Am I there yet?
Arrival: 2.30pm local time.
Travelling is such a process, a series of them. I don't mind most of them, the non time of flight time seems like a necessary thing to clear way in your head for new things. The next bit is always my least favourite part, that waiting and queuing to get into the country. As sson as the plane has landed I am aware that my leaving section is over, and now I am here, and tapping my fingers about the not quite here yet parts that follow. The security getting in is as bad as I expected. I wonder if there was ever some nice easy going guy who was fired from airport security for having a face that can't help but contain a smile. Amazingly nerves did not kick in, and I didn't blurt out 'I have a shit load of of meat and veg in my bag and a fake moustache.'
I look at my watch'
The sat nav woman is clear as a bell.
'Keep right'
I wonder why the voices of computers are always women and American.
On the way to the hotel there is one wrong turn, and we detour into a neighbourhood of baby blue clad houses with peachy windows and American flags on the lawn. Lemon trees. I am looking at everything, waiting for it to tell me something. It is sunny with a cool breeze not yelling instructing flags how to react.
I do not sing Are we going to San Fransisco like I have been for a month. He is looking straight ahead, listening to the satellite woman, and there is nothing I have as important as what she has to say.
She always knows where she is going, her voice clean as a chip. He is hanging on her every word.
'Keep right'
'Areet pet nee bother, don't you worry about that.'
I do not think Ms sat would appreciate being called pet in the slightest. She is making him nervous when she withholds her voice.
'I worry she just shuts up when I do anything wrong.'
6pm We arrive at Holiday Inn, Fisherman's Wharf, and take a walk out along the wharf, past Fish vendors, Alcatraz reject t-shirts, show globes filled with tiny bridges flashing from shop doorways, and a man who has had somebody pimp his hat as he slides along to a Jamariqui soundtrack. The first place we stop is an Irish bar for a beer, this isn't deliberate, we are waiting to realise we are here. A woman opposite eats overcooked bangers and mash and I want to take the glass of red wine from her hand and replace it with a bottle of brown ale.
There are homeless people everywhere, but they are all very quiet, as we walk by none of them say a word and none of them are holding signs.
'Hates
Is this why the lady is a tramp?
The homeless lady who stops us for a cigarette is very polite, in a cowboy hat. Her legs more tanned than my thickest pair of tights.
'You're from
'Have a nice day.'
It is time to eat, in
On the way back to the hotel we are collared by the comedy police, for not smiling, enough and he is cited for not holding my hand because I'm 'too cute.' He is actually a charity mugger, but it's a novel approach, we give him some money and I look at the sticker he gives me as I walk away. It is yellow as warning sign, capital letters.
ARE
WE HAVING
FUN YET?
I am not not having fun, but it is hard to say since part of me doesn't know I am here.
First Impressions: The streets of San fransisco are very clean indeed, and everywhere there is neatly pruned shrubbery.
Weather: Closing in a bit, slightly chilly
New Food tried today: Malibu Shrimp. Bud Light.