yyt: rest day

It is moving day, a sizeable chunk of it will be the move from the condo into the Adagio. Not the move so much but the wait until the room is ready.

We had resolved that to-day we would give our legs a rest, and not try anything that would remotely resemble the walk yesterday – there would be no time.

After coffee at the Gallery Café, the wait until being too bored to wait any more we phone the hotel and find that our room is ready. Walk the baggage over and start making calculations. If we can check in in 15 minutes we can make it to the ferry to Sausalito.

It was close. Threw the stuff into the room and raced down Geary Street to Market - where the distance was farther than I thought - and into the terminal with two minutes to spare. This took a great deal of personal discipline on my part as when I walk I tend to slow down and gawk a bit and lose the reason we were trying to make time.

I like ferries – again the idea of demarcation – but also a time of enforced quiet, one cannot walk across the bay. My favourite area was taken – the bow – and was a bit disappointed by the boat – in some areas more advanced than I expected - a café – in others less so, no prow to stand on while heading down the bay toward the Golden Gate.

We sat in the back where I tried to act my age – and not like the camera toting – photographer’s vested monopodded backwards baseball capped man – and sit quietly. I couldn’t, with restraint I had to peak around the front to see the bridge – the bay bridge still looks more impressive to me – and the Pacific and tried to figure out which of all those homes on the opposite shore was Sausalito.

I can see no reason for Sausalito. A row of rampantly touristy shops, I couldn’t find a place where the locals would shop. Walked out of town toward the Golden Gate then back, tried to hire a machine to see the Muir Woods to no avail – I am sure the rental agent couldn’t imagine why anyone would want to leave Sausalito. Walked back down the main street checked the ferry times still an hour to go. Amused myself by looking at fig trees, walking the pedestrian lanes behind the shops, photographing a basketball court, yeah right future NBA stars from here, and keeping away from the main drag.

Here again I ran across the unhelpfulness of the locals, the surly woman at the information booth would give only an answer to the question asked so one had to plan.

Wandering the main street again, saw a bus that headed back to downtown San Fran so back to the information booth.

-the bus…
-15 minutes before the hour – it is $2.00.
and she foisted a piece of paper on me.
Not exactly the correct information but what she assumed I was asking and thanks to her the day was saved. She was giving me information to the bridge to walk across it. Why not.

Clueless people: two.
Waiting for the bus there were two Japanese tourists who sat in the middle of a bench for four. An experiment, Carol sits down and I sit on the edge. No movement on their part whatsoever.

Surly People: two.
The bus arrives we get on and do what the paper says – pay $2.00 – tell the driver where we want to get off and sit down. The bus climbs the hill out of town, stops, he mumbles something, doesn’t open the door, and sets off over the bridge.

That couldn’t have been our stop it was only two minutes out of town we could have walked that and nearly did. that short ride isn’t two dollars worth.

Waiting for the tolls on the San Francisco side I go up and ask where the stop is.
-Could it be when I announced it back on the other side.
-You mean when you cleared your throat? Sorry that I am a bit hard of hearing.
Another woman pipes up
- I’ve had him before he is mean.
We get down on the San Fran side hurling some obscenities at him as a parting shot and try to decide what to do.
Obviously walk the bridge twice back over to Marin County and then back to catch a bus.

We have been lucky for weather it was clear, and warm. The bridge wasn’t enshrouded in fog. Again the walk should have assuaged my boundary lust – and there was a tinge when I saw the Marin County line on it - but nope – more formal images came, tried to deal with the lengthening shadows, tried to ignore the people. Made a note how out of tune I was with the rest as reading the paper the info woman gave us, we were walking on the bay side which is supposed to be the more interesting side when all I wanted to do was walk on the ocean side.

Surly people: three
Trying to get a bus to Fort Mason for Greens, we notice the bus that is supposed to go there pull up but the destination sign is different. I try to ask
- Get on get on
We do so only to find out from a rider that, no, this doesn’t go to the Fort but way out of our way to Daly City. We get down.

The bus ride frustrated me as I goes along the main road to the bridge that has all those nice non chain motor inns of the past. Wanted to get down.

Greens was the saving grace, the server polite and funny, the food great. I pigged out sorry that I had only one stomach to give to the meal.

I cannot understand – however - how a restaurant can call itself vegetarian and use cheese with rennet. It seems that the challenge would come from finding a rennet less Parmesan to incorporate in the dishes that use it. My ears perk up when certain ingredients are mentioned the table beside us was having something with the cheese. This came up while I was asking for olive oil for the bread. She wanted to know if I were a vegan.
-Living in Wisconsin? Hardly.