Vacation Recap: The Final Chapter
Picking up where I left off, I departed Kanako and Paul's for a good night's sleep at Sei and Christine's. The next morning I was going to meet up with Melissa, who was leaving town for the weekend. But fate intervened in the form of some San Francisco utility repairmen, who cut off the power to Sei and Christine's house and made it impossible for me to open the garage door and take out the car that the Lee/Kims had kindly lent to me for the day. The power went back on after several hours, and I headed over to Crocker-Amazon Ingleside to meet up with Melissa. After spending about forty-five minutes at the post office, we went northeast to the Mission to wander around. Nothing much happened during our desultory wanderings, other than me buying The Nine Tailors and Scribbling the Cat and discovering that not only are David Foster Wallace and Dave Eggers not the same person, but that neither went to the University of Chicago.
Melissa and I returned toCrocker-Amazon Ingleside, and I headed off to pick up Christine at UCSF. As typically happens while driving through San Francisco neighborhoods, I mentioned to Christine that the area around the hospital was quite nice and asked if it was expensive. And, of course, the answer: “Yes, very.”
We grabbed Glen and headed over to Shanghai Dumpling. The meal was tasty, especially the doughy desert dumplings, which tasted good even after I had dumped them by accident in some broth during an especially poor period of chopstick handling.
The next day, Toby and Cliff were going to pick me up for camping at Arroyo Seco. I urged them not to, but they went grocery shopping before getting me, so I had time to watch both Silent Movie and The Adventure of Sherlock Holmes' Smarter Brother while waiting for their arrival. They arrived, the car packed with a ton of groceries and Toby in a somewhat foul mood. But we headed off down Highway 110 with high hopes for an adventurous weekend. We stopped for gas and Carl Jr.'s in Gilroy, around which time we discovered that the campground we were heading for actually did take reservations and that they were completely booked up. They recommended we try a place called Miller's Lodge, which was just down the road a piece.
Miller's Lodge was a strange place. It was part redneck hangout, part weekend getaway spot for Mexican families from Salinas. The actual lodge looked like it hadn't been touched since at least the late fifties, while the campsites were strewn along a creek between bluffs. The setting was quite scenic, and the first night was nice. We set up camp next to a swimming hole and proceeded to try to make a dent in some of the groceries Toby and Cliff had bought.
The next day we planned on going to a winery or perhaps driving over the coastal mountains to Big Sur, but we ended up just swimming, sleeping and eating as our campsite was slowly engulfed by at least twenty large groups of partying Mexican families. During the evening, Toby decided that she wanted to bake a cake in the fireplace. I argued against this, but we went up to the lodge, bought the ingredients and attempted to bake the cake at the edge of the fire. I'm not exactly sure how it turned out.
The next day, we broke camp and headed back toward the Bay Area. We stopped at a local winery where I bought some late vintage Pinot Noir. And then we headed to Santa Cruz, with thoughts of perhaps seeing the boardwalk. But driving into Santa Cruz, we ran across a huge flea market, which was irresistible to Toby, so we spent several hours in the hot sun walking around looking at junk. When we got to Santa Cruz, we ended up caught in a huge traffic jam, and decided that the boardwalk wasn't worth it.
At that point, I hadn't eaten anything all day, and all I had to drink was several swigs of wine at the winery. So I admit I was in a bad mood, and Toby and I got into a slight disagreement. She dropped me off at the Fruitvale BART station in Oakland, and I phoned Glen to see if he could pick me up in downtown San Francisco. Ever patient Glen agreed, and we headed back to Sei and Christine's, and then to Murasaki for sushi.
Unfortunately, I had dehydrated myself and started feeling not too great as the plates of raw fish began arriving at the table. Nurse Christine urged me to drink the soup and eat the ginger, but I was feeling worse and worse, so I finally had to go lie down in Sei and Christine's car. Thankfully, after about forty-five minutes or so, I started feeling better, so I left the car (somehow setting off the alarm) and went back to the restaurant for a hearty bowl of udon.
The next day was Christine's birthday. Christine, Glen and I met Kanako for lunch at a famous San Francisco lunch place (I forget the name, but I remember that I spilled Dr. Pepper all over the table) and then we wandered around the Fillmore area, where I bought some used clothes. Then for the evening, we went to the Slanted Door restaurant in the Embarcadero. Here's a pic of Sei, Christine and Paul outside of the restaurant and in front of the Bay Bridge:
And for my final day in San Francisco, Sei and I went hiking in Point Reyes. It was an amazing hike to a waterfall on the beach, and we ran into some skinny-dipping ex-hippies who recommended white tea from Whole Foods as an anti-oxidant. That evening, Sei and Christine drove me over to Oakland, where we had a good meal at a restaurant on Piedmont Avenue called Baywolf, I believe. I asked if any of the homey cottages in that neighborhood were affordable. The answer: no, not at all. After dinner we headed to the Oakland Airport, where I caught my red-eye home to Chicago.
Melissa and I returned to
We grabbed Glen and headed over to Shanghai Dumpling. The meal was tasty, especially the doughy desert dumplings, which tasted good even after I had dumped them by accident in some broth during an especially poor period of chopstick handling.
The next day, Toby and Cliff were going to pick me up for camping at Arroyo Seco. I urged them not to, but they went grocery shopping before getting me, so I had time to watch both Silent Movie and The Adventure of Sherlock Holmes' Smarter Brother while waiting for their arrival. They arrived, the car packed with a ton of groceries and Toby in a somewhat foul mood. But we headed off down Highway 110 with high hopes for an adventurous weekend. We stopped for gas and Carl Jr.'s in Gilroy, around which time we discovered that the campground we were heading for actually did take reservations and that they were completely booked up. They recommended we try a place called Miller's Lodge, which was just down the road a piece.
Miller's Lodge was a strange place. It was part redneck hangout, part weekend getaway spot for Mexican families from Salinas. The actual lodge looked like it hadn't been touched since at least the late fifties, while the campsites were strewn along a creek between bluffs. The setting was quite scenic, and the first night was nice. We set up camp next to a swimming hole and proceeded to try to make a dent in some of the groceries Toby and Cliff had bought.
The next day we planned on going to a winery or perhaps driving over the coastal mountains to Big Sur, but we ended up just swimming, sleeping and eating as our campsite was slowly engulfed by at least twenty large groups of partying Mexican families. During the evening, Toby decided that she wanted to bake a cake in the fireplace. I argued against this, but we went up to the lodge, bought the ingredients and attempted to bake the cake at the edge of the fire. I'm not exactly sure how it turned out.
The next day, we broke camp and headed back toward the Bay Area. We stopped at a local winery where I bought some late vintage Pinot Noir. And then we headed to Santa Cruz, with thoughts of perhaps seeing the boardwalk. But driving into Santa Cruz, we ran across a huge flea market, which was irresistible to Toby, so we spent several hours in the hot sun walking around looking at junk. When we got to Santa Cruz, we ended up caught in a huge traffic jam, and decided that the boardwalk wasn't worth it.
At that point, I hadn't eaten anything all day, and all I had to drink was several swigs of wine at the winery. So I admit I was in a bad mood, and Toby and I got into a slight disagreement. She dropped me off at the Fruitvale BART station in Oakland, and I phoned Glen to see if he could pick me up in downtown San Francisco. Ever patient Glen agreed, and we headed back to Sei and Christine's, and then to Murasaki for sushi.
Unfortunately, I had dehydrated myself and started feeling not too great as the plates of raw fish began arriving at the table. Nurse Christine urged me to drink the soup and eat the ginger, but I was feeling worse and worse, so I finally had to go lie down in Sei and Christine's car. Thankfully, after about forty-five minutes or so, I started feeling better, so I left the car (somehow setting off the alarm) and went back to the restaurant for a hearty bowl of udon.
The next day was Christine's birthday. Christine, Glen and I met Kanako for lunch at a famous San Francisco lunch place (I forget the name, but I remember that I spilled Dr. Pepper all over the table) and then we wandered around the Fillmore area, where I bought some used clothes. Then for the evening, we went to the Slanted Door restaurant in the Embarcadero. Here's a pic of Sei, Christine and Paul outside of the restaurant and in front of the Bay Bridge:
And for my final day in San Francisco, Sei and I went hiking in Point Reyes. It was an amazing hike to a waterfall on the beach, and we ran into some skinny-dipping ex-hippies who recommended white tea from Whole Foods as an anti-oxidant. That evening, Sei and Christine drove me over to Oakland, where we had a good meal at a restaurant on Piedmont Avenue called Baywolf, I believe. I asked if any of the homey cottages in that neighborhood were affordable. The answer: no, not at all. After dinner we headed to the Oakland Airport, where I caught my red-eye home to Chicago.
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