San Fran-da-bi-do-si (For Rob Archibald)

So I made it to San Francisco on Saturday afternoon and bloomin' hell, what a shock to the system that was! Imagine being a tourist in London and the first station you step out of with your luggage is Picadilly Circus - that's what it was like rocking up at Powell St. Station. Apparantly, I had booked a hostel in the most instense part of the city.

San Fran-CRAZY would have been a more fitting title for this blog. Now, I'm from London and I'd like to think that my tolerance of crowdedness and sketchy characters is quite high, but if you're looking for anyone who may have broken out of a mental institution, they are probably over here.

I didn't walk too far for something to eat as I was starving, tired and unsure about my navigation. I spoke to a Scottish family who were doing the same thing, bless 'em. It was dark by the time I'd finished my deep fried shrimp and so I thought I'd have a little bit of a nosey around the block to see what was on my doorstep. I ended up on what I've named 'crackhead corner' - it doesn't really need explaining. There was one sane person to eight dodgy, so I quickened my pace and very promptly aimed for my hostel. Note to self: unless chaperoned, don't wander around San Francisco at night!

Sunday morning I caught the cable car (what a treat that was...does my sarcasm translate?) down to Fisherman's Wharf, it's very pretty. This was the best I could get of the Golden Gate Bridge:

Can you see it there, way over yonder? Under all that fog...


So yes, I sat at the dock of the bay. Although beautiful and refreshing to sit by the sea, I couldn't get the Navajo Nation out of my head. I was missing the Res big time. I felt like I had left a part of me back in Arizona. But I concluded that I had just gotten really comfortable there and that it would take me a couple of days to get to the same feeling in San Francisco. And if I didn't, that would be ok, because there are plenty more wonderful places for me to see.

I strolled through Pier 39 which is just an excuse for small businesses to sell ridiculousness to tourists. I actually spotted a shop for left-handed people. As far as I could see, they mainly sold mugs...now call me mad, but couldn't you just, oh I don't know, turn the mug around?!

I laughed to myself numerous times at the absolute variety of people in this city. There was a man sat by the pier with his pet iguana - an actual iguana with a harness, leash and everything. There is also a guy that people have nicknamed 'the Bushman' because he sits there behind two bits of foliage that he holds up over his face, he then jumps out at unsuspecting victims. Some people watch him all day. My favourite 'wired to the moon' individual has to be this one man who stands on the corner near my hostel wearing a 90's tie-dye t-shirt and bermuda shorts. He has an 80's walkman and basically sings (or rather howls) to whatever indecipherable music he is listening to. Sometimes, he'll even boogie a little bit.

Aside from thinking that I should walk around with a tranquilizer dart and a butterfly net, I find the transportation confusing (there are about seven different modes) and the prices of things to be unecessarily high. But on the plus side, I've met some fantastic people in my hostel and one girl in particular who is in my dorm. Her name is Leah and she is originally from New York. We bonded over a cigarette (always the way) and discovered that we have massive amounts in common. Sisters from other misters, as we call it. So when she proposed that we go sightseeing together on Monday, I was more than happy about the idea. I had someone to brave the crazy with and appease my loneliness a little. Because in a city where I often hear my native accent, I've never felt more alien.