#15

February 2, 2008 – Bright And Dazzling: Chapter Two

So the next day 'hangover' was the word of the day. Mine anyway. Megan dragged me out into the unrelentingly cold and rainy early afternoon to go to Sausalito, where we did what all the other tourists did: went to Starbucks (Quote for the Day: "Where my motherfuckin' Starbucks be at?") and wandered about in the cold and rain and looked at shiny things that we couldn't afford. But I did fall in love with a new artist, Daniel Merriam, and a saw a print that mesmerized me. I could have bought it too....but there's enough Nadine in me to think to go & do a little research before dropping two grand, no matter how dazzling it was. And sure enough...if I really want it, there's a gallery in Portland that'll sell one to me for $1600. Actually, I learned that it's probably a good investment & I may look into it when I get home & assess my financial situation. In the evening we just hung out at the Inn of Marin & my buddy Richard came & joined us for pizza.
And it was off to spend some time in The Big City the next day....and, again, the weather miraculously cleared for us. Cold as shit down by the wharf where we were staying, but clear. Twirled around the wharf awhile, had lunch at the ever-popular Alioto's (I've dreamt about their crabcakes), bought attractive & stylish (Megan's) & warm & fuzzy (mine) hats at Pier 39, had the inevitable cappucino ("Where my motherfuckin' Starbucks be at?"), bought outrageously overpriced gourmet dog cookies at a fancy pet accessory store down there (I refrained from any of their selection of collars although 'Nali's has been misplaced during the trip....really, $29 for a dog collar?!?), watched the sea lions and the other wildlife, human and otherwise. I finally sent Megan off on the obligatory Bay Tour on her own....again, got too damn cold for me.
That evening we headed out for my personal favorite area of SF, North Beach, to City Lights Books & some fabulous Italian food. And all was shiny, right up until we got called, and I quote, "Fucking Tourist Swine" for doing nothing more than walking the streets of that fair city.
I must take a moment here to elaborate on the issue of the San Francisco street people. Yeah, I know, I know, we got a buncha them in Austin too. Always have. I'm not sure what it is about the SF sreet people that's different. Are there more? Maybe, but there's no shortage in Austin....crazier? Hard to see how or why and for the folks out there who are familiar with Leslie, you certainly can appreciate my point....One thing's for damn sure: they're a helluva lot more aggressive. But there's some other quality here that really bothers me too....it seems more sad and desperate here somehow. Maybe they've just lost their people skills; after all, approaching someone by initially calling them 'fucking tourist swine' is hardly the way to go about hustling spare change.
Got a few great books at City Lights (because I don't have enough yet) and wandered through North Beach and picked our restaurant by which one smelled the best. The Steps of Rome Trattoria, I believe it was, where we had the stereotypical Charming Italian Waiter and, to our great fortune were seated next to the afore mentioned Kiwi Couple.
What a pair they were....outspoken, hard-drinking and madly in love. Something about their backstory didn't add up; he seemed a lot older than he claimed to be and she seemed younger, but we all had a grand time over dinner, tasting each others wine and sharing travel stories. They invited us to join then at a jazz club down the street and we went to this wonderful bar that felt just like home when we walked in. Instead of jazz, the band was playin' great dancing rock 'n' roll, everything from Elvis to the Ramones. We danced and drank beer until the wee hours and Megan and I made lots of new friends. I coulda even got laid that night, but I chickened. Kinda regretted it later because he was real sweet and very, very cute and played a nice harmonica too (somehow, I ended up with his harmonica....maybe I'll learn to play the blues on it) but I lost my nerve and Megan & I went fleeing into the night. Megan & I arrived back at our room around 2am, giggling & re-hashing the evening, until we received a call from the front desk, asking us to keep our conversation down. No music, our conversation. I mentioned we were down by the wharf in San Fran-fucking-cisco, right? In a neighborhood where, evidently, they pick up the trash at all the buildings surrounding this particular hotel at different times like 3:12 am, 3:47 am, 4:16 am, etc.
We had lots of plans for the next day and accomplished none. We both ended up sleeping til 2 pm. All that walking up and down hills, you know.
So we finally dragged our collective asses out on the street around four and since it was again raining we went just down the street to the Boudin Sourdough Bread restaurant & bar. Where we made the acquaintance of yet another new friend....Larry the Pepper Guy. He was from Colorado, vice-president of a pepper distributing company. Full of good stories and funny as hell. Megan & I kidnapped him & took him back to our room and plied him with a certain illegal substance that California is known for which he had not imbibed in ten years. I think we scared him, though, because he went fleeing into the Sam Spade night soon after.
The next morning we headed back up north of the city and bailed 'Nali out of Dog Jail and took a long and meandering and wonderful drive from somewhere near Santa Rosa through Sebastopol northwest back to the coast along Sonoma State Beach. Our buddy Larry from the night before recommended we drive out to the lighthouse at the tip of Point Reyes, so we headed south along the coast through Bodega Bay where I kept a nervous eye out for flocks of killer birds. Drove all the way out Point Reyes to land's end, headed back, got lost briefly in Petaluma & by sunset were driving through Napa Valley, heading east towards Yosemite. I left the Bay Area with conflicting emotions, admittedly, but I still cried as I watched the city lights fade away in the rearview mirror.
Spent that night in Stockton, California, a strong contender for The Asscrack of America Award. Too tired to search for anything decent, it was Denny's For Dinner once again.
And were back on the road in the morning, heading for the hills. The Sierra Nevada Goddamn Mountains. And, apparently, right into a blizzard, though that term may be a bit strong. We got into the park, though we were supposed to have chains. All in all, it wasn't too bad, though. Went & had a little snack & a glass of wine at the impressive & historic Ahwanhee Hotel where I worked in the kitchen once upon a time & admired the huge fireplaces & Native American art. Headed on down to the lodge area where Megan wanted to walk the short trail to the Lower Yosemite Falls, but I wasn't dressed for the weather yet - lots of snow coming down - so 'Nali & I waited in the car. It only takes about five minutes in summer, but I figured if she wasn't back in a day or so I could always eat the dog. '
'Nali wasn't allowed in the park accomodations & what with the whole tire chain issue & the snow coming harder, we decided to head out of the actual park & seek shelter in El Portal just down the road, but lower enough in elevation that it was just rain there. And lucked again into a wonderful place to stay, The Yosemite View Lodge, where we have a room with the Merced River rushing right off our balcony. Also equipped with a cozy gas fireplace and a big-ass jacuzzi tub. All for a $119 a night. Travelling off-season does have its benefits. Had a great dinner at the hotel restaurant/bar as the only guests & played Are You Smarter Than A Fifth-Grader on TV with the bartender.
This morning it was still misty/foggy and gray, but the rain had stopped, so after we got some laundry done, we headed back into the park. Had a couple of really close encounters with some wildlife, twice with a sad-eyed coyote panhandling off cars beside the road and one with a bobcat sauntering casually along a road next to some service buildings. Megan got great video & pics of all of it! No bears, though. They're probably all asleep.
Took a coupla nice walks, out the Lower Falls Trail and out across the bridge in the meadow near where I used to live. Looked for the old dorms, but they were gone. Later talked to an old-time employee who told me they were lost to a flood in '97.
I was right, though, when I said to Megan, "They should be right here."