I don’t have to go into the office until tomorrow so today is exploring and sorting out boring things that I forgot. The sun is shining and it’s nice and warm so I walk all the way to downtown SF. An hour long feat that probably certifies me as mad in the eyes of most Americans. I haven’t told Sandra yet but I’m looking forward to her reaction. The light here is very different to the UK, bright and crisp like Australia. The roads are wide and buildings flat until you get into the centre, and not particularly hilly. The well know vertiginous streets are in the historic centre, I was assessing the streets in my walk in for bike friendliness and I reckon that I can definitely do it, the hills are avoidable and the freedom of a bike would be great.
On my walk in I was taking a picture of the Pig & Whistle pub, there is an infamous on in Newcastle, when a man walked past and said “Do you want me to be in your picture?” to which I rudely replied “No”, and then realised that he was the owner of the pub, whoops. He’s a Brit and apparently has a few Geordie regulars so I think that it will become my local. They show the Euro 2012 matches so I might go and see what manner of England supporters that draws. Going by the rest of SF inhabitants they will probably be completely insane. The quota of crazies here is off the scale, the place is absolutely packed with loons. Walking along Turk Street, about 3 blocks from the commercial centre, Westfield and Bloomingdales, I suddenly got a nasty feeling about the area I was in. Everyone seemed to be on crutches, pushing a trolley filled with their worldly possessions or just really dodgy. The shops had signs saying “No Loitering” in the window and a hotel where paying by the hour is probably the norm added “No Illegal Activities Allowed”. I was sticking out like a very white, fresh off the plane thumb. Then I passed the Drug Users Center, signage “Safe Injecting Area” and I wanted to run, very fast, past all of the homeless, prostitutes, pimps and crack addicts. I was like the setting for some really cliched 80s American movie with lurching hobos and women lunging asking “What you want sunshine?”. And then I realised that I was carrying $1,000 in cash and both of my cash cards. Good move, experienced traveller. The sanctuary of Westfield has never been so appreciated, where, ironically I was robbed of $60 for a SIM card that doesn’t work in my phone. Apparently T Mobile don’t do refunds on that, which they don’t tell you before you buy it, but you can buy a $30 which it should work in. Thanks T Mobile.
Feeling annoyed and very tired I took the tram to the quay side, ate
a disappointing cream cheese and smoked fish bagel (aka smoked salmon)
which made me more annoyed, walked up to Fisherman’s Wharf, one of the
attractions of SF, which was crap, which made me even more annoyed, ate a
brownie which wasn’t very nice so I gave the rest to a tramp but...I
did walk through the historic district of San Fran, where you get the
iconic hills and old fashioned buildings which is beautiful and made me
less annoyed. Stumbled across the Red Light district which was deserted
and a Chinese man smoking a massive spliff. Then back home on the bus,
which I had to catch from Turk Street of previous mention, and the
people on the bus were a safer, yet just as weird bunch. Of the people
sitting at the front of the bus, one woman had an oxygen tube up her
nose, one old guy with a permanent drip on the end of his nose was barmy
and kept telling people they were late, another looked as though he’s
been living in a dark hole for several years with really starry eyes and
thin, paper like skin and the final man seemed to have a whole host of
medical problems including feet that looked like dead coral reef they
were so scaly. When he left the bus I felt like it would be rude to not
sit in his seat but I swear everyone looked at me as if they knew that I
was going to contract something horrible from sitting there. There are
lots of homeless people and crazy people everywhere so I’m sure that
I’ll get used to it, I did think that Ladbroke Grove had its fair share
but this is in another league. My final new friend of the day was Wanda,
who on hearing that I was going a journalism internship gave me her
number and email in case I wanted to do a story on her. She used to make
hats, be a tour guide and now places a little guitar. I’m sure there’s
an article in there somewhere. I’m about to go to the cinema to see a documentary on a famous Japanese sushi maker, I will let you know who else I meet on the way.
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