I have a business trip to San Francisco, and with minimal disruption I was able to add three days in front for a short vacation. I would be leaving from work on a Friday. To save my company money I decided to leave from Newark, and return to JFK.
I had never gone to an airport from work. I figured 2 hours 50 minutes would be enough time to get to Newark. I call travel for a car service. She called back. All four they use were booked! I hadn't realized one needed to plan ahead for a car.
She suggested I have the front desk call for a taxi. I did. There was no problem. A storm passed through the area. I get down exactly at 4:45 for my car. There was none out front. After a few minutes the front desk calls to check. The dispatcher says a blue Cadillac will be there in a few minutes. At 4:50 a black Lincoln Town Car arrives. We figure it is for someone else. A colleague that travels for business often passes by. He says he would have left between 4:00 and 4:30 for a 7:35 flight at Newark. At 5:00 I call the taxi company. I ask them to find out exactly where the car is. Again she says it is a blue Cadillac. And that it is out front. The receptionist goes outside while we are discussing this. Yes, it is my car. He's George's Car Service, an independent service. The taxi company subcontracted the job out.
Traffic is bad. We now only have 2 1/2 hours. In addition to being Friday afternoon the storm caused more problems. George took some local roads so he could get a look at the road heading to the Tappan Zee Bridge. It was all stopped up. So he took more roads to the Sprain Brook, then Taconic, then the George Washington Bridge. Initially it was slow going. The radio traffic reports were dire. The radio was reporting three hour delays at Newark Airport. He had a computer in his car. He checked my flight. It was listed as being on time! We chat about what he can do to improve the visibility of his web site. I tell him about my Brooklyn Storefronts album. And how the NY Daily News would be running an article in a few days.
It was slow on the NJ Turnpike. We pull into the airport one hour and 50 minutes after starting. I had lots of time. And his computer still said my flight was on time.
I checked in at a Continental kiosk. It had much friendlier programming than the American Airlines one I checked on a few days before. I get to the gate listed on my boarding pass. Another flight, much delayed, is posted. The gate agent says mine is the next gate. But my boarding pass, with the incorrect gate, was barely 10 minutes old.
At the correct gate it posts the flight as being on time. But it was a few minutes past the boarding time of 7:05. Then the time changes to 9:15. We learn that the plane is there, but that there is no crew.
A fellow I'm chatting with mentions Gallagher's Steak House for dinner. I wander back to look at it. It wasn't cheap. Then I wasn't sure if my company would pay for a meal in addition to the one on the flight. Besides, I don't usually eat dinner until 10 PM on most nights.
I return to the gate. It now says 7:58 departure! If I had gone for dinner I would have missed the flight. Then the time becomes 8:05. It seems they are keeping it just 30 minutes into the future. We now learn that we have a crew, but not a captain. He lives in Boston, and with all the delays he can't get a flight to Newark.
Then they announce that they've found a captain. He lives in the area and was scheduled for a later flight. But he had come to the airport early, so they gave him to us. Now they promptly start boarding us. I was second, as my company lets anyone flying across the country to fly upfront.
All in all, with all the ups and downs, we ended up leaving only about a half hour late.
Upfront they do have gluten-free meals. But for some reason all the special meals get iceberg lettuce, while the regular ones get fresh mesclun greens and frisée.
I learn from one of the flight attendants that the storm the evening before really messed them up. This was to be her day off. But she lives in NJ, and needing crew, they gave incentives to come in. And not having anything else planned she did. She tells me they are scheduled to arrive a little early.
I'm wondering why there are only 12 upfront and a horde in back on this 737-700. Apparently most companies are too cheap to put their employees upfront on a cross country flight.
Saturday, July 29, 2006
I'm out at 7:00 looking for breakfast. I find Roxanne's Cafe. Everything goes on the griddle, but no one has ordered pancakes or French toast yet today. The home fries have butter, so she'll switch them for a fruit bowl. It was an adequate breakfast.
I return to my room to get my Lonely Planet guide book and camera. Then I get the Powell & Hyde cable car. The price of a cable car ride has gone up to $5. They are mostly used by tourists. I don't see anyone paying. The fellow at the back isn't asking for money. I walk back and give him $5.00. He gives me a receipt. Others get on and off. No one else pays. I get off just before the end. I feel like a fool for paying.
It is only a block walk to the bicycle place: Bay City Bike Rentals. The fellow gives me a hybrid bike. The pouch hanging in front of the handle bars is handy for my guide book.
I bike around Ghirardelli Square for a very short time. I then bike to Aquatic Park. I see a large group of people in wet suits heading to the water. What for? I don't figure it out. I bike out to the end of Municipal Pier. I bike through Fort Mason Park; then around the Fort Mason buildings, where I buy a green tea at Green's Restaurant. I bike along the Marina Yacht Harbor. I pass a bunch of runners at a gathering, but I don't see any running. I bike out past the St. Francis Yacht Club. I watch a race start. I bike around the Palace of Fine Arts, but the adjacent park is closed for renovations. I visit the visitor's center in Chrissy Field. I then bike through the Presidio. I'm intending to follow the map the rental place gave me and head to Golden Gate Park. But I've been cold. My flannel shirt isn't enough. And it has been misting. I decide I'll head to my room and get my rain jacket.
I bike through the city on the streets. There are endless lovely Victorian houses, called painted ladies here. I get back to my room. I decide to take a nap.
Upon awakening I see that the sun is out. I skip the rain jacket. At the desk I ask where there are Indian restaurants. She mentions Haight-Ashbury, but she pulls out a map and circles Mission Street. So off I go down Market Street. I pass the turnaround for the Mason-Powell cable car. There is a long line of people waiting to ride them. These people have bought tickets. I see a sign for an information center. I find it, and stop in and get some guides with maps. One lists some Indian restaurants. I see one that is very close to the office I'll be in (after my vacation is over).
I reach Mission Street. I bike all the way down to the end where it bends. There are no Indian restaurants on it. They are mostly Latino with some Chinese. I stop in a Peruvian one. They speak English, but not enough. They do not know what wheat, flour, or roux are. I try an El Salvadorian one. Again they only spoke minimal English. Then at another the fellow knows English well. He says I can't eat there. There is flour in all their sauces. I then come upon Pete's Bar BQ. The barbecue sauce is homemade. They use corn starch. Everything is cooked in a rotisserie. I get chicken, spare ribs, a baked potato, and salad for about $10.
I head to Haight St. I'm starting at the east end of it. This is way before the famous part. I pass two "Indian" restaurants. I continue on Haight and start following the walking tour in my Lonely Planet. I pass a group of people in costumes and a band on a hillside of Buena Vista Park. They spread out a long sheet of slippery Tyvek. They had a bunch of felt tip markers. People are being recruited to roll down, or slide down, and mark the Tyvec. They are creating a work of art. I watch for a while and take pictures.
I get back on the tour. Walking along the west side of the park I come across lots of blackberries. I have an afternoon snack. I find the house that the Grateful Dead lived in. Many other tourists were also finding it. I continued along Haight until I reached the Golden Gate Park, I biked over to the last stop on the tour: the house The Jefferson Airplane lived in.
Haight-Ashbury has many establishments still peddling the hippie culture. There are plenty of people around (including my pony-tailed taxi driver) that are still stuck in the 1960's culture.
I bike through Golden Gate Park. I find the Conservatory of Flowers. It is 4:20. I pay to go in. I was just in time. The last entry is 4:30. I see the butterfly exhibit.
I continue on and find the De Young Museum. As I'm locking up my bike a fellow asks about renting them. I tell him what I know. I ask about the museum. Being 5:00 I expect it to be closed. He tells me that it is now free, and closes at 5:15. I go in. I get a 15 minutes quick tour. The place is large. I see just a fraction of the exhibits. [I learn that it becomes free at 4:30.]
My next stop is the Japanese Tea Garden. I learn that it is free from 5:00-6:00. I go in. It is very crowded. Many people are taking advantage of the free hour. I then pass the Strybing Arboretum. But the last entry was at 5:00. It looks like it is always free. I then bike around Stow Lake. I then bike on, but come to a busy street. I get confused. I think my compass is inaccurate. I go backwards around the arboretum. I come upon an intersection (Lincoln and 9th) which I found on my map. My compass was right all along! And I was going the right way. I just had to cross over the busy road. (It is a transverse road through the park.)
I bike along Lincoln to 19th and get back into the park. I continue along South Drive until I reach the Dutch Windmill. I stop for a visit. I listen to a musician who is peddling his CDs. He was playing them, and not actually performing while I was there.
I headed on. I rode down Ocean Beach, and back to where I exited Golden Gate Park. I then biked along the North Drive. My first stop was for a ride around North Lake. Then I stopped to look at the Bison Paddock. Then I stopped for a look at Spraekel's Lake. Then I took a walk around Lloyd Lake. Then for a quick look at the Rose Garden. I exited the park and headed east on Haight St. I stopped in front of the first of the two "Indian" restaurants: Naan N' Chutney. I ate dinner and wrote as much of my journal as I had paper for. Then it was back to my room.
Sunday, July 30, 2006
I'm out for breakfast at around 7:00. I head to Roxanne's. A Chinese woman is now waiting on the tables. Her English is minimal. She does not know what wheat is. I leave. A doorman at a nearby hotel recommends Sear's, which is just down a side street. I go there. It appears to be well established. It is crowded. It is more expensive. Everything is cooked on a large griddle, but the bread is kept to one side. She recommends not eating the bacon or ham. I settle for four eggs and hash browns. I skip the fruit bowl, which would have been $8.95 extra.
On my way back to my room I chat with the doorman. He tells me of an Indian restaurant in the area. He points out that I can't go over the Golden Gate Bridge until about 1:00, as the marathon goes over it and back. He says it will be warmer today. (The sky is partly cloudy, not overcast like the day before.)
I get my back to my room and then head to the financial district. I look for the building where I will be for business on Tuesday. I bike to the Embarcadero Center. I get to the Justin Herman Plaza. There are a lot of things set up for the marathon. It looks like some of it ends here. One big tent is serving barbecue. I don't know what entitles a person to get in. I bike along The Embarcadero [street]. I bike out a couple of the piers.
I decide to go up Coit Tower. I leave my bike at sea level east of Telegraph Hill. I walk the hillside stairs to get up. The top of the tower can only be reached by an old elevator. They say something about the stairs being unsafe. I have more than a 20 minute wait to get up. Once there I find the narrow windows covered with glass on the inside. I do my best to get pictures to stitch together. [The 360° panorama did stitch quite nicely.] Back down—no wait to get down—I come upon a photo shoot with a football player. I don't figure what its purpose is, but he has Parrish on his jersey back.
When on top, I chatted with a couple that told me that in Washington Square Park they were having the North Beach Jazz Festival. So after walking down I bike around Telegraph Hill to get to it. It was 11:45 when I got there. There was no music yet. Encircling the park were a bunch of stands selling things. Some had contests. A few had food. I chatted with the fellow for the stand for the San Francisco Chronicle. Forty years ago he had lived a few blocks from me in Brooklyn. He could have bought his two bedroom apartment for $40,000. Instead he moved to Florida.
The one place with luncheon type food had Teriyaki sauce on everything. I head out. The music was supposed to start at noon, but it didn't.
I headed to Fisherman's Wharf. It was mobbed with people. I considered a trip to Alcatraz, but tickets must be reserved ahead of time. Plus there were long lines for all tickets. I check out a silver pantomime, He has a side kick telling people you have to pay $1.00 to take his picture. He's standing on a public sidewalk. You can't restrict people from taking pictures in public places. I head to the pier with the ships. But $9 for a quick walk through a submarine was too much. Next door was the Musee Mechanique. Someone collected hundreds of mechanical amusements. All were working. All you needed were quarters to check them out.
I bike along looking at the food options. There was nothing overly exciting. I recall from one of my guides—I should have ripped that page out and brought it along—that there was an Indian one in Marina or North Beach. I head there. I ask a fellow leaving a supermarket where all the shops are. He directs me to Chestnut St. I bike along and see none. I stop and ask a fellow. He suggests I also bike down Lombard St. After finding nothing on Chestnut I move a block over to Lombard. I don't find an Indian one, but I do find Taste of the Himalayas, a Nepalese restaurant. This is very close to Indian. They are advertising a buffet for $7.50. I go in. Most of the items have butter, but I can have the tandoori chicken and mustard greens. The greens were delicious. The chicken was fine. I ate well. With tax it came to $8.15. I gave him $10. For less than I paid for breakfast I had a much, much better meal. [In early 2009 the restaurant was sold and according to Yelp is not the same.]
I head to Chrissy Field. I've decided to bike across the Golden Gate Bridge. I stop at a visitor's center. They have shark's teeth for sale. I tell the woman that when I was a kid I had more than 150 that I had picked up along the Neuse River in NC. She tells me that spot is a well known place for collecting them.
I bike out to Fort Point. I do a quick walk around inside the fort. I get some pictures from the top. Then a short but steep climb gets me to the start of the Golden Gate Bridge. On weekends, and weekday afternoons, bikes are restricted to the west side. But the views are better from the east. I walk my bike across. Almost all cyclists heeded the signs. I only had six cyclists, in two groups, pass that didn't.
On the Marin County end of the bridge is Vista Point. I hung out there for a while. Then I biked into Sausalito. I found a store where a nice organic tea was only $1.50. I sat at a table in front writing these notes. Then I biked around a little and checked the ferry schedule. The next one makes a stop in Tiburon and ends at Fisherman's Wharf. Another later goes directly to Pier 1 (near my hotel) and arrives about the same time. I go for the earlier one. It gives me a side trip to Tiburon. While waiting I chat with a family from England. Then on board I sit next to a couple from England. He also has a Nikon DSLR. We chat about cameras. He's an architect from Nottingham. We talk about what we've done while in San Francisco. The day before, they had gone to the top of the tower at the De Young. It is free. I had seen the tower, but didn't know what was in it. Now knowing that the views are good I'd like to make a trip back.
After getting off the boat I head to my bike rental place. The zipper pull on my handle bar bag has come off. While he tries to fix it I mention that the gears skip. He gives me a newer bike.
As I had missed the sea lions before, I head to them on Pier 39. There are a few dozen. In the winter there can be hundreds. I come upon Jaguar Music, a band that sounds Peruvian. It is a couple with their daughter. I buy one of their homemade CDs for $15. I wander out to the middle of Pier 39. It is a tourist mob scene, with shops and restaurants catering to them. Out front there is a line of taxis. One driver gets out of his car to throw away some trash. I ask him about Indian restaurants. He says there are a lot of them west of my hotel. As I still have the bicycle I decide I'll go for the other one I saw on Haight St. He suggests going the most direct route of heading west and then going down Webster St.
I don't exactly follow his suggestion. Once I've biked up a hill I'd rather not bike down. I worked my way to Van Ness Ave. I turned on Union St. I spied an octagon house off to the side. I biked through Cow Hollow. I noticed that I was biking past some nice shops. Then I turn on Webster. I come upon a very steep hill. I walked my bike up it. Then I ended up going through the Japan Center. This route has taken me through some new neighborhoods.
I lock up my bike and go into Rotéé. Most of their dishes are vegetarian. Most have yoghurt. Only the meat and lentils, and meat and chickpeas, are dairy free. I'd rather not have the carbs. Plus the place is more expensive than Naan N' Chutney. I bike the block and a half and return to eat at Naan N' Chutney. I had another good, and slightly different, meat.
I bike back to my room. I got there around 10:00. I'm a bit sunburned. In contrast to my overcast first day my second was almost entirely sunny. My hat protected my head. My often worn flannel shirt protected my arms. But my nose, hands, and above the knees, are good and burned. I'll be using my suntan lotion tomorrow.
Monday, July 31, 2006
I'm out at 7:00 looking for breakfast. I look into Roxanne's Cafe. The Chinese woman is still there. I don't want to eat at Sear's again. I wander around. I stop in three or four places where the woman in charge doesn't speak much English. One did have some idea of what wheat was, she held up a loaf of whole wheat bread, but she still didn't know the word allergic. She probably thought I was asking for whole wheat bread. I find it strange that it is easier to speak English when ordering food in The Netherlands or Denmark than it is in San Francisco.
I come to The Crepe House at Taylor and Post. The woman is an American. They've just opened for the morning. Nothing has been cooked on the griddle yet. I am able to get four eggs, bacon, home fries, and a fruit cup for only a little more than four eggs and bacon at Sear's. I'll be back.
I return to my room. I take it easy. I finally head out with my bike. I decide I'll head to the De Young Museum. I pick McAllister to bike across on. I pass City Hall. This is a rather grand city hall! I get a picture. When I get to Franklin I decide I'll bike north to get a better look at the Octagon House. I head north. I turn on Union and in a block I'm at the Octagon House. I find that it is a museum, but it is only open a few days a month. I bike through all of Cow Hollow this time. At Scott Street I look at a map that shows the hills. It looks like Divisadero Street is less of a hill. I take it. Wrong. It leads to the top of a peak. The streets on each side of it don't get so high. I walk my bike up most of the way. One advantage of taking the highest street is I get the grandest houses. This is Pacific Heights, and the single family homes are grand. Looking down a side street I see some trees. I bike over and in Alta Plaza Park I'm rewarded with fine views. As Divisadero is more of a main street, I return to it. At Sutter I stop for tea at Pete's. Tea is priced like coffee. The bigger the cup the more expensive, but you still only get one tea bag. I settle for the $1.00 12 ounce cup. I have a selection of high end teas. I bring my notes up to date, as I drink the tea.
I continue on. I'm only a few blocks from Naan N' Chutney. It is now a little past 12 noon. I make the small detour and go for an early lunch.
I bike down Haight Street one again. I enter the Golden Gate Park. I take a different way than I've been before. I bike by the tennis courts. I bike a little loop through the AIDS Memorial Grove. Steps keep me from doing more. I find the Shakespeare Garden. It's right next to major construction. So it's not very peaceful. I go to the De Young. It is Monday. It is closed. I head to the Botanical Garden. I stop at its bookstore, where a docent led tour is starting. I pass on the tour, but do pick up the free map for my own tour. I also buy the Golden Gate Park map, plus a San Francisco Bike Map. I had seen the numbered routes, and this is my first map that has all the streets for the entire area.
I walk around the garden clockwise sticking near the perimeter. I cut through the middle and then up the east side to Friend Gate, where my bike is parked. I saw all of it, except I missed the lake in Moon Viewing Garden.
I sit for a while studying my new bike map. (The map would have been most useful having earlier. It has contours, plus shading to show how much the incline is.) I have four hours until I have to return the bike. I decide I'll bike through the park to the ocean and down along the coast on the bike path, which will take me around Lake Merced, The park map shows where there are bike paths. I take one. But it is dirt! I get on the road. At Sunset Blvd there is an underpass leaving the park. I decide I'll check out the Sunset neighborhood. What a dismal area. There are no trees. The houses are modest. There are telephone poles. (I later learn that this was sand dunes, and was developed after World War II.) When I reach the ocean, I bike back into the park to check out the Murphy Windmill. All I find is a base. The rest is off to The Netherlands for reconstruction.
I bike on the pathway along Great Highway until I reach the zoo. I bike into the parking lot. But I don't have time for more than a few minutes, and it isn't worth paying unless I can give it a few hours.
I bike to Lake Merced. I bike around it counter clockwise. When on the east side there is a bench looking at a view. I stop for a picture. There is a cyclist sitting and enjoying the view. We chat. We discuss my options for a view from a peak. We decide that Twin Peaks is doable, and the best. He suggests I take Ocean Street and then Portola to get there. This will give me a gradual incline.
We bike together until he turns off. I have no problem finding the way. I make it up with no walking. Twin Peaks, as the name says, has two peaks. I walk up each for the 360° views, and panoramas to stitch. The wind is blowing so hard it is difficult to stand! Then I stop at the parking lot viewing area for a more focused view of downtown.
While I got up to the top from the south, I can leave by the north. I start down. I come to a split. I stop to pull out my map. A jogger stops to help. He discourages me from my plan of taking Market Street. I head down Ashbury Street. I pass some lovely homes on my way down. I cross over Haight (I've bicycled down it enough!) and turn on Oak Street instead. I take that until Van Ness, which I know won't take me over any high hills.
I return the bike. I'm early. I walk into The Cannery. I see a shop: Shades of Tiffany. As I've been interested in maybe getting a Tiffany lamp reproduction I go in. I ask the woman about her web site. It ends with a .biz. That top level domain is low class. It is mostly used by spammers. I learn that the college kid that put up her first site let her .com expire, and now a squatter has it with ads. She says her web site brings in no business. I start explaining how to get better recognition. She takes notes. She doesn't understand much of it. The lamps pictured on the site have been sold, and the current inventory isn't on the site. She isn't able to update it herself. Finally I offer to help with critique, in return for her helping me find some better glass to repair one of my house's stained glass windows. [But she never responded to the long first e-mail I sent her.] She suggests a route to walk back to the hotel.
I walk down Columbus Street. I find a lot of Italian restaurants. At Grant Street I turn north for a few blocks to see the neighborhood that was at one time the Bohemian one. Then south of Columbus Street is Chinatown. I walk down Grant, making only one detour. As I get to Bush and Grant I decide to go straight for food and not go back to my room first. I ask the doorman at The Triton Hotel for directions to the Indian restaurant. He directs me to O'Farrel between Mason and Taylor, where I find Naan N Curry. This is operated like many here. You order at a counter. You self serve the salad, water, and utensils, and then using the number on your table the food is brought. This is a variation on fast food. The downside of this place is the only dairy-free chicken or lamb was with daal. I ordered a shrimp dish. The problem with shrimp is you don't get many shrimp.
After completing my notes I walk further on O'Farrel. Just past Taylor I find another Indian restaurant. I may come back on Wednesday night.
When returning to my room I pass Union Square. Despite being so close to, it this is the first time I pass by. I see the Handlery Hotel, which is owned by a family that a fraternity brother is a member of. I stayed here on one of my previous visits.
Back at my hotel I learn that I will not have to switch rooms for my last night.
Tuesday, August 1, 2006
It was another restless night. I have never slept well in this hotel. I seem to be slightly allergic to something. It is a non-smoking hotel, and I'm sure pets aren't allowed. It must be the pillow or mattress. I thought about switching rooms to the suite, but I'd expect it to have the same pillows and mattress as the regular rooms.
I head out for breakfast early. I get to The Crepe House at 6:55. It is supposed to open at 7:00. I wait until 7:05. Then I make my presence obvious. The woman comes to the door. One of the guys is late. It will be another 15-20 minutes. I head off. From the night before I remember a place advertising breakfast 24 hours. I find the Pinecrest Restaurant. The waitress says no bread or pancakes have been on the griddle yet this morning. I order. Just after my order a fellow gets pancakes.
I return to the hotel. I ask about leaving my bag the next day. All they can offer is leaving it in the hall. They said nothing has ever happened to bags left there. But it would be there for 12 hours! I head off to the office.
For lunch I ran out to Gaylord's for take out. The buffet was $10.95. But takeout from the menu was $13.95. All that got me was a pint container of curry. I will try to get the group at the office to all go for Gaylord's buffet the next day.
After work the drinks were at the Royal Exchange. It was an incredibly noisy place! I did get a free bottle opener key chain for some beer called Blue Moon.
Dinner was at Shanghai 1930. The woman waiting on us understood my no wheat and no soy sauce request. For an appetizer the chef came up with a spinach soup. But for a main course all I could have was a steamed dish. For some reason all sauces had soy sauce [which has wheat]. This was strange, as most Chinese restaurants have a white sauce, often an oyster sauce.
After the dinner the group went to Americano Restaurant & Bar at the Hotel Vitale for an after dinner drink. I decided instead that I would walk along the water heading south. Except for the trip down Mission Street, I hadn't been south of Market Street. I walked until I was past Bay Bridge, and then I walked back up Main Street until I reached Market. Then I walked over to Bush.
Wednesday, August 2, 2006
I was up early again. I walked through Union Square checking out more of the shops and art galleries. I made it the Pinecrest restaurant before any customers. I ate, said goodbye to the waitress, and returned to my room.
I had settled what I was going to do with my bag. I had been thinking of leaving it at a colleague's hotel. But one of the fellows that works in the San Francisco office lives only a few blocks away. I head off with it to drop it off. Having walked down Grant the night before, I decided to walk up Stockton. I should have checked the map! Again I walked up a steeper hill, only to walk down again. It did give me the opportunity to pass the Ritz Carlton. It is most grand! Is this an old building they recycled into a hotel? Or did they make a new one out of carved limestone? This entire walk, though only four blocks, was all in the direction of getting further from BART.
I drop off my bag and my colleague and I walk to the office together. Along the way we come across another colleague that was in town for the training.
For lunch I did take the 11 of us to Gaylord's for the buffet. This got me my Indian food, plus being a buffet and being close, we were able to do lunch in less than an hour. It was a success, except the birthday fellow left for a redwood tour with his family before they could bring the cake out.
After our day was done those leaving the next morning headed back to their rooms, and the others, leaving that night, took off for wandering. I walked over to the Ferry Building and Plaza. I wandered around the food oriented shops. I then stopped at the Hyatt Regency and phoned one of my colleagues. He had said he was going out for a walk later. But now he had decided he wanted to take a cable car over to Fisherman's Wharf. Besides already having done that, I didn't have the time. I took off for the New Delhi Restaurant. It was down Market Street, but instead of walking along that street, I zigzagged back and forth. I came upon the Galleria and wandered in. It was mostly over priced designer shops.
At the New Delhi Restaurant I had a good meal. This was the nicest of the Indian restaurants I've found in the town. It had good food and impressive decor.
I head towards my colleague's apartment. He said he'd be there after 7:00. It was 6:55 as I headed out of the restaurant. I had lots of time to make it to my 10:40 flight.
To get to Sacramento I walk up Mason Street. And yet again I pick one that goes up to the top of a hill. I find myself on Nob Hill. I pass the Intercontinental Hotel. Then I get to The Fairmont. What a grand hotel! Across the street is the Pacific-Union Club (in the former Flood Mansion), and then Grace Cathedral. I walk down Sacramento to my colleague's apartment. We chat. He offers to take the pictures of the camera storefronts that I had planned to take for my Other Storefronts album. I couldn't take them, as I forgot to bring the list. [It happens I did get a couple just in passing, and there was only one left for him.]
I walk down Stockton to Market Street to get BART. But this time I take the tunnel that goes through the hill. I don't get to see the Ritz Carlton again. I had a seat while I waited for the train. We have a little delay, as there was an earthquake and they stopped the trains to inspect the line. I was reading my Business Week and I did not feel it.
At the airport I get the AirTrain and get off at Terminal 1. I follow the signs. We go down, and around, through a parking garage, then up, then you have to go around the corner to get a boarding pass. I couldn't believe it. At Newark Airport the AirTrain drops you off inside each terminal. I have an hour until boarding. I sit and get back into my Business Week.
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