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The Rest Of San Francisco

Per­do­nen pe­ro me da pa­ja tra­du­cir­lo to­do. Ca­paz que en un par de días lo ha­go!

I wro­te about the trip and the se­gway tour a whi­le ago. But tha­t's not all that ha­ppe­ned in San Fran­cis­co, of cour­se.

I for­got to men­tion that on one of the air­por­ts the­re was a dis­play of an­ti­que boar­dga­me­s:


Ale­jan­dro Cu­ra would ha­ve bro­ken that gla­ss, and tried to play whi­le the po­li­ce cha­sed hi­m.

I did­n't know San Fran­cis­co had a sig­n-i­n-­the-hi­ll like Ho­ll­ywood


Not qui­te as gla­mo­rous.

The Se­gway trip en­ded in a ... ra­ther sce­nic pla­ce:


Old shi­p... che­ck.


Sk­y­li­ne... che­ck.


Al­ca­tra­z... che­ck.


Bri­dge view... che­ck.

So the­re I said goodb­ye to my steel pon­y, good old se­gg­cra­tes, and went out for a wa­lk.


Ar­gen­ti­nes-on­ly jo­ke:


La fo­to con la es­ta­tua del lo­bo ma­ri­no!


The sea lion co­lony at the pier­s.

We had a gri­lled chee­se san­dwi­ch, went to the ho­te­l, ya­d­da ya­d­da ya­d­da. The next day was our last day off. We had a ca­r. So we went to ... Fr­y's! We got a me­tric cra­pload of ga­dge­ts, in­clu­ding a tiny USB ba­tte­r­y, a po­we­red 7 port USB hu­b, be­ef je­rk­y, usb flash dri­ve­s, SD car­d­s, ca­ble­s, a sim car­d, a ca­me­ra, a Ne­xus 7, a ba­ck­pa­ck, and other stu­ff.

So­me of the afo­re­men­tio­ned ga­dge­tr­y.

After fi­gh­ting for two hours to get a pho­ne wi­th a da­ta plan, we sai­led off, gui­ded by google maps and EDGE. Yes EDGE. It wo­rke­d, thou­gh!

We had a ve­ry va­gue no­tion about hea­ding nor­th, in­to San Fran­cis­co, acro­ss the Gol­den Ga­te in­to who kno­ws whe­re (en­ded up being Na­pa Va­lle­y).

So, we starte­d, and found our­sel­ves in­to (I thi­nk) the Pre­si­dio Pa­rk, whi­ch is lo­ve­ly but the pic­tu­res are in Lu­cio­'s ca­me­ra, so it's up to him to post a li­nk to them in the co­m­men­ts. ema­de And of cour­se, the Gol­den Ga­te. Whi­ch is a ve­ry pho­to­ge­nic pie­ce of iro­n. So we got off the ca­r, at the pa­rking lo­t, and saw this:


Save­d! Ka-­chin­g!

A li­ttle wa­lk th­rou­gh a for­t...


And the­re it wa­s.


Of cour­se I took a ton of pic­tu­res. The rest is in the ga­lle­ry if you want to take a look.

So, we got a cup of ghas­tly co­ffee, got ba­ck in the car and set acro­ss the bri­dge.


Ye­s, I should strai­gh­ten it.

Then the­re are so­me hi­ll­s, and this cu­te tun­ne­l:


Ni­ce lan­ds­ca­pes, in a sur­pri­sin­gly ru­ral area 15 mi­nu­tes off the ci­ty.


Rea­lly ru­ra­l.

Then the in­fa­mous ho­me­ma­de je­rky in­ci­dent ha­ppe­ne­d.

So, ho­me­ma­de-­je­rk­y-­le­ss we con­ti­nued in­to the So­no­ma Va­lle­y, and got to the Vian­sa Wi­ne­ry whe­re we sto­pped for a tas­te (Lu­cio, I do­n't dri­nk. Al­so, I do­n't dri­ve so just a tas­te).


In your fa­ce, ins­ta­gra­m!

It's a rea­lly ni­ce pla­ce. Lo­ve­ly han­drail­s, too.


I mean, lo­ve­ly han­drail­s.


This part was clo­se­d, boo!


Lo­ve­ly views.

We got so­me sou­ve­nir­s, so­me pic­nic su­pplies (sa­la­mi, chees­e, oli­ve­s, Pe­lle­grino le­mo­na­de, cros­ti­ni), and started off agai­n. We for­got to re­set the GPS so ins­tead of going ba­ck, we kept fo­rward in­to Na­pa Va­lle­y. And we got to so­me vin­tne­r's mo­nu­ment whi­ch clo­ses at sun­se­t. Ri­ght on ti­me.


The ima­ges do­n't cap­tu­re the sca­le of the thin­g. Or the cold.

We got ba­ck via Oak­lan­d, at ni­ght whi­ch means the­re's no mo­re pic­tu­res. I was sho­cked to find out that not on­ly does ask.­com sti­ll exis­t, but that they pay for bi­ll­boar­ds wi­th ina­ne ques­tions in the­m.

The rest of the trip was ba­si­ca­lly wo­rk, wi­th din­ner ex­cur­sion­s. We had ame­ri­can (Chee­se­cake Fac­to­r­y), le­ba­ne­se (at tan­nou­ri­ne ok, sort of bo­rin­g), and .... mon­go­lian at Li­ttle Sheep Hot Pot.

At the mon­go­lian res­tau­rant no­ne thou­ght of brin­ging a ca­me­ra, so the on­ly pic­tu­re that exis­ts is taken wi­th a Ne­xus 7's fron­t-­fa­cing ca­me­ra. Sin­ce the Ne­xus has no ca­me­ra app, I had to take it using twi­tte­r. I am asha­me­d.

Ye­s, worst pic­tu­re eve­r.

So, what is tha­t? You get a pot of soup whi­ch is about 40% gar­li­c, 40% pe­ppe­r, 20% unk­no­wn things, and you che­ck bo­xes in a me­nu for things to dip and cook in the­m. Sin­ce we are ad­ven­tu­rous ner­d­s, we in­clu­de­d:

  • Ri­­ce and pig blood cakes (ta­s­­tes exa­c­­tly like a ri­­ce and mo­r­­ci­­lla san­­dwi­­ch)

  • Goose in­­tes­­ti­­nes (ta­s­­te like in­­tes­­ti­­nes)

  • As­­sorted mus­h­­rooms

  • As­­sorted mea­­tba­­lls (i­n­­clu­­ding be­­ef ten­­don mea­­tba­­lls (ta­s­­te like no­­­thi­n­­g))

  • As­­sorted sea­­food

  • As­­sorted be­­ef sli­­ces (looks cree­­p­­y, ta­s­­te as be­­e­­f)

and a ton of other stu­ff. The bad si­de of it is that after a whi­le it all has exac­tly the sa­me tas­te: ho­t, spi­cy sou­p. The good si­de: it's fun to ea­t, and fi­llin­g.

We had a last sho­pping spree a few da­ys la­te­r, (I got shir­ts, 24 pairs of so­cks, a sui­tca­se to put all the things I could not fit in the old one), and I started ba­ck alo­ne to Ar­gen­ti­na (Lu­cio sta­ye­d).

The re­turn trip was com­pli­ca­te­d.

  • I fo­r­­got the ca­­rr­­yon sui­­tca­­se in the ai­r­­li­­ne's desk, so I had to do the se­­cu­­ri­­ty che­­ck twi­­ce.

  • I di­d­n't know the che­­cke­­d-in sui­­tca­­se was hea­­ded to Bue­­­nos Ai­­res di­­re­c­­tl­­y, so I tried to che­­ck it out and ba­­ck in, and thou­­ght I had lost it. Of cou­r­se, not lo­s­­t, but I paid 5 do­­­llars for a cart I us­ed for 5 me­­te­r­s.

  • Da­­lla­s->E­­zei­­­za pla­­ne got de­­la­­yed be­­­cau­­se it was "too fu­­ll" (WA­­T?)

  • Fo­r­­got my pa­ss­­port in the ba­­ck­­seat po­­­cke­­t, so I had to run acro­­ss Ezei­­­za twi­­ce to get it ba­­ck, got so flus­­te­­red and ne­r­­vous my blood pres­­su­­re spike­­d. Not fun.

  • Got sto­­­pped at cus­­to­­­ms be­­­cau­­se I had not de­­cla­­red my la­p­­top on the way ou­­t. Lu­­cki­­l­­y, I ta­­lked my way out of it.

But got ba­ck, was fun, and ve­ry use­ful in the wo­rk-­re­lated bi­ts.

toyg / 2013-01-26 20:00:

SF is beautiful. I'd move there in heartbeat, if it weren't for the outrageous property prices and the overall ugliness of the Silicon Valley commute.

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