Our first stop on this day was Lombard Street once again, so that Daniel could have a try at the serpentine curves. We agreed that living there would probably not be the greatest.
Continuing the obligatory SF sites, we headed down to Fisherman's Wharf and visited a collection of antique games that, if I am not mistaken, was featured in The Princess Diaries.
The funhouse mirror was the part we enjoyed the most, though I did play a "How attractive are you to the opposite sex?" game that cost 1¢. I was "hard to get." I congratulated Daniel.
We walked out onto Pier 39 and laughed at the incredibly pervasive advertising.
Sea lions lounged on floating pallets. They looked a lot like the ones in San Diego, but might have smelled a little bit worse.
Alcatraz, brought to you by Telemundo.
Next stop, Ghirardelli Square.
This is what their napkins looked like. If you were wondering.
This is what our chocolate espresso milkshake looked like.
The square was very cute. The stairs, unfortunately, were not accessible without an entry card.
We had alotted a lot of time for the morning's activities, but our mutual tolerance for touristy areas turned out to be remarkably low, and so we found ourselves poring over a map of the city for another destination. The Octagon House sounded sufficiently interesting, or at least boringly educational enough, to appeal to us, so we decided to find it.
As you can probably tell, the Octagon House is only open three days a month, and even then only for restricted hours, so it was clearly meant to be that it was open for us. The house is a Victorian-era relic furnished with pieces dating back to the Revolutionary Period, and it contains a collection of writings from most of the signers of the Declaration of Independence.
Next door was a cute little park that we explored for a bit.
Random cool house we saw while walking back to the car.
We really enjoyed the park, so we went in search of another. Lafayette Park was right down the street.
We walked around for a while, and as we were heading back toward the car, Daniel said, "Is that a merry-go-round? they don't have those anywhere anymore!"
He said they're usually considered a safety hazard now. We had to take advantage of the opportunity.
Daniel waving at the little baby, who was clearly enthralled with him.
I hopped on, too.
And there was a slide, of course.
Daniel was really excited until he came to a complete stop halfway down.
But he made the best of it.
And showed off his balancing skills. Also, his body separation skills.
Our helpful map informed us that the steepest street was just blocks away from the crookedest, so we made that our next destination.
Filbert Street had a serious tilt. They weren't lying.
We completed a leg of the 49-mile scenic drive that we hadn't driven before, and as we were driving through North Beach, I glanced City Lights Bookstore. It was actually the only place I had known I wanted to visit in San Francisco. I had only learned about it last semester when in American Writers we studied the Beat Generation. City Lights's owner, Lawrence Ferlinghetti, was a major figure in the movement.
City Lights was the first to publish Allen Ginsberg's collection of poems Howl. It was a pivotal piece in American literature. Daniel and I really read it while we sat on the second floor of City Lights. The bookstore had a nifty basement filled with shelves and shelves of titles as well.
Just outside, a flock of books flew between stoplights. Words had fallen from them onto the ground and were lying there as we walked over them.
Down the street we came across the National Shrine of St. Francis of Assisi. We peeked inside.
We found a sweet little sanctuary and stole a quick tour through the still air.
A verdant garden poured out of the space between two houses.
The street we parked on had a nice view of the Transamerica Pyramid.
Daniel setting up our self-portrait. We got really good at these during the trip.
Kind of.
For dinner, we found a Thai place in the AAA guide that was near the MOMA.
The restaurant was simple and elegant. I loved the airy wontons.
Mirrors make self-portraits so much easier. We had a little wait for the Museum of Modern Art, which holds special half-price Thursday nights.
We started at the recently opened sculpture garden on the roof of the museum. The view was startling, both inside and out. You could see all five scaling floors from the top of the stairs, and you could see down to the street below outside on the roof.
I enjoy this picture mostly because Daniel looks like an old sweater model.
The featured exhibit was devoted to William Kentridge, a versatile artist who utilizes film, oil paint, paper cutouts and tearing, collages, and projectors to present his vision of a stark world in black and white. It makes sense that he is from South Africa.
His most ingenious piece was a projection that looked distorted on the wide ground but perfectly in proportion on the reflective cylinder in the middle. It illustrated the way truth is altered from multiple points of view.
Daniel humored me as I traipsed around the museum.
This is his give-me-the-camera face.
We encountered a piece by Rene Magritte, a surrealist whose odd compositions delighted me in elementary school.
We also found a coffee pot by Picasso, which was a nice way to end the night.
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