Monday in San Francisco - May 6, 2013
Photos for Monday (except the last two) - I've used small versions of some in this post. You can visit the link for the originals.
On Monday, I got up fairly early because I wanted to enjoy my last day in San Francisco and try to shake off the sadness of the "I'm going home" vibe. My husband Jason and I used to get that on Sundays when he lived in Buffalo and we visited across the border. Sundays were almost always quiet and we dreaded the separation. Here I was, knowing I was going back to Kitchener the next day and already feeling dread. I shook it off and got outside.
I took the subway to Forest Hills. This was a pretty ritzy area we had driven through earlier in the week. I wanted to take some photos of the landscaping and florals of this fantastic homes.
What I didn't think about was the hills. I was hugging and puffing up, up and up with only a little bit of down for about an hour, feeling much like I had on the first day, climbing back up the hill from Sutro Baths. I did get some lovely shots but I realized I was no longer enjoying the actual walk. If I was going to meet Steve later that afternoon, if he was available, I needed to get back to the hotel, clean up and rest a bit.
Walking to the nearest downhill point out of the neighbourhood to a bus stop (thank you Google maps!), a friendly bus driver pointed me in the right direction to get a bus back to the station. As I settled into a subway seat, the station address system started warning passengers: "The SFPD have been called to Powell Station. A commuter is too close to the yellow line at the edge of the platform and refuses to move." I heard that at every station. I made it back to the Civic Centre station, warning Steve as I recovered cell service that there might be a problem.
As I made myself comfortable, Steve messaged to tell me that the subway system was shut down. I never did hear what happened, whether it was shut because of the security problem or the reality of a jumper. I put that out of my mind after hoping for the best. Steve arrived and we had a wonderful final afternoon together. We weren't sure it was going to be final as it was decided later that Jason would take me to the airport. Since I hadn't known if I'd see him at all for the rest of my stay, I was glad for the time we had.
A few hours later, I was meeting Jason and we started our tour of the Old Mint with a constant stream of dates and facts and interesting things. I wish I could remember it all. You can read some of it here. That's brief compared to the knowledge that Jason had of the building.
Being underground reminded me of going to the Court House in St. John's, Newfoundland when I was in grade one. There were thick walls with thick doors having lots of complex mechanisms to lock them, and I was afraid to go into one. Maybe that fear came afterward, since part of my younger self's tour included having one of the doors closed ever so briefly while inside. I didn't say a word but I was freaking out inside as the door clanged home. Jason did not do that to me and he didn't know I was tamping down the slightest fear. I was fascinated by everything he was telling me and quickly forgot my childhood memory.
We explored the vaults, talked about how the building was rendered relatively earthquake-proof due to construction foresight. The building only moved two inches in one direction in the 1906 quake, and most of it survived the fire that followed. It was rendered mostly theft-proof, except for the janitor who killed rats and stole coins out of the building by stuffing their dead bodies. He showed me empty vaultss with steel walls stained with the imprints of silver coins through fabric bags against the walls. In one room the stains were reddish-brown and in another they were black. I'm not sure why. There was a massive machine in one room that can't be removed, but wasn't originally part of the Mint. It was used for separating gold from the rocks it crushed (?). In the spots where doors and windows had been bricked up to create separate vaults and on the outer walls of the building, there was a special stability pattern in the bricks repeating in four lines rather than the standard seven. Almost everything was metal underneath. Even if it looked like wood or plaster, it was metal.
When we had reached the courtyard and started the history there, Jason suddenly stopped in mid-sentence having briefly lost his train of tour guide thought in the midst of all of the events he had been describing. He turned to me.
Jason: "I've forgotten where I was. What was I last talking about?"
Me: "They've been coming so fast I don't have a clue. I have been paying attention to you though."
I had. I'd been watching this tall, bearded and very intelligent man. I was also listening to him but I fully admit my temporary distractions during the tour. He laughed and hugged me and we moved on. The last room we visited included a model of Coit Tower which I did not visit. The name was vaguely familiar. I think I read of it in Armistead Maupin's books. What fascinated us both was an old map of San Francisco. It showed the land that was being reclaimed from swamp and every lot in the city as it existed or was planned at the time. We spent some time exploring that, trying to figure out why the map had sections coloured green, and what the large numeral represented for certain sections, but there was no legend or key (or dates?). It might have been in one of the two missing corners.
From here we collected Steve downstairs and headed to Westfield San Francisco Centre. This indoor shopping centre has a fabulous dome at it's apex. It was reconstructed in place when the building was remodeled.
We met albear_garni (Albert) and his partner David at Cupola Pizzeria. The food was great if the service was not. The conversation and the company were wonderful. At one point, Steve said something that made me blush a very deep red and rendered me temporarily speechless in front of these people I had just met. Jason made my face even hotter by pointing out that I was blushing. I am blushing now, thinking about it as I write this. It was fun.
Dinner ended with photographs taken and goodbye hugs all around for Albert and David. They had given me a gift of a selection of organic gluten and salt-free spices. I need to get out my cooking pots and start using them soon.
Steve drove me back to the hotel. Jason was waiting outside, having taken transit. I gave Steve a long and somewhat emotional goodnight knowing I wouldn't see him the next day as I left. Jason agreed to pick me up in the morning and we said our own temporary goodbyes, in a long, unhurried hug. I stood at the entrance to the hotel until they pulled away, waving at me.
It was 9:00PM. Back in my room, I packed up my stuff as quickly as possible, laying out clothes for the next day and arranging what needed to be used in the morning and packed last. I tried to get in contact with one last person who had hoped to see me, but it was too late to meet him for an evening coffee. Laying on the bed, I felt a heaviness wash over me, and with it came all the memories of my time in San Francisco, the dread of my vacation ending and the next day's long travel. I did nothing else that night except try to sleep. It didn't come easily.
On Monday, I got up fairly early because I wanted to enjoy my last day in San Francisco and try to shake off the sadness of the "I'm going home" vibe. My husband Jason and I used to get that on Sundays when he lived in Buffalo and we visited across the border. Sundays were almost always quiet and we dreaded the separation. Here I was, knowing I was going back to Kitchener the next day and already feeling dread. I shook it off and got outside.
I took the subway to Forest Hills. This was a pretty ritzy area we had driven through earlier in the week. I wanted to take some photos of the landscaping and florals of this fantastic homes.
What I didn't think about was the hills. I was hugging and puffing up, up and up with only a little bit of down for about an hour, feeling much like I had on the first day, climbing back up the hill from Sutro Baths. I did get some lovely shots but I realized I was no longer enjoying the actual walk. If I was going to meet Steve later that afternoon, if he was available, I needed to get back to the hotel, clean up and rest a bit.
Walking to the nearest downhill point out of the neighbourhood to a bus stop (thank you Google maps!), a friendly bus driver pointed me in the right direction to get a bus back to the station. As I settled into a subway seat, the station address system started warning passengers: "The SFPD have been called to Powell Station. A commuter is too close to the yellow line at the edge of the platform and refuses to move." I heard that at every station. I made it back to the Civic Centre station, warning Steve as I recovered cell service that there might be a problem.
As I made myself comfortable, Steve messaged to tell me that the subway system was shut down. I never did hear what happened, whether it was shut because of the security problem or the reality of a jumper. I put that out of my mind after hoping for the best. Steve arrived and we had a wonderful final afternoon together. We weren't sure it was going to be final as it was decided later that Jason would take me to the airport. Since I hadn't known if I'd see him at all for the rest of my stay, I was glad for the time we had.
A few hours later, I was meeting Jason and we started our tour of the Old Mint with a constant stream of dates and facts and interesting things. I wish I could remember it all. You can read some of it here. That's brief compared to the knowledge that Jason had of the building.
Being underground reminded me of going to the Court House in St. John's, Newfoundland when I was in grade one. There were thick walls with thick doors having lots of complex mechanisms to lock them, and I was afraid to go into one. Maybe that fear came afterward, since part of my younger self's tour included having one of the doors closed ever so briefly while inside. I didn't say a word but I was freaking out inside as the door clanged home. Jason did not do that to me and he didn't know I was tamping down the slightest fear. I was fascinated by everything he was telling me and quickly forgot my childhood memory.
We explored the vaults, talked about how the building was rendered relatively earthquake-proof due to construction foresight. The building only moved two inches in one direction in the 1906 quake, and most of it survived the fire that followed. It was rendered mostly theft-proof, except for the janitor who killed rats and stole coins out of the building by stuffing their dead bodies. He showed me empty vaultss with steel walls stained with the imprints of silver coins through fabric bags against the walls. In one room the stains were reddish-brown and in another they were black. I'm not sure why. There was a massive machine in one room that can't be removed, but wasn't originally part of the Mint. It was used for separating gold from the rocks it crushed (?). In the spots where doors and windows had been bricked up to create separate vaults and on the outer walls of the building, there was a special stability pattern in the bricks repeating in four lines rather than the standard seven. Almost everything was metal underneath. Even if it looked like wood or plaster, it was metal.
When we had reached the courtyard and started the history there, Jason suddenly stopped in mid-sentence having briefly lost his train of tour guide thought in the midst of all of the events he had been describing. He turned to me.
Jason: "I've forgotten where I was. What was I last talking about?"
Me: "They've been coming so fast I don't have a clue. I have been paying attention to you though."
I had. I'd been watching this tall, bearded and very intelligent man. I was also listening to him but I fully admit my temporary distractions during the tour. He laughed and hugged me and we moved on. The last room we visited included a model of Coit Tower which I did not visit. The name was vaguely familiar. I think I read of it in Armistead Maupin's books. What fascinated us both was an old map of San Francisco. It showed the land that was being reclaimed from swamp and every lot in the city as it existed or was planned at the time. We spent some time exploring that, trying to figure out why the map had sections coloured green, and what the large numeral represented for certain sections, but there was no legend or key (or dates?). It might have been in one of the two missing corners.
From here we collected Steve downstairs and headed to Westfield San Francisco Centre. This indoor shopping centre has a fabulous dome at it's apex. It was reconstructed in place when the building was remodeled.
We met albear_garni (Albert) and his partner David at Cupola Pizzeria. The food was great if the service was not. The conversation and the company were wonderful. At one point, Steve said something that made me blush a very deep red and rendered me temporarily speechless in front of these people I had just met. Jason made my face even hotter by pointing out that I was blushing. I am blushing now, thinking about it as I write this. It was fun.
Dinner ended with photographs taken and goodbye hugs all around for Albert and David. They had given me a gift of a selection of organic gluten and salt-free spices. I need to get out my cooking pots and start using them soon.
Steve drove me back to the hotel. Jason was waiting outside, having taken transit. I gave Steve a long and somewhat emotional goodnight knowing I wouldn't see him the next day as I left. Jason agreed to pick me up in the morning and we said our own temporary goodbyes, in a long, unhurried hug. I stood at the entrance to the hotel until they pulled away, waving at me.
It was 9:00PM. Back in my room, I packed up my stuff as quickly as possible, laying out clothes for the next day and arranging what needed to be used in the morning and packed last. I tried to get in contact with one last person who had hoped to see me, but it was too late to meet him for an evening coffee. Laying on the bed, I felt a heaviness wash over me, and with it came all the memories of my time in San Francisco, the dread of my vacation ending and the next day's long travel. I did nothing else that night except try to sleep. It didn't come easily.