We landed at SFO at 10:10am PST on a Saturday. After picking up our luggage, we headed up to the Airtram and then to the BART station to go downtown. $8.65 and thirty minutes later, we arrived at the Powell St. Station in Union Square. Our first view of downtown was of the beautiful buildings on Powell Street and the trolley. However, before we could enjoy any of it, we needed to eat something. We went into the first place we saw that wasn’t a fast food joint, which was Tad’s Steakhouse on Powell Street. It was a decent enough place, we ordered at the counter and sat down to eat some pretty good burgers before moving on. We walked to The HI San Francisco Downtown, which was very close to the train station, to check in. The helpful women at the front desk allowed us to check in early, and explained the amenities of the hostel, which include: daily activities and city tours and complimentary breakfast.
We went up to our private room (with en suite bath) to freshen up. The room was pretty large and cutely decorated. We settled in and changed clothes before heading out to explore the city. My sister had recommended that we go to City Lights Bookstore, so we walked over to check it out. We walked through Union Square, which was festively decorated with a Christmas Tree and skating rink. We had to walk through a tunnel to get to Chinatown, which made me think of the tunnel scene from “The Stand” and I rushed us through it. We fought our way through the crowds and found City Lights on Jack Kerouac Alley, right where it should be. It featured three glorious floors of books, and a good selection of Beat Generation works. Naturally, we browsed for a while, taking our time on each floor. Outside, Kerouac Alley was very colorful, with murals on the walls and quotes etched in gold on the cobblestones. Of course there was one from the man himself – “The air was soft, the stars so fine, the promise of every cobbled alley so great…”.
We walked back through Chinatown and took in the sights and smells. Women haggling over cabbage, shopkeepers trying to lure us into their stores, fireworks going off in the street, it was a pretty authentic scene. That night we met my cousin, Katie and her fiancé, James for dinner in the Mission District. Mike and I got over there early so we could check out the neighborhood. We picked up a coffee from Muddy Waters
Coffee House and popped into some of the stores in the area. There were a lot of really cute and unique stores along Valencia Street. Our favorites were Needles and Pens, Wallflower Vintage and Wonderland Gallery. The stores were interspersed with a diverse set of restaurants and cafes. My first choice for dinner was Lolo’s, a tapas restaurant, but there was an hour and a half wait, so we decided to moved on. We stopped at La Taza (a cute cafe with lighter fare) for a beer and to get our dinner plans straight. Katie wanted to take us somewhere memorable, and once that was settled, she certainly delivered. We walked to The Crafty Fox, and I am so happy that’s where we ended up. It is a brilliant gastropub located on Mission Street, and has a bar up front and long shared tables in the back. We staked out an area at the end of one, and went up to the bar to order. They had an excellent selection of craft beer and the food was amazing. Mike and I split the salmon skewers and the wild boar sausage, both of which we loved, and I had the New Kids on the Hops (Altamont Beer Works) beer, which complimented our food choices wonderfully. Plus, the company and conversation made the evening even better, of course. Katie and James proved once again to be fantastic hosts (they were also nice enough to open up their home to me in Korea).
We all took the subway to our respective homes, us going back to Union Square and Katie and James going farther down the line, to Berkeley. Once we were off the train, Mike and I decided to stop for one more drink at a bar his coworker recommended: Golden Gate Tap Room. We got our hands stamped at the door and walked up a flight of stairs to the bar. It was more or less a beercade, except unlike some of the ones in Chicago, you had to pay for the games. We each had a beer and played a couple games of Mrs. Pacman before feeling too old for the young crowd and retiring for the night. Back at the hostel, we fell asleep as soon as our heads hit the pillows.
To Be Continued…
Oh, Miami… I wish I would have done right by you. I briefly mentioned in a previous blog (
When I arrived at the hotel, I was hungry from a day full of travel, so I hunkered down in the hotel room and ordered room service for dinner. I got coconut shrimp and fries, which I enjoyed in my PJs from the comfort of the queen-sized bed in my room. When I finished the food, I was instructed to place the tray outside the door, where it would be picked up. I took the tray outside, while the door to my room abruptly closed behind me, locking me out. I had to walk to the front desk for a new key in my teeny tiny pajama shorts and tank top, my face flushed with embarrassment. The front desk staff were nice enough to act like it happened all the time, but I scurried back to my room with my head down. Once I was in, I decided to call it a night.
The next day, I woke up early and enjoyed a cup of coffee out on the pool deck. It was shaping up to be a beautiful day, and I was quick to get into my swimsuit and sit out on the beach. What I was most wanting from this vacation was to lay out in the sun, read, and sip cocktails. I certainly accomplished that, but not much else. Also on the first day in Miami, I did indeed take the bus to Miami Beach, where I walked around aimlessly for a couple of hours.
and salsa that were on the table. Right off the bat, I started coughing in full force due to swallowing a large bit of chip whole. My eyes were watering, my hands had the table in a death grip, and I could see the waiter in my peripheral, deciding whether or not I needed the Heimlich. Once I got myself under control, my eyes continued to water as I ate my meal. I desperately hoped that no one around me thought I was some sad girl eating dinner by herself, but could sense some pity coming at me. Needless to say, I paid my bill and got out of there as soon as I finished eating (food first, always). I went off in search of a bar to prove to the Miami citizens that I knew how to behave properly in public.
In any case, the next day I did not meet up with my new casual acquaintance. I did, however, get drunk on the beach, on Sex on The Beaches no less. In the afternoon, I attempted to find a paddle board rental joint that I had 
heard about from the concierge. I didn’t find it, in fact, I got a little lost and wound up just going back to the hotel instead of asking for help or hailing a cab. My misadventure and the fact that my big solo vacation was shaping up to be a little uneventful caused me to have a little pity party in my hotel room.
I got it together eventually, and decided to treat myself to a lobster dinner in the hotel restaurant, Kitchen 305. As I was sat at my table for one, the waitress came over to take my drink and promptly said “aww, honey is it just you tonight?” Umm, yes, yes it is, and if your goal was to make me order three more drinks than I was going to, mission accomplished. I ordered my lobster dinner, which also came with a salad and bread and perhaps a side dish.
When the lobster arrived, I stared at it dumbfounded. It was a whole lobster, which I had never experience before. Lobster tail, yes. Lobster roll, yes. A whole lobster…what the heck do you do with it? I took a picture of it and sent it to my dad, an avid seafood lover, with this message “HELP! I don’t know what to do with this! Which part am I supposed to eat?” I cut into the top of the lobster and green goo flowed out. I turned my plate around and cut into the tail. I ate what little meat I could scavenge from the little guy and then filled up on bread. I left a big tip and walked out of the restaurant feeling a little bit defeated. It was my last night in Miami, and I spent the rest of it drinking PBR and brooding by myself on the pool deck.
The next morning, I woke up early to catch the sunrise. I walked along the beach, taking pictures, and I noticed what seemed to be ocean wildlife washed up all along the shore. The majority of the creatures looked like clear, blue empanadas with tentacles. One of the men cleaning up the shore line in front of the hotel told me not to touch them, they were Portuguese Man of War. They were closing the beaches to swimmers that day due to an overabundance of these little death empanadas. That was my queue to head back to Chicago. I took another airport shuttle back to Miami International Airport, where I was delayed for three hours before finally making it back home.
I was a little bit ashamed of this trip for a while afterwards. I felt like I should have made more out of this trip, should have explored more, should have ventured out more fearlessly. Retelling the story now, I see that a big part of the problem was attitude. I was too easily overcome by any obstacle that I faced. Now I know better. But, I still feel a little bit of a pull back to Miami, to redeem myself for my previous lackluster visit.
rebeccawanderlusting 