Since the timing was right, I hopped off at Union Square for an insightful one-hour guided Chinatown walking tour with an enthusiastic middle-aged male guide (and received an added bonus - a freshly-baked fortune cookie from the factory - during a stop there). It was then I began feeling the effects of an uncharacteristically sunny 70-degree SF day, shed my fleece jacket, and began the first round of sunscreen application. (Despite my diligence, I woke up the next day with red splotches on my forehead and upper chest caused by riding atop the bus.)
My next stop was the Fisherman's Wharf's Pier 39. The tour company gave me a free 7-D Experience coupon that I was determined to use (I love a bargain and never pass up a freebie), so I made a beeline for that and decided to browse for lunch options afterwards. The simulated ride was fast and fun, but not one I would have wanted to pay for. Basically, you buckle yourself into a moving seat wearing 3-D (7-D?) glasses, shooting zombies on a giant screen, many of whom jump out at you, for approximately two minutes. No surprise, since I suck at gaming, that I finished last among my fellow riders (a bunch of kids and their parents).
Lunch was more successful. I opted for the obligatory clam chowder in a sourdough bread bowl (you know, the meal everyone says you have to eat in San Francisco), which turned out to be worth its hype. I don't think I'd ever had clam chowder before (except maybe once out of a Campbell's soup can), and definitely not like that!
After lunch, a bit of shop browsing, and a look at the sunbathing sea lions (which you can smell before you see), I'd tired of the pier's crowded theme-park atmosphere (more to come at Disney) and moved on to a different kind of circus: Haight-Ashbury. I was excited to walk the iconic streets, which literally housed Jimi Hendrix and Janis Joplin back in the 60s. It truly is a time capsule back to the psychedelic era. But what I didn't love was being approached by someone with a CD (a scam I'd been warned about) and stepping over and around homeless people (a sight I'll never get used to seeing). After snapping photos and browsing shop windows, I was ready to get back on the bus after 20 minutes of wandering.
Instead of getting off at Golden Gate Park (the next stop), I opted to exit at the Palace of Fine Arts, a familiar landmark not far from my hotel. I walked across the street to Crissy Field, where I'd happily watched kite surfers and glimpsed the Golden Gate Bridge on my first afternoon in the city, spent quality time there, grabbed takeout down the street, and returned to my hotel for the night.
On my last day in San Francisco, I had a set agenda: Golden Gate Park, Sausalito, and North Beach. My plan to start with Stop 3, North Beach (home of the Beat Museum, City Lights Booksellers, and Allen Ginsberg's hangout, Caffe Trieste), hit a snag because the shops hadn't opened, so I moved on to Golden Gate Park, one of my SF must-sees. I couldn't get lost (so to speak) there because of my time crunch, but I allowed myself an hour to walk in the Rose Garden, around the de Young and California Academy of Science buildings, and the Japanese Tea Garden. It was a peaceful place, one I would have loved to linger in, but I stuck to my allotted hour and returned to the bus stop to wait. I must have just missed the bus...or it was seriously delayed by Memorial Day weekend traffic...because I waited more than 30 minutes for the next bus, losing precious touring time.
Turned out, that was the story of the day. I could actually hear the clock ticking in my mind, counting down the hours until my airport shuttle arrived. When the bus finally showed up, the next stop, the Golden Gate Bridge, merged into wild holiday traffic, ruling out a walk along the pedestrian path, and making me wonder if I should play it safe and skip the included one-hour Sausalito tour. It was only 1 pm, however, which left approximately four hours. I didn't want to waste an opportunity, but I didn't want to be stranded either.
I took a gamble and rode into Sausalito, but there was no way I was getting off the shuttle with an estimated 45-minute wait (and a throng of anxious tourists clamoring for a ride back). Between slow traffic and a transfer delay, I lost precious time. An hour, in fact. As a result, I didn't get to North Beach until 3:45 pm. My pre-trip fantasies of leisurely browsing Ginsberg's haunts, paging through bookstore offerings and sipping a cappuccino went up in a cloud of diesel fumes (it's not easy to stroll when on the verge of a panic attack).
But I made it. I saw the essentials, grabbed that Caffe Trieste cappuccino to go, and was Ubered back to my hotel, where I grabbed my stored bag, and had time to eat dinner before my airport shuttle arrived at 6 pm. I bid farewell to San Francisco and flew south, Disney-bound.
