Sunday, April 19, 2015

2015 San Francisco - Day 7 - Morning

(Link to all 2015-April San Francisco / Berkeley trip blog posts)

5:59 AM -- one minute before the 6:00 AM alarm on my cellphone -- I woke up from a bad dream of things left undone. It's an anxiety dream I've had in various forms before. Years ago, it used to be suddenly remembering I had signed up for a course of some kind shortly before the end of the semester. Ludicrous, I know, but the feeling of panic was real.

Shortly after I woke, I heard someone going around the Inn doors, singing loudly and pounding on doors. He circled around again, this time talking loudly (to himself?). I called the police then got busy getting changed and ready to head out. The police did come quite promptly (a half hour later?), found the person, and detained them at the gas station across the street.
Speaking to another witness staying at the inn, I learned that Oakland wasn't so lucky to have that sort of police presence. Apparently, if you report a break-in, they tell you to record what's missing, clean up, and get ready to give a statement when the police finally come around a few days later.

Second incident at the Inn. Now my mind was definitely made up not to leave in the morning, but to overnight at the airport. That meant an even shorter day today.

Last day.

First up, Tartine. Went downtown and hiked to it, getting there at 8 AM. Contrary to a lot of sleepy-till-11:30 breakfast places, Tartine was already busy, though much of the line-up appeared to be take-out orders. There were still lots of seats, though some at increasingly popular "communal tables". As the Dylan's Tours guide mentioned, it was doable in the morning.

Next, kill some time till I was ready to eat again. I walked the Fillmore Street Shops and the Union Street Shops marked on the San Francisco Visitor Map before going down to Fisherman's Wharf, with the intention of looking for Scoma's.
This time, my route took me more downhill than up, and happily it was down some of the steeper roads. So steep that sections had long flights of short steps. Too short to really be useful for going down. In fact, I felt they hampered me and I continued to proceed carefully down the regular pavement for the most part.
The many days of walking were finally catching up to me and at the Wharf I dropped by the sweet oasis that was the seaward side of the restored 1939 Bathhouse. Took off my heavy shoes, let my feet ground on the cool tiles of that shaded place, and had some mandarin oranges while staring across the water at Alcatraz.

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