Bird hunting in the City by the Bay

 

 Arrived in San Francisco about 10 minutes ago (officially), now the wait. Two thousand people need to pass through the passport stuff. I mean we did spent a whopping 6 hours in a high risk country. Victoria, Canada.

Last evening around 6pm I decided it was time for dinner, and the ship decided it was time to leave the safety of Puget Sound, and the Strait of Juan De Fuca. As soon as land was behind us the ship started bouncing and rocking. Then it go worse. I am pretty good with motion sickness, but this was on the edge. All night we crashed and banged south. The morning wasn’t much better. You know when the weather is bumpy when the little white bags at at the head of the stairs. Around mid day things started to settle down and the green alien looking people began to morph into humans again.

I had a purse of US. currency, but only 20’s and Benjamin's, not exactly tip money. I passed a Black Jack table and asked the dealer if he could change cash into chips, and walked away with seven $5 chips for my $40 (I would have had eight but I left one for him). Much later I passed the Craps table, it was dead. No one playing. That’s is no fun. The fun of Craps is the people yelling and the chips flying. But I was bored. I tossed $27 in various wagers ($22 inside and $5 Pass) and figured I’ll toss the dice and see if I could break even, just to kill 10 or so minutes. Something went wrong with that plan. The red fives changed into a Green $25 and a shiny Black $100 and my initial bet. The men got $10 and now have enough for tips for the most of the rest of the voyage.

I have had steak two times on NCL vessels. Both times it was at Cagney’s the ship’s specialty (read additional cost) restaurant. The ribeye was huge and stringy and tough and honestly the worst steak I have ever experienced. The butcher should have been forced to write a letter to the steers mother and apologize for what he did with her son. The reason I had it twice is because I knew it couldn’t be as bad as it was the first time. It was.

Last night I thought I’d try them again. Gawd it was noisy. There was one guy across the room who was so loud I had to turn on the noise filter on my hearing aids just so I could think enough to read my e-book. The wine steward was on quite an up sell. I just wanted a basic Burgundy, BUT ! for just a few dollars more I could get a much better wine. I tried to convince him that ‘Two Buck Chuck’ from Trader Joe’s was good enough for me, especially since I wasn’t expecting 45 day dry aged Angus beef from this joint. I had to get snippy with him and tell him to quit trying to up sell me. I think I became a magician at that point, because after he brought the glass I never saw him again.

The steak this time a fillet. The review: Better than the ribeye …… somewhat. The post dinner Frangelico was great.

A bit of music at one of the bars and a drink and lights out.

Henri, M.J. and August names I need to remember of some of the staff.

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The ship not flopping in the night was Wonderful.

After the Customs stuff. I was on the street with no plans. Then I looked up at Coit Tower high atop Telegraph Hill. Telegraph Hill? Hmm… I read a book and saw a film based on “The parrots of Telegraph Hill” a couple decades ago. Mr. Google said the parrots were frequently seen at Pioneer Park a 12 minute walk. Fair enough. The zig-zag line on Google Maps kind of confused me, but off we go! You know what the zig-zag line turned out to be? Stairs ! My Nemesis. I found that every time my heart rate was reaching higher than my house number and breath was coming in huge gulps that there suddenly was the most interesting thing to stop to look and really absorb the view. I promise you it wasn’t to rest and catch up.

You’ll never guess where Pioneer Park is located. At the top of that darned hill. My house sits at 325 feet above sea level. According to Google Telegraph is 300 feet tall. Somebody’s lying (Fellow cruiser from the Bay Area, said it was closer to 425 feet). I have walked from sea level to my house numerous times and never sweated as much at today’s parrot trek.

At the top there is a tall cement phallus pointing to the sky. It’s supposed to look like a fire nozzle to thank the fire fighters for their efforts after the 1910 earthquake and fires. I’m not sure what I would have presented the city in thanks, but a cement dick probably wouldn’t have been it.

Looking around there was not a Psittacidae (parrot to you non big word users) in sight or hearing. A great grand mother was guarding the door to the tower so I asked her if the parrots were usually here. She almost gleefully told me that some guy wrote a book about them. He used to feed them so they hung around the area. Now it was illegal to feed the parrots, though you could still have a bird feeder for I assume approved birds. She was probably the one standing outside grocery stores with the no parrot feeding petition.

Well I guess just because I didn’t accomplish the task I started out for, but it was alright. I did have one task to accomplish while I was there. I needed to pee. There was an oddly shaped building that was the unisex toilet. It was occupied and I was fearing that a junkie was shooting up in it since it was lit ‘occupied’. A short wait and a tourist looking man emerged. I pushed the button to enter and was informed “Please wait. Cleaning in progress”. Huh? I could hear machines clanking, water running, water flushing and fans blowing. Then the light changed to green and the door opened to a very clean but wet toilet. I had seen several Waymo driverless taxis today, but a driverless toilet was completely unexpected.

I overheard a couple say that North Beach was just ‘down there’. That seemed like a reasonable place to go, especially when the word ‘down’ was included in the sentence.

More steps, some even requiring a handrail down to North Beach. Now a t-shirt, Italian restaurant and Gelato haven. In the 1960’s, before the hippies, Jack Kerouac, Alan Ginsberg and others of the beat generation called North Beach home, along with Dorothea Lang, the depression area photographer. Then came the Hungry-i home to the likes of the Kingston Trio and Lenny Bruce. They either went out of fashion or O.D.’ed and the next incarnation came Carol Doda, she was a B cup at a topless place called the Condor. Then became a C cup and then kept on growing eventually ending a 44DD’s, known in advertising as packing “Twin 44’s”. So lots of history. I did my best to locate these places, and failed for the most part, though the Condor still has it’s huge sign on the corner. But I think along with the Hungry-i that Carol Dora’s twin 44 have become dust. But maybe silicone doesn’t degrade.

An Italian delicatessen caught my eye and I ordered the house special. It was perfection wrapped in carbs. It was so big I honestly could only stuff half of it into my maw. I did manage to find it a good home with the man at the next table.

A mandatory stop at the Apple Store, just because, where I caught sight of a selfie of myself on the iPhone 17 Pro Max. “Theresa you really should have gotten your tresses trimmed before leaving home.” I had tried, but the salon didn’t have an opening until after this trip started. I found a very nice salon on the way back to the ship and got my hair cut. It looks so much better and eally feels so much lighter.

Back towards the ship down to the wharf where all the over priced fish that you could desire is located. They had broiled, boiled, baked, fried, chowder, soup and Chopino, I’m starting to sound like Bubba Gump talking about shrimp. Past the buskers of violins and steel drums. The gauntlet of Pedicabs and finally back to the ship, for an relaxing hour with my feet up.

This did bring back a memory from decades ago. I was in town with my lover and we needed to return to a block on the other side of a huge hill and asked a taxi what the fare could be. We were quoted around $20. This was when $20 could buy at least ten coffees, instead of the current three. A Pedicab driver asked us where we were going and we explained the $20 taxi dilemma to him. He said “I can get you there for less than that !”. I pointed out the hill and he said he could do it. We hopped on. He began peddling and was really working hard. He came to a stop in the financial district, miles from where we wanted. He said “Go down those stairs and catch the BART to the third stop. The BART costs $1.50 each. That will be $15”. We paid with a smile, he had gotten us to out destination for less that $20. I had to admire his voracity. He did exactly what he said he would, not what we were expecting, but a man true to his word.

Good night