SAN FRANCISCO - CALIFORNIA ( PART 1 )

5th - 8th April 2011

The Golden Gate Bridge

"If you're going to San Fran Cisco, be sure to wear some flowers in your hair"...... or so the song goes.
Well I might if I had any; so maybe I should just "be sure to stick some on my head".

Arrived in San Francisco without mishap and straight to the Green Tortoise ( Mk2 ) on Broadway. Again, this Tortoise is handily placed for most of the local attractions and, incidently, is in the middle of the 'red-light' district. I was transferred to a single room in an annex 200yds away. Maybe the Seattle branch had warned them about my snoring.

After a couple of hours kip I returned to GT HQ and got the 'gen' on the ‘killer pool’ and ‘crab racing’ which was due to kick off at 2030hrs. I was there early, poised for action. Twenty of us entered the killer pool competition. Three ‘failures to pot, or foul shots’ and you were out. After four rounds I was out. Pathetic. There were some useful looking pool players present. It was won by an amusing Aussie guy called Shane. He won a beer.

Now for the crab racing. I was not familiar with this. It involved three crabs, of what variety I had not a clue. They were about 3 inches long, or wide, or however you measure crabs. Each wore a coloured patch; red, blue or green. They were penned in a ‘starting gate‘ ( an upturned plastic dish ) in the middle of a circular table about 8 feet in diameter with a finishing line around the perimeter. There was quite a crowd for this. First a series of ‘team races‘. 12 teams of 2 people each. Me and a Mexican guy formed the Houston team. 3 teams competed at a time. Each team drew a colour, and the first past the post won ( a tin of beer ).  We drew blue but were a narrowly beaten half a length by the green crab. This was a period to suss out the ‘form’.The blue and green crabs had both won. The green became famous for running neatly timed waiting races with a great sprint finish, sometimes waiting a bit too long. The blue ran sedately but straight, whereas the red one ran the fastest but, suffering from bad steering or wobbly giros, tended to go in circles and avoided the finishing line! They had to be revived occasionally by a spray of water ( water? ). Then the individual ‘knock-out‘ races. 12 competitors and 3 rounds and the same 3 crabs. It was a sweepstake with an entry fee of $1. I drew the green crab for the first round and blue for the second and they both won. In the  second round both crabs initially refused to start and had to be revived again by a quick squirt. To the final, and I drew blue again! My opponent, a voluble American called Buster, drew red. I was quietly hopeful. No, lets face it, I thought I was onto a racing certainty here. Buster became a little withdrawn. The crowd were getting excited by now, the beer was flowing and I’m sure a few side-bets had taken place. The tension was palpable. Then, to a cheer like the start of the Grand National, we were off; or at least the bloody red one was. Mine stayed rooted to the spot. It damned well refused to start! The red, quite  uncharacteristically, ran the race of it’s life in a bee-line for the finish doing summersaults, claw-springs and flicking ’V’ signs as it went. It won as it liked! Buster, and several in the crowd, went berserk. Me, and my supporters were a little muted. Our blue ‘certainty‘ had rolled up into a ball and may have died for all I know. It might have succumbed to earlier efforts or, perhaps, whatever it was squirted with, or sheer embarrasment. I waited in vain for the Stewards‘ enquiry. My calls for a dope test went unheeded. So Buster and his gang went off to celebrate with their $12 prize-money. I’m not sure that it’s worth writing to the North American Crab Racing Authority.

The Green Tortoise has an interesting smoking policy. I don’t know what the smoking laws are in California but I suspect they are quite draconian ( on paper anyway ). There is a sign which the GT has, by law, to display outside their front ( street ) door which says smoking is strictly prohibited within 20 feet of the door. However, we were told that smoking is permitted in the dining hall-cum-entertainments room after 9.00pm. Those that didn’t like smoking could go somewhere else! I admire the American attitude towards pettyfogging rules and regulations. Disregard them! It’s a bit like the Harley-Davidson easy-riders I saw in the southern states who happily give two fingers to the wearing of crash helmets. Americans do not like to be bossed around by ‘elf and safety’ fanatics and politicians and are prepared to do their own thing, seemingly unmolested by the cops. A refreshing attitude I believe.

The next day I did a bit of exploring on foot. I soon discovered that SFC was considerably more hilly than Seattle with some streets going straight up, or down, a 25 degree incline ( by my estimation ) crossing flat intersections. Wasn’t there a famous Steve McQueen car chase down these streets in some film or other? Cars were parked with front wheels pointed hard into the kerb. I was also reminded that the city is shrouded in fog for most of the year. Luckily I was there in the short period of blue skies and clear weather, although it was a bit chilly ( light sweater temperature )

Fisherman’s Wharf is a focal point for tourists and boasts many tour operators, tacky shops, amusement arcades, old ships moored to piers and lots of seafood restaurants. The restaurants were OK but they were expensive and all had virtually the same seafood menus! I investigated the Union Square shopping area ( boring ) and Chinatown. Chinatown is indeed very Chinese and has some excellent restaurants which were a bargain compared to the American ones. 

Right: A view of a bit of Fishermans Wharf.

    

Left: The Bay Bridge linking the city west to east to Oakland, Berkeley, rail stations and airport. It is much busier and more important than it's more famous neighbour. 

Right and below: Trying to give some impression of the serious slope on some of these streets. The photos belie the severe gradient; I reckon about 25 degrees in places!

Left: An example of the slopey streets up and down which the iconic 'cable'  cars operate. The cable runs on pulleys under the road. 

Right: This steep and wiggly street is at the end of Lombard Street. It is like a slalom course. One especially weak joke from a tour guide was that this is the 2nd most crooked street in the USA; the 1st being Wall Street. Oh, how we laughed!




















Left: an 'entertainer' near Union Square, the main shopping area.

Right: These characters featured in one of those old 'penny in the slot' machines in a most entertaining museum on Fisherman's Wharf of restored and working ( 25c now ) amusements. This lot sang a Barbers' Shop Quartet number, rather well actually......

........which is more than can be said for this old git, left.
He decided to plug in his guitar and sing Rolling Stones songs to a long queue waiting for a cable-car. His singing was quite appalling and every so often he had the nerve to come round the queue holding his hat out! It says a lot for the tolerance of the US public that someone didn't whack him ( or at least unplug him ).
Actually, when I look at this photo carefully, I notice a striking resemblance to my old mate Gary D, with a false moustache. Maybe he has fallen on hard times. Are you there Gary?!

Right: And always the Sedgeway tours. I saw a record line of an 18 person tour.












I booked a tour to Alcatraz for the next day.
I’m sure everybody knows something about Alcatraz. It was closed as a prison in 1963. Alphonse Capone  was a visitor there for a couple of years. Thanks to an excellent audio tour of the prison, and briefings on the rest of the island and it’s history, I now know a lot more about the place. I even bought a hat there. Before it was a federal penitentiary it had been a military fort. I hadn’t realised that in 1969 it was occupied by ‘Native Americans’ who called themselves the ‘Indians of All Tribes’ as a protest about their treatment, or something, and wanted to buy the place for $24 or whatever it was that the Dutch settlers bought Manhattan Island off the Indians for. They stayed for 19 months before they got bored and hungry and left.






Left: Approaching Alcatraz Island. It was so called from an adaptation of the Spanish name 'La Isla de los Alcatraces'... The Island of the Seabirds. Still lots there and plenty of bird shit to remind you.

Right: The showers which the prisoners used after being admitted and then once a week thereafter. Luxury.






















Left: One of three cell block passageways. The inside of the building has been left more or less exactly as it was when the last prisoner walked out in 1963.

























Right: A look inside one of the cells. They were all identical. Not bad, and I've certainly lived in worse....not locked in of course! Reminded me of the Junior Officers' Block in Fallingbostel, without the thunderflashes and poisonous coke stoves.
















Left: This graffiti is, we were told, a remnant of the Indian occupation in 1969. It is not intended as an invitation












Right: Self explanatory. I can think of a few places that might benefit from this fairly relaxed routine. Take away the 'inmate counting' and there wasn't much to trouble you.
Apparently, according to the 'guide', the food was both good and plentiful. No TV though.

Next up was a trip, in a roofless red bus, to the Golden Gate Bridge and lunch in the charming, and impossibly wealthy, township of Sausalito which is a few miles further north, on the Marin County side of the bridge. A ‘quite’ interesting commentary told us that the bridge was built for $35m, and was under budget, in 1936 ( I think ). It is 1.7 miles long. It was originally coloured orange due to an undercoat of anti-rust sealant and due to be painted a normal grey bridge colour. The locals liked the orange look, so it has stayed orange. Also, on average, 1 person a month jumps off it and, at 240 feet above the water, tends not to survive. Those that do are arrested and jailed. Sausalito was pleasant. Otis Reading wrote the song ‘Sitting on the Dock of the Bay’ there. As always our commentator waxed lyrical about how much all the smart houses are worth, and what film stars lived in some of them. Yawn.








Right: A more traditional pic of the blasted Bridge. The place is called The Golden Gate not because of the bridge, it was called that before the bridge was built, but because for most of the year the hills are a parched golden colour and it is the gateway to the port.


















......and another view.

Right: A monument to the US Marines on the northern side of the bridge. We were debussed here for a pit-stop and to take photos. There is an ex-military base at the bottom of the hill, now an expensive holiday resort.










Left: An extraordinary array of Ferraris at this pit-stop. There were 14 of them. It must have been some sort of club, or a very wealthy family outing.








We returned after a good lunch in Sausalito in a different bus with the most intensely irritating driver/guide. He told us that he was called John T.  He was fat, unamusing, shouted non-stop and was very pleased with himself. He started by giving us lots of warnings as to what we could'nt do. He was on serious auto-gabble with a tediously well rehearsed 'commentary' including feeble jokes of which only he can have been proud amid plugs for local restaurants. He only interrupted his ghastly monologue to berate passengers for daring to put their elbows over the side, or try to stand up. At several points he shouted for people to stop talking because it was rude not to listen to his commentary! He did not pause to draw breath. I've never heard anything so awful. The  passengers on the bus sat in stunned silence. As we re-crossed the bridge I don't think I can have been the only one to think that he should be the monthly man to take a leap. When we finally stopped, this imbecile said he prided himself on his excellent and professional guided tour and gratuities and tips would be much appreciated. My tip was not appreciated ( shut the f..k up ) and it was 30 minutes before my ears stopped ringing.
I have time to kill.......there will be a Part 2 from San Francisco 'cos there was plenty to see and do there.