So I could write about three books regarding my day yesterday, which involved an eventual walk from the Marina District all the way up to the Golden Gate bridge. It was a very, very long and windy walk, bolstered by a nice lunch courtesy of the great, old little Marina Safeway, some vitamin water, and for some reason, loads and loads and loads of multiple packs of dogs being walked, ie running freely chasing balls on the beach, which always bolsters one's mood.
But okay, the bridge. I walked on and on, never thinking I'd reach it, because christ, it's fucking several miles away and it gets windy-er the closer you get. After a while I literally had to remove my small drop earrings due to the wind repeatedly slapping them against my face.
So then, there it is. Nice to report that this place never loses it's magic, and remains truly breathtaking.
To illustrate just how spellbinding it is, I got as nearly as close as I could, just a few feet from the water, and took this photo while sitting on a stone wall. Me, with my ass. I simply couldn't make myself move for literally like twenty minutes, so bewitching is the structure, so clear and blue and vast was the sky. I've loved the bridge since first sight, of course, because how can you not? It's a monument to arc deco mastery, and leading as it does to that naked, unspoiled mountain landscape behind it - it's just ... phew. Unspeakably beautiful. Period.
Another shot I took - how about a hillside of wild Cala Lillies growing in the shadow of this place? Unbelievable.
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It's a shame that I didn't get there first thing and do my walk across it, because the very nice man in the gift shop I visited afterwards, where I spent over 90 bucks on stuff, told me that the day before you couldn't see the bridge. I had this experience once before, when Dian and I were here 10 yrs ago, and we drove across the bridge - we were on it - and couldn't see it, so thick and unceasing was the fog.
So I totally lucked out in picking a day, in which I had originally intended just to visit the Palace of Fine Arts and not the bridge, but the whole walk took so long I never ended up there, except to spot it from the bus on the way home.
For the record, I had no hat, nor a coat, but was moving enough that I didn't get cold even though it was only about 65 all day and the wind was strong and continuous. I did however, get a sunburn on my face and the solar plexis area exposed by my V-neck tshirt.
Btw that's one thing I wanted to mention as far as the difference between west and east coast men. Guys on the east coast, as far as I know, do not wear V-neck sweaters or T-shirts. They wear only rounded collar ones. I really like V-necks on guys, and prefer them on myself, so this has been nice.
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I met three sets of people on the long walk to the bridge. First, a young couple from Mexico, when I I asked where, they said the middle of Mexico, who were at the beach near a bench I was having my Safeway lunch on. They had a bicycle built for two, and were struggling with a camera and I asked if they wanted me to take their picture, and they couldn't have been nicer, and spoke near perfect English. The guy offered to take my picture with my Iphone and I obliged, even though I didn't really want him to because I looked like absolute backwards-thru-the-hedges shit.
Later on down the beach was another couple, this time from Argentina, and they asked if I could take their picture. They were also really nice.
And, after the GG bridge visit, I was walking up the steep path leading from the beach to the bridge itself, in order to catch the number 28, to the number 22, to the 6 block walk home, when a very good looking blonde guy asked if I would mind taking his picture, and handed me his very expensive looking camera with a very long, big lens on it. I snapped a couple for him, after asking if he really wanted me to handle this camera, and then he proceeded to walk with me up the rest of the path and was very chatty. He was from Germany - I can't remember where - and spoke excellent English and was super nice, and we talked the whole way, about his trip, his impressions of American, etc.
Interestingly, one thing these people these people had in common, including the girl from Holland who I sat next to on the plane right up here, and the one from Australia waiting for the cable car the other day, was that all, like me, had either just flown up from LA, and/or were on their way after visiting SF to either Vegas and then the Grand Canyon, or both. So I guess this is what foreigners tend to do when visiting our west.
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The first bus stopped on Lombard, the Marina end of which is a lovely, old fashioned, stuck in mid-century-ish street with old pokey motels and neat stuff like Mel's Diner - a drive in place open, amazingly enough, since 1944.
Where I had a chocolate milkshake for sustenance - I actually referred to it at first as a "frappe", I was so tired.
I then walked up Steiner to Union, and grabbed the 22 bus. The ride back was long, steep, and extremely crowded, and to boot I was loaded down with a big shopping bag full of heavy goodies (3 mugs, a book, etc.) from the gift shop, and I ended up standing for a good 90% of the ride because it was so jammed, being around 5pm rush hour, and because, each time a seat would be freed up near the front of the bus where I was, at the next stop an old lady would get on and I'd feel compelled to give it up to her (and in fact this is the law, here.)
The bus turned away from Steiner and then went the rest of the way down Fillmore, which it turns out is such a cool street, particularly around California Street. I will definitely have to check this area out - loads of little shops and cafes, etc. Wonderful.
One can't help but think of Fillmore Auditorium and people like the Bill Graham and the Alman Brothers and Janis Joplin, etc., of course, when traveling down this road. I think the place is located down at Geary, but was too pooped to notice.
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Once home, I took a hot bath, and was in bed at 8:15 - it was still light out. I'm sure I was out by 8:30.
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