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I checked out of the motel and drove to the local supermarket to buy some fruit for breakfast. Next door I found a department store where I bought a big suitcase. I've been accumulating stuff for a while on this trip: new shoes, clothes, books, and so on, and it's been filling up my car but there's no room in my backpack for any more. A new suitcase, complete with wheels and an extendable handle, means I can keep buying stuff without worrying about how I will fit it on the plane!
After a quick cruise -- er, I mean *drive* -- around downtown Modesto, of which there's not a lot I can say except it seems like a normal American town, I headed for San Francisco. It took about an hour an a half along various freeways with easy to follow signs. I knew I was in SF after I crossed the Bay Bridge. I drove randomly for a while, trying to get my bearings, and found a sign for the Golden Gate bridge. It seemed as good a place to start as any, so I followed it.
At red lights (how come there are so few of these when you're lost?) I looked at the map in my LP. I found my way into the marina comples where there was ample parking and a good view over the bay and the bridge. I took a walk, read my guidebook and got my bearings.
I headed for the Fort Point Lookout at the southern end of the bridge; the SF side, and from here took some pictures before driving across the bridge to the vista point there, from which the whole of SF is visible, and Berkely and of course the bridge. Having had my fill of bridge sightseeing I drove back across and found somewhere to park downtown.
I explored around the Union Square part of town. San Francisco is an interesting town with a mixture of styles. Its overhead power cables for trams and buses make it seem like a European city. From some angles it reminds me of London. But the grid layout and steep hills make it unmistakably SF.
Another feature is the overwhelming number of homeless people, more than in any other city I've been to. I wonder if this has any connection with the hippie, Bohemian history of the city. Certainly I saw a few aging hippies about the place, and "Defend America, Defeat Bush" bumper stickers and vegetarians with placards about chickens being as intelligent as dogs so boycott KFC; I wouldn't be surprised if the politics here are about as leftwards as they get in the USA, and if that somehow causes the concentration of homeless. Many of them beg for money -- the homeless that is, not so much the vegetarians -- but most just ignore you.
Near Union Square I saw a policeman on a rather excellent C.H.I.P.S style motorbike with polished chrome everywhere. I waved my camera and grinned at him to get permission to take a photo and he smiled back at me. Then he offered to let me sit on the bike while he took *my* photo, which rather made my day! I thanked him and sang the praises of his machine before continuing on my way.
There are lots of shops around here so I stopped in CompUSA to buy more memory for my digital camera and in a Virgin Megastore to buy the Secret Machines CD. They're one of the bands whose music has withstood endless repeat playings on the Alt Nation radio stations. Many other songs, like the Velvet Revolver one, now drive me mad whenever I hear them.
I soon found myself in the financial district which is full of old brick and new glass buldings. It's a very attractive part of town, brimming with money and people in expensive suits. When I reached the ferry terminal I turned round and saw I had a huge hill to climb to go the way I wanted. Instead I took one of the cablecars up California Avenue. This is a bit like a tram but pulled by a cable under the road. They're fantastic open sided vehicles and people cling the outside of them, in violation of all modern health and safety standards. There is quite a feeling of vertigo looking out the back while ascending the steep hill.
By now it was quite late so I headed back to the car park. On the way I found a Borders that is open until 11pm even on Sundays so I stopped and had a coffee and a read. I'm now checked in to the Hostelling International place at Fisherman's Wharf.
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