I made my first trip to mainland USA in February 2010, and I went pretty much from LA to New York, as in the song my favourite drag queens in Sydney used to lip-sync.
First stop, San Francisco. Wednesday, 17 February 2010.
I grew up on TV shows like the Streets of San Francisco with Jack Klugman in a mac and a very young Michael Douglas chasing crooks up and down the amazing mountainous streets in ludicrously large cars, dodging the fabulous street trolleys. When I was discovering my own sexual orientation I devoured Armistad Maupin’s Tales of the City series – the City being San Francisco, of course.
Immediately at the airport, decades of stereotypes were thrown out. The staff were courteous, polite and efficient. They were friendly without being obsequious or cloyingly fake. I got my train – called BART – to the central shopping district. It cost USD 8 for about a half hour ride. BART was grey, and a bit worn, but serviceable. I was amused by the driver singing the name of each stop. Immediately spat out of the underground station I took a while to get my bearings. A chap came up to me and offered to help find me lodgings (it comes with the territory when you use a back pack), and when I told him I was only looking for the street where my hotel was, he cheerfully told me. I had no problems giving him some change for his trouble. Politest beggar I’ve ever engaged with. There were a lot of beggars about. I’m guessing the effects of the economic recession.
Hotel dealt with. Bags dumped. Quick shower and change of clothing to go out into the sun! Yes. Sun. It wasn’t hot, but very pleasant. I didn’t have too many hours of daylight so I basically just wandered about getting my land legs back around the shopping area. I had dinner in a Chinese place nearby, and crashed.
Day Two: fog. San Francisco is prone to them, and this one was a good un as you can sense from the pictures I took. I walked Powell Street all the way up then down to Fisherman’s Wharf. On my approach through the outskirts of China Town (where the cable and street car signs are in Chinese) I could hear the fog horns and bark of sea lions coming from the great whiteness below me. I followed the barking to Wharf 39 to see the colony that rocked up after the 1989 earth quake and haven’t left.
I jumped on a tour in a bus made to look a bit like a tram. Our guide, the driver, was a funny guy who obviously loved San Francisco. We got chatting a bit and he kept telling me to go to Sausilito, just across the Golden Gate Bridge (which we couldn’t see at all when we got to the look out). The tour was the type of thing you can expect – a few fun facts, and a good way to get to know the layout of where you are. I was impressed by the way the Castro and Harvey Milk were talked about in the same breath as the “painted ladies” (a group of colourfully painted “Victorian” houses) and various action-adventure movies shot around the city.
After staying on the tour until we got back to Fisherman’s Wharf I grabbed a lunch of clam chowder (fantastic stuff) and then jumped on a converted fishing boat to do a quick tour of the Bay. The fog was starting to lift a bit so I could get some shots of the bridge, and actually see Alcatraz. I walked back to the hotel, stopping off for a coffee in a non-chain café in the Italian area and then meandering through China Town. Apparently, San Francisco’s China Town is now bigger than New York’s. (New York doesn’t agree with that observation.)
Day Three: grey skies, but no fog. I jumped on a 1938 Philadelphia tram carriage to Castro Street. San Francisco has managed to obtain a number of historic tram carriages from around the USA and the world. I never got to ride on a Melbourne tram, but I did see it trundling around in the distance. The normal fare is USD 2 per trip. The famous San Franciscan cable cars that go up and down the hills are more expensive than that, and are mostly a tourist thing now although regular people also use them. I rode one later in the day: fantastic! Anyway, even though it was early during the day and not many people were about, I’d rate the Castro as the gayest area I’ve ever experienced anywhere. Rainbow flags everywhere.
I caught a 1950s Kansas tram back to the wharves for lunch of clam chowder in a locally made sour dough bread bowl, washed down by some Napa Valley white wine. I meandered about the World War 2 vintage ships and boats, having a chat with a chap who knows England very well because he’s an ocean liner fan. Takes all types.
Day Four: Alcatraz. Modern ferry, modern ferry lines, old prison. Interesting place, but I never got any sense of it as a place of foreboding. The place is shrouded in myths and – rightly – the place tries to counter almost every one. E.g. the “bird man of Alcatraz” never kept his birds on this island. That was another prison. I did the audio tour on the recommendation of friends who visited last year, and I pass on that recommendation. I was amazed the tour came in Dutch, as well as the usual raft of languages, and I was tempted to use that one. I stuck with the original American English of both the guards and prisoners.
Day Five: Joined by a friend, we headed north, via the Golden Gate Bridge. We bypassed Sausilito, resisting the temptation to pop in. Instead, we went along the coast, winding our way up and down the hills. We stopped at a couple of cliff tops along the way. Technically whale-watching season, but the rain and clouds made it impossible. We did see some Elephant Seals on the beaches below. We then headed eastwards to Sonoma Valley, finding our hotel fairly easily.
Day Six: We had previously booked some bicycles for a wine tasting tour of Sonoma. We were greeted first by an incredible fog, but that burned off by the time we got on our way to our first winery. Cline's. We tasted a few, liking an unusual Rose, and a spicy Zinfandel. We decided to work our way through the other wineries on our list and come back later. Next stop was Cline's sister winery, which looked flashier. There we tasted some olive oils, and their wines. Not as nice as the first lot. Cline was originally French style grapes, and the other one was Italian. Normally I prefer Italian wines, but in this case the French won out. Afterwards we headed to a winery that specialised in sparkling wines. We had lunch there, enjoying the sun and view, and two rather good examples. We did two more wineries, buying a pretty decent port and light sparkling dessert wine from one, and then headed back to Cline to buy four bottles, two of the rose.
Day Seven: Back through San Francisco early and down south on the Pacific Highway route. Our first real stop was a red wood forest detour. Amazing trees, and these weren't the tallest or oldest examples. Unfortunately, it was raining a fair bit, which meant we couldn't go for better hikes. We kept heading south through some awesome scenery, stopping at a place in the Big Sur area of state parks.
Day Eight: After a good breakfast, we set off further south. The weather didn't let up, unfortunately, so we went into LA to get to our hotel near the airport. It was surreal driving along the huge roads in rain and mist thrown up by the other cars, buses and trucks and seeing the grey silhouettes of the palm trees. We stopped off at a Korean cafe to grab some teriyaki beef, which was fantastic stuff.
Day Nine: The Getty Center. What an amazing place, up on the hills with a fantastic view of the sprawl that is LA (but, no, not Hollywood). The Center itself is an art gallery, essentially, but fantastically designed so that it's light and airy, and you don't really notice the hundreds (thousands?) of other visitors. I enjoyed the photography exhibitions, and also both the permanent exhibition of Dutch Masters and a special exhibition of Ruebens' sketches. Friends and I spent the whole day there, and it's easily a place to just chill and enjoy.
First stop, San Francisco. Wednesday, 17 February 2010.
 |
| Golden Gate Bridge, San Francisco, shrouded in fog |
Immediately at the airport, decades of stereotypes were thrown out. The staff were courteous, polite and efficient. They were friendly without being obsequious or cloyingly fake. I got my train – called BART – to the central shopping district. It cost USD 8 for about a half hour ride. BART was grey, and a bit worn, but serviceable. I was amused by the driver singing the name of each stop. Immediately spat out of the underground station I took a while to get my bearings. A chap came up to me and offered to help find me lodgings (it comes with the territory when you use a back pack), and when I told him I was only looking for the street where my hotel was, he cheerfully told me. I had no problems giving him some change for his trouble. Politest beggar I’ve ever engaged with. There were a lot of beggars about. I’m guessing the effects of the economic recession.
Hotel dealt with. Bags dumped. Quick shower and change of clothing to go out into the sun! Yes. Sun. It wasn’t hot, but very pleasant. I didn’t have too many hours of daylight so I basically just wandered about getting my land legs back around the shopping area. I had dinner in a Chinese place nearby, and crashed.
 |
| Where Marilyn Monroe and Joe DiMaggio married |
I jumped on a tour in a bus made to look a bit like a tram. Our guide, the driver, was a funny guy who obviously loved San Francisco. We got chatting a bit and he kept telling me to go to Sausilito, just across the Golden Gate Bridge (which we couldn’t see at all when we got to the look out). The tour was the type of thing you can expect – a few fun facts, and a good way to get to know the layout of where you are. I was impressed by the way the Castro and Harvey Milk were talked about in the same breath as the “painted ladies” (a group of colourfully painted “Victorian” houses) and various action-adventure movies shot around the city.
 |
| Clam chowder |
Day Three: grey skies, but no fog. I jumped on a 1938 Philadelphia tram carriage to Castro Street. San Francisco has managed to obtain a number of historic tram carriages from around the USA and the world. I never got to ride on a Melbourne tram, but I did see it trundling around in the distance. The normal fare is USD 2 per trip. The famous San Franciscan cable cars that go up and down the hills are more expensive than that, and are mostly a tourist thing now although regular people also use them. I rode one later in the day: fantastic! Anyway, even though it was early during the day and not many people were about, I’d rate the Castro as the gayest area I’ve ever experienced anywhere. Rainbow flags everywhere.
I caught a 1950s Kansas tram back to the wharves for lunch of clam chowder in a locally made sour dough bread bowl, washed down by some Napa Valley white wine. I meandered about the World War 2 vintage ships and boats, having a chat with a chap who knows England very well because he’s an ocean liner fan. Takes all types.
 |
| Alcatraz... on the inside |
Day Five: Joined by a friend, we headed north, via the Golden Gate Bridge. We bypassed Sausilito, resisting the temptation to pop in. Instead, we went along the coast, winding our way up and down the hills. We stopped at a couple of cliff tops along the way. Technically whale-watching season, but the rain and clouds made it impossible. We did see some Elephant Seals on the beaches below. We then headed eastwards to Sonoma Valley, finding our hotel fairly easily.
Day Six: We had previously booked some bicycles for a wine tasting tour of Sonoma. We were greeted first by an incredible fog, but that burned off by the time we got on our way to our first winery. Cline's. We tasted a few, liking an unusual Rose, and a spicy Zinfandel. We decided to work our way through the other wineries on our list and come back later. Next stop was Cline's sister winery, which looked flashier. There we tasted some olive oils, and their wines. Not as nice as the first lot. Cline was originally French style grapes, and the other one was Italian. Normally I prefer Italian wines, but in this case the French won out. Afterwards we headed to a winery that specialised in sparkling wines. We had lunch there, enjoying the sun and view, and two rather good examples. We did two more wineries, buying a pretty decent port and light sparkling dessert wine from one, and then headed back to Cline to buy four bottles, two of the rose.
 |
| Red wood trees |
Day Seven: Back through San Francisco early and down south on the Pacific Highway route. Our first real stop was a red wood forest detour. Amazing trees, and these weren't the tallest or oldest examples. Unfortunately, it was raining a fair bit, which meant we couldn't go for better hikes. We kept heading south through some awesome scenery, stopping at a place in the Big Sur area of state parks.
Day Eight: After a good breakfast, we set off further south. The weather didn't let up, unfortunately, so we went into LA to get to our hotel near the airport. It was surreal driving along the huge roads in rain and mist thrown up by the other cars, buses and trucks and seeing the grey silhouettes of the palm trees. We stopped off at a Korean cafe to grab some teriyaki beef, which was fantastic stuff.
Day Nine: The Getty Center. What an amazing place, up on the hills with a fantastic view of the sprawl that is LA (but, no, not Hollywood). The Center itself is an art gallery, essentially, but fantastically designed so that it's light and airy, and you don't really notice the hundreds (thousands?) of other visitors. I enjoyed the photography exhibitions, and also both the permanent exhibition of Dutch Masters and a special exhibition of Ruebens' sketches. Friends and I spent the whole day there, and it's easily a place to just chill and enjoy.
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