A Thousand Stories

There's not a lot of air conditioning here in San Francisco, probably because the climate just doesn't call for it. Still, we were a little surprised to find our hotel room equipped with a ceiling fan and big, double hung windows that open wide. On the ninth and top floor of our circa 1910 building, our room looks east over a painted iron fire escape and a gorgeous city scape. During the day, the bay peeks out from between buildings, but at night the view is even better in some ways.

Last night after we turned the lights out, I sat for a while at the window. The thrum and muffle of the streets rose up and into the room on the cool night air. Occasionally a car horn or clear phrase voiced by an invisible person pierced the steady hum. Hundreds of windows lit the skyline, some shaded or too far away to be anything other than light, others with visible details: here a stove, there a lamp, a TV, an empty chair, a man brushing his teeth. 

I sat in the darkness, city above, city below, and then surrounded by the city and its sounds I slipped into bed and slept.

It's All Uphill from Here

We walked around six miles today exploring San Francisco. Armed with my trusty tour book and hotel map, I plotted a course that took us through Union Square, down Market Street to the  Ferry Terminal and Market, along the Embarcadero, and through Fisherman's Wharf to Ghiradelli Square. The only thing I wasn't completely sure of were the hills, but I figured if we stayed close to the waterfront we would be fine. My return route involved hopping a cable car to take us up and over Russian Hill with a quick stop at Lombard Street.

Turns out, I wasn't the only one trying to avoid hills and after a quick glance at the long line of people at the bottom of Hyde Street, we agreed to walk up, and possibly hop the cable car en route. Wow! What a climb! We were huffing our way up when behind us a bell rang cheerfully to alert anyone hoping to catch a ride that there were no seats on this car. With a sigh, we continued our ascent, catching up with the stopped cable car a couple of blocks further.

Yellow police tape blocked the street, and the only way to get to Lombard Street was to go down and back up. We paused to catch our breaths, hoping the situation would be resolved shortly. The folks on the cable car waited, too, and any car who tried to enter was waved away by the police. Finally it became evident that we would not be able to pass this way any time soon, and so with a grumble, we turned left and down a street so steep that cars were not allowed to parallel park; rather they pulled straight in to the curb.

Halfway down the block I spied a staircase with a street sign (!) leading in the direction we wanted to go, so we took it, and a at the top there was a short block that led us to the "crookedest street" in the world, and a young man who waved us away. It seems that they were shooting a movie, and they needed Lombard Street clear. From above we heard someone call action and smoke billowed. Below, a single figure crossed the street with his shopping cart. A few minutes later we were allowed to quickly descend, where we were met by a confused cop. "How did you all get through?" he wondered.

Our adventure was not over yet. Down we climbed to pick up another cable car line to take us back to our hotel. After waiting in a long curvy queue, we hopped on board and were snapping some pictures when the friendly conductor informed us that there was a problem with the cable in Chinatown, and we would have to switch to a shuttle bus there. Not us, though. No we hiked another four blocks up hill and waited for yet another cable car. When we climbed off a few minutes later, it was all downhill to our hotel.

Later, relaxing with my feet up, I did a little research about these famous hills. I discovered that an enterprising citizen has actually created an app that will show you how hilly the streets around you are, so you can plan accordingly. "Sometimes I like to take the hilliest route possible," he writes. With somewhat of a different frame of mind, I punched in the address of my hotel, and here's the image I got:

Since red means uphill, that explains a lot! Clearly MC Escher designed this city!

California Here We Are

Our flight touched down at 11:15 am local time, which provided more than enough time to be crammed into the tiniest airplane seat I have ever experienced, but the weather here in San Francisco, 68 and sunny, promised to make up for the inconvenience.

At our hotel, that attitude of friendly accommodation continued, and they allowed us to check in hours ahead of the regular time. After dropping off our bags, we were off, meeting up with a friend from school who is here for the same conference that Heidi will attend. We ate lunch at a local place and then used our handy hotel-provided map to find the Cable Car Museum, which was a steep little hike up and over Nob Hill.

Watching the ginormous gears that actually spin the cables that drag those famous cars around this town was fascinating, and on a whim, I bought a book at the gift shop called Historic Walks in San Francisco: 18 Trails Through the City's Past. With that in hand, we walked down Washington Street to Chinatown and picked up the tour at stop 11. Yikes! If our guide was even half accurate, we learned that the history of that neighborhood is tightly woven together by opium, prostitution, gambling, prostitution, government corruption, prostitution, gang riots over a prostitute, prostitution, slave markets where girls were sold into prostitution, prostitution, squalid places where sick and old prostitutes were dumped to die, and of course prostitution. Even Rube Goldberg owned a brothel! (Wouldn't you like to see that cartoon?)

After all that sordid history, we climbed four flights of stairs to visit the oldest Chinese temple in the US. Despite French doors flung open to a wide balcony overlooking Waverly Place, the air was thick with incense. Oranges were stacked on every flat surface and hundreds of slips of red paper hung from the lanterns covering the ceiling, each representing an offering and a prayer.

Back on the street, we made our way back along Grant Avenue to St. Mary's, and at the bottom of California Street we hopped a cable car and rode back up and over Nob Hill, and then walked on down Hyde Street to our hotel.

Here We Come

When I was a kid, our family had the good fortune to be able to fly for free since my dad worked for an airline. Back then, we had some good friends who moved to Huntington Beach, California, and we traveled from our home in New Jersey to visit them often. Even before they lived there, though, California was our vacation destination more than once. We visited Disneyland and Knott's Berry Farm, then flew north to see the central coast and the Redwoods. A few years later, we had other friends who lived in Monterey, which was also a fun trip.

As much as my brother, sister, and I traveled by airplane, it never really lost its excitement for us, and we never grew tired of visiting the Golden State. There was always some point in our journey where one of us would turn to the others and sing, softly at first, California here I come...

And then a chorus of three would continue:

right back where I started from.

Then a little louder,

Open up those Golden Gates--

now

the 

BIG 

finish,

California here we come!

Millbrook Charlie Gordon

Today when I logged onto my online banking account, there was an automated message asking me to change my security questions. I could have skipped it, as I often do, but on a Saturday in July I had plenty of time to jump through a few hoops designed to keep my fortunes safe.

In our household the division of labor is such that I manage most of the financial accounts, so there are times when I am called upon to answer personal questions on Heidi's behalf. Of course I could consult her or even make up the responses (especially since it would likely be me who had to provide the correct answers in the event of a forgotten password or something), but I don't.

I like to consider those occasions little trivia quizzes about Heidi, quizzes that, if I may say so, I ace every time.

Well... she is one of my favorite subjects.

BONUS: What three questions did I answer today?

Job Benefits

What a busy summer it's been so far! Kyle, Josh, Maine, Buffalo, Hershey, Annabelle and Richard, Kyle, Courtney and all the fun that goes with them. It's amazing to me that, when I stop to do the math, our vacation is not even half over, yet. Four weeks ago was our last day of school; five weeks from Monday, we head back.

Richard and Annabelle are on a different schedule, though. They report back to class just two weeks from Monday. Of course, they've been out since May. Growing up in the north, our schedule when we were kids was much more similar to mine now-- school days were from September until June, and while it's hard not to be a little jealous knowing we have three or four more weeks when some people are starting their summer breaks, it feels pretty great right about now looking forward to more than another month off.

These are the times when it's pretty hard to complain about being a teacher.

The Stoop

We live in a townhouse-style condominium community that was designed to balance privacy with common space. For example, we have two balconies in the rear of our unit that offer a fair amount of privacy, and a small front porch that really doesn't: even though we are the end unit, there's always foot traffic.

Because of fire safety laws, the front is where I have to cook when I want to use the grill. As a result, that backyard barbecue vibe is generally absent from my outdoor cooking. I'm usually in and out, poking and flipping, in between other kitchen chores, and when the food is done I carry it right back into the house.

That was not so tonight, however. My sister is in town for a rare visit, and with my brother, sister-in-law, and nephew on their way over for dinner, we moved the party out front when it came time to cook the veggies and chicken for our fajitas. 

The weather was gorgeous, and a couple of lawn chairs, a couple if folding chairs, a glass of wine, a cold beer, and a game of pick up sticks played on a makeshift table were all we needed to enjoy the evening. Heck, we didn't even need those, but it was nice to have them.

The folks that passed by did not appear to be the least bit inconvenienced. No, if anything, they seemed charmed by our little gathering. When the food was done, we moved inside, but those lawn chairs are still out there, and who knows? Maybe we'll get some more use out of them.