressed cookies into their famous shape, having a sample, and possibly buying a bag of cookies to take home. Yawn! But it was an experience, that's for sure!

We went on our merry way back to the hotel for that evening's shennanigans. I went with Betsi, Buch, Teresa, Mark Allen, Doug, and the cheer squad coach into Berkeley to hit up the bars, while Deb and Sony stayed in the hotel and had some supper with Heidi. Our first bar was a total disappointment: the bartender immediately yelled at us that there were no tabs allowed, and it was cash only. Okay, we can deal with this: after all, we're from the land of 10,000 drunks. However, when Book went to the bar to buy pitchers and gave her $10 for a $9 pitcher of PBR (seriously!), she looked at him and went, "This is tip country." He informed her she would get a bigger tip if things went well, which they didn't, so we left shortly after the rude patrons in there started yelling at us. We'll take our business elsewhere! So we went to the student bar on campus, the Bear's Lair, I think, and proceeded to order all of their pizza and order many pitchers of beer. It was a little creepy: I think there was some sort of back room where things were happening, and the bathrooms were black and sticky. After our fun ended there, we went back to Paragon and had some more. There were some southern boys there who were quite creepy (one looked like Tucker Carlson--enough said). Tucker did enjoy my accent, but I did not enjoy him at all! (Not like that, get your mind out of the gutter you dirty perv!)

My memories of this trip are beginning to fade, so it's a good thing I only have one last day to blog about! I will get to it over the holidays! Toodles!