I’m fairly well traveled, in fact I’ve been to 52 countries in my 28 years on earth. However, it wasn’t until I few weeks ago I had the joy of going to San Francisco.
I’ll admit, despite my obvious excitement,
I was actually a little bit worried about going. I’ve been dreaming of San Francisco for years, and I’ve learned that sometimes, exceedingly high expectations can cause a place to lose its luster. Generally, places about which I have the lowest expectations end up being some of the best places I’ve been (e.g., Uganda) whereas places about which I have the highest expectations can end up being a big fat disappointment (e.g. Dubrovnik). So, it was with just an ounce of trepidation that I boarded the Virgin America flight from YYZ to SFO.
I needn’t have worried about the city by the bay. It captivated me. Over the course of three days we spent almost all our time on foot, visiting as many neighbourhoods as we could. We spent about 50 kms worth of time on foot, in fact. We even walked back to our Union Square hotel from Sausalito.
I think this trip was the start of a beautiful love affair. Everything came together to make it perfect. Perfect flight. Perfect weather. Perfect company. Perfect little hotel. On Friday, while the hubs was at a business meeting, I ate a burrito in the Mission, I wandered into the shops along Haight, and visited the “official” painted ladies at Alamo Square, I topped off my day with delicious sushi at a teensy tiny yet fabulous little restaurant.
On Saturday, when the hubs joined me, we ate the world’s most fabulous breakfast (at yet another teensy tiny, yet fabulous restaurant), took the cable car up to Lombard street and got our breath taken away by the views.
We wandered around Fisherman’s warf, where the hubs enjoyed a chowder in a sourdough bread bowl. And we boarded the Blue and Gold ferry to Sausalito, via Tiburon.
Then we walked and walked and walked across the bridge, to Chrissy field, through Marina, up Polk Street and back to our hotel. I’m going to provide you with numerous Golden Gate Bridge photos. Because I can’t pick just one.
Sunday morning we woke up refreshed and set off through the Stockton Street tunnel into Chinatown, then up into little Italy and up to Coit Tower, where we said hello to Christopher Columbus (any idea why he’s there?)
We walked down the Filbert Street Steps (which I love) and grabbed a coffee (and tea for me) at the Market. We then were ravenous and went for delicious dim sum. We took a bus all the way out to Outer Richmond and walked back to Union Square, through the Golden Gate Park and the Haight and along Market Street as the sun came out and warmed us to our core. We topped the day off with delicious fondue and wine-on-tap (well Jon did, I’m on my “dry January”). On Monday, the hubs had to drag me, kicking and screaming, onto that plane back to YYZ.
When I think back to my long weekend, I am filled with the warm and fuzzies. I loved every minute of it. Even when my feet were on fire from walking 50km. I loved those minutes too… And, as cheesy as it sounds, I really did leave my heart in San Francisco.