When in Rome

Day 2

After our long travel day, we spent the morning sleeping. I was up first but just curled up with coffee, a croissant and the duvet while I waited for Darrell. We were just figuring out our action plan for the day when the phone rings. It's our host, which I guess was a given, calling to warn us that a typhoon is coming. It isn't expected to arrive until nighttime and we immediately cross our fingers that the forecast will be right; we have an Alcatraz tour starting in a few hours, and that involves a boat. Boats are not our friend at the best of times, let alone when a thyphoon is rolling in. Friggs.

As we're strolling out of our cute, hilly neighbourhood it dons on us that not only are we not wearing coats (surely, sweaters must be sufficient for a boat ride to a rock in the middle of the bay), we literally didn't bring any. More on the consequences of that later.

We have to walk half a dozen blocks to make it to the transit stop and within one or two, we're reminded of who's hood we're in. The Castro district is as colorful as I thought it might be.

Every second shop on Castro Street sells porn and G-strings and the Castro theatre, after the Toy Story double feature ends this week, will be showing a Rue McClanahan revue. That's right, Blanche from the Golden Girls is the coming attraction.

We hop on the street car and take the scenic route downtown, but don't make it to our stop before I get quesy and we need to jump off. This ended up being perfect, because we happened along some intersting sights as we finished the rest of the route on foot.

We spend a bit of time browsing Fisherman's Wharf, but the main mission is finding those sea lions. I clap when I hear them around the corner and holy, they were a sight to behold!

Big, noisy, smelly, ridiculous.

It soon starts to rain and before we know it, we're buying $20 jackets in some cheesy tourist trap of a store. Warm on the inside, waterproof on the outside outweighs their shoddy make and coordinating colors. That's right, now we're those idiots who walk around in matching outfits...For the love, I did not ever want to be on of "those", but when in Rome, do as the Romans do. Or in this case, when in a big city where you're completely anonymous, be willing to do shit you never thought you'd do.

When we board the Alcatraz cruise and realize I need to stick my face into the wind to keep from yakking, we quickly grow to love our matchers with the San Fran patch on the breast. We clearly would have froze without them. We make it on the rock, cookies miraculously untossed, and spend the next 2+ hours learning all about the infamous Alcatraz.

It was interesting, creepy, old, and totally worth it. We see the cells, learn about some crazy escapes, even get to wander through the hospital ward - a special privledge with the night tour.

Not back on solid ground till 9 p.m. we settle for some predictable American cuisine from the Hard Rock, get it to go, and swallow a $20 cab ride home from a cabbie who had no sweet clue and ended up taking directions from me, the tourist! I used up all my patience yesterday and buddy got no tip.