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So I have guests, sort of. I met them at the airport yesterday, and we spent most of the day wandering up and down the cable car line above Market, near their hotel. I borrowed one of those nice map books for them to borrow, and they admired my cassock which was terribly pleasing.
I had plotted out several ways to get from SFO to their hotel near Union Square, including the free method of sneaking onto the shuttle for another hotel a few blocks away. However, it was decided that 'we *are* on holiday' and thus a cab was hired.
We wandered down the line, and I marvelled that somebody said 'excuse me' as they slipped past (not that I felt anybody else needed to, given the usual state of affairs, but that it was nice that somebody did) just before a fellow with a charming accent asked me if I knew where Rasputin's was. I admitted as the only one I knew of was in Berkeley, on Telegraph, and also admitted that this was less than helpful. So of course, a block further down the road we ran into the storefront. And of course we had to go in and poke around.
Continuing our stroll, I showed them 'the place where people watch the cable car turn around' and verified that I could find the Powell Street Station for later Alcatrazal reference.
More wandering, and flumping in the hotel room (it was cozy) and deciding we weren't likely to see the Exploratorium or the Golden Gate Bridge or pretty much anything we'd half-heartedly considered doing and instead the 'we *are* on holiday' theme pushed us towards relaxing in the room, breaking the television and chatting idly. My favourite.
Finally we lurched up the street to a place called Uncle Vito's where we were served far too much lovely Italian food. I was boring and just wanted garlicky bread and crunchy salad and spaghettini with meatballs. But there were lovely mushroom cheese pesto dishes, and creamy chicken fettucini and it was very nice.
Then there was excessive food/carb coma and I sprawled on the bed until I could walk to the train station. It was nice to not have made any explosive mistakes during my brief and undemanding role as San Francisco tour guide, but it was also nice to finally be home again.
Especially since I was to be SoBa tourguide the next day. (:
Guests arrived, I showed off my lovely house (but not my lovely car, alas) and I discovered they were not yet starving. This would never do, as I was dragging them to Thai City where I would order many dishes and make them eat a little of each of them.
As a display of her amazing genius, one of my lovely guests suggested that we make a trip to The Winchester Mansion while we waited for our porrige to cool. We took the simple tour, as a bet that this would be enough walking for them. And it was, but it was a lovely lovely wonderful walk. It was my first time in the house, and it reminded me how much I adored Victorian architecture and I made a note to come back and tour the gardens as well soon.
And then, o yes my brothers, we were indeed hungry. Alas, by then it was so late that TC was closed until dinner time, and so I showed them The Mighty Frye's whose legend had preceeded all the way to that cloudy rainy land and l2g was keen to view. So we went to CowBoy Frye's and there was much ooing and ahing until the restaurant opened.
And so then there was Thom Kha Gai and Satay and Nur Tod and Pad Thai and Panang Ped (which was not Ped Yang but was still very nice and I cannot say a word against it) and calamari in garlic which was a bit salty but everything else got rave reviews.
And I made the mistake of saying 'Gamescape isn't far away. Give me five minutes to browse the used books?' And the bastards said 'yes'. I blame them. Everybody seems to have discovered a treasure. I found a stack of 7th Sea books (I'm not playing it but I love the theme and the art is gorgeous) and I bought... lord. Seven of them. For $40, which is less than two of them would have cost new. The fellow at the counter said they'd come in yesterday after closing, and were priced to go. I said 'here they go'.
9th Moon requested a cushy place to sit, and I suggested our ass-eating couch. We crashed there for a while, as I made arrangements for a social dinner at Ariake.
9th Moon made the mistake of saying she had never gotten 'into' comics, and so I fetched down Strangers in Paradise and The Chained Coffin. Pretty disparate subject matter. I asked her to read the first couple of pages of each so I could get her reaction. When she failed to stop after the 'first couple of pages' I felt smug. When we tried to leave and she cried 'But I'm still *reading*....' I knew I had won at least a minor victory.
And here, good friends, is the only point where my sherpa skills let me down this week. It was dark, and we ducked into a left turn lane for Olive instead of El Camino, which was still a goodly bit up the road. I said 'screw it, we'll just take Olive over to Wolfe' before discovering that Olive disappears in a winding little suburban street plot and Wolfe is waaaaay further over than I thought it was and we were late and that was the worst thing to happen so far and in retrospect I'm terribly pleased.
At Ariake we met the three queens of Avalon and there was lots of social conversation, which was just what I wanted. Tony was suspiciously absent, thus foiling my attempts to prove or disprove the theory that he and l2g are in fact both merely aliases of Superman. And there was ColdStone, which also went over well. And more chatting over ice cream.
Then, after missing the chance for the guests to meet the wonderful housemate there was a quick trip home to give 9th Moon her country fix by exposing her to subversive artists like Richard Shindell and Dar Williams who was compared to... the Cranberries? In either case, I was smug again and then sent them on their merry way back up to the City.
Because to-morrow is Alcatraz day!
I had plotted out several ways to get from SFO to their hotel near Union Square, including the free method of sneaking onto the shuttle for another hotel a few blocks away. However, it was decided that 'we *are* on holiday' and thus a cab was hired.
We wandered down the line, and I marvelled that somebody said 'excuse me' as they slipped past (not that I felt anybody else needed to, given the usual state of affairs, but that it was nice that somebody did) just before a fellow with a charming accent asked me if I knew where Rasputin's was. I admitted as the only one I knew of was in Berkeley, on Telegraph, and also admitted that this was less than helpful. So of course, a block further down the road we ran into the storefront. And of course we had to go in and poke around.
Continuing our stroll, I showed them 'the place where people watch the cable car turn around' and verified that I could find the Powell Street Station for later Alcatrazal reference.
More wandering, and flumping in the hotel room (it was cozy) and deciding we weren't likely to see the Exploratorium or the Golden Gate Bridge or pretty much anything we'd half-heartedly considered doing and instead the 'we *are* on holiday' theme pushed us towards relaxing in the room, breaking the television and chatting idly. My favourite.
Finally we lurched up the street to a place called Uncle Vito's where we were served far too much lovely Italian food. I was boring and just wanted garlicky bread and crunchy salad and spaghettini with meatballs. But there were lovely mushroom cheese pesto dishes, and creamy chicken fettucini and it was very nice.
Then there was excessive food/carb coma and I sprawled on the bed until I could walk to the train station. It was nice to not have made any explosive mistakes during my brief and undemanding role as San Francisco tour guide, but it was also nice to finally be home again.
Especially since I was to be SoBa tourguide the next day. (:
Guests arrived, I showed off my lovely house (but not my lovely car, alas) and I discovered they were not yet starving. This would never do, as I was dragging them to Thai City where I would order many dishes and make them eat a little of each of them.
As a display of her amazing genius, one of my lovely guests suggested that we make a trip to The Winchester Mansion while we waited for our porrige to cool. We took the simple tour, as a bet that this would be enough walking for them. And it was, but it was a lovely lovely wonderful walk. It was my first time in the house, and it reminded me how much I adored Victorian architecture and I made a note to come back and tour the gardens as well soon.
And then, o yes my brothers, we were indeed hungry. Alas, by then it was so late that TC was closed until dinner time, and so I showed them The Mighty Frye's whose legend had preceeded all the way to that cloudy rainy land and l2g was keen to view. So we went to CowBoy Frye's and there was much ooing and ahing until the restaurant opened.
And so then there was Thom Kha Gai and Satay and Nur Tod and Pad Thai and Panang Ped (which was not Ped Yang but was still very nice and I cannot say a word against it) and calamari in garlic which was a bit salty but everything else got rave reviews.
And I made the mistake of saying 'Gamescape isn't far away. Give me five minutes to browse the used books?' And the bastards said 'yes'. I blame them. Everybody seems to have discovered a treasure. I found a stack of 7th Sea books (I'm not playing it but I love the theme and the art is gorgeous) and I bought... lord. Seven of them. For $40, which is less than two of them would have cost new. The fellow at the counter said they'd come in yesterday after closing, and were priced to go. I said 'here they go'.
9th Moon requested a cushy place to sit, and I suggested our ass-eating couch. We crashed there for a while, as I made arrangements for a social dinner at Ariake.
9th Moon made the mistake of saying she had never gotten 'into' comics, and so I fetched down Strangers in Paradise and The Chained Coffin. Pretty disparate subject matter. I asked her to read the first couple of pages of each so I could get her reaction. When she failed to stop after the 'first couple of pages' I felt smug. When we tried to leave and she cried 'But I'm still *reading*....' I knew I had won at least a minor victory.
And here, good friends, is the only point where my sherpa skills let me down this week. It was dark, and we ducked into a left turn lane for Olive instead of El Camino, which was still a goodly bit up the road. I said 'screw it, we'll just take Olive over to Wolfe' before discovering that Olive disappears in a winding little suburban street plot and Wolfe is waaaaay further over than I thought it was and we were late and that was the worst thing to happen so far and in retrospect I'm terribly pleased.
At Ariake we met the three queens of Avalon and there was lots of social conversation, which was just what I wanted. Tony was suspiciously absent, thus foiling my attempts to prove or disprove the theory that he and l2g are in fact both merely aliases of Superman. And there was ColdStone, which also went over well. And more chatting over ice cream.
Then, after missing the chance for the guests to meet the wonderful housemate there was a quick trip home to give 9th Moon her country fix by exposing her to subversive artists like Richard Shindell and Dar Williams who was compared to... the Cranberries? In either case, I was smug again and then sent them on their merry way back up to the City.
Because to-morrow is Alcatraz day!