A Weekend Getaway to San Francisco
A road trip is timeless in the presence of good company.
San Francisco, home to the famous Golden State Bridge, and a city unique to all others with its notoriously steep hills, cable cars, and blend of natural and urban, is full of surprises around every corner. I am no foreigner to this foggy metropolis, but it was my first visit in many years and I came to see the city in a new light, quite literally, with uncharacteristically sunny and clear skies that made each day feel new and exciting. The only goal for this trip: see and experience as much as possible in just a couple short days.
After a six hour drive, it was dark by the time Ben and I checked in at Founder’s Hotel Carlton located in Nob Hill. As much as sleep beckoned, dinner was needed so we dined close by at Ben’s Thai, the warm and comforting spices of curry and noodles filling us. Despite the late hours, our spirits had been rejuvenated, so a detour was made to a lowkey bar across the hotel. Our whispers of excitement around being in an unfamiliar city, as well as the exhaustion of a long drive, lulled us back to the hotel where sleep found us swiftly and quickly.
The first full day would take us all along the perimeters of the city, but first, an early morning run took us down the hills of San Francisco, across a flat stretch through the financial district, and to the Ferry Building. We didn’t stay long as we’d return later that day, so it was a quick return back to the hotel, this time struggling against the ascent we’d so easily run down. After a quick deli breakfast and coffee in hand, we made our way to the Ferry Building, the area overflowing with people shopping at the farmer’s market outside and waiting in line to board the ferry. Contrary to San Francisco’s reputation for having dreary weather, the sun was shining down, its warmth enveloping us as we sat on a bench in front of the Exploratorium.
A little further down, the Coit Tower appeared in the distance, rising high above the city, and we made an impromptu decision to make that the next destination. With no directions, we somehow managed to find the first set of stairs that would lead us up the hill, through the front yards of people’s homes, and to the tower. After a brutal climb up hundreds of steps that had me gasping for breath and Ben waiting patiently for me at the top, we emerged on the summit. After waiting for too long to enter the elevator that would take us to the top of the tower, we finally got to see all of SF through arched windows, the grids of the streets stretching far into the distance with the sky like a soft blue blanket.
Taking the car to Fisherman's Wharf, we happened to park next to the famous winding Lombard Street, tourists posing in front of the eight hairpin turns. Walking to the wharf, lunch was at the famous Fog Harbor Fish House, our table placed by a window overlooking the harbor where sea lions lazed on the port and the Golden Gate Bridge rose through the clouds in the distance. We shared a classic SF meal of clam chowder and fish & chips, chowing down before people watching on a bench outside. A quick stop was made at the famous Boudin Bakery as I eagerly got two sourdoughs shaped as an adorable bear and turtle.
As the sun began to go down, we drove to the Palace of Fine Arts, a surreal example of Greco-Roman architecture in a modernized city. A wedding under the open rotunda had just ended, the colorfully dressed guests slowly exiting the grounds just as we stepped inside. It was a page from a fantastical storybook, trees stretching around the pillars with a glistening lagoon in the center and the sliver of a crescent moon rising as night fell. Ben placed a fallen flower in my hair and we sat on a bench overlooking the lake, reflecting about our experience so far in the city, and as the last of daylight faded, the palace lit up in a warm light, its grandeur on display.
A night drive took us to Chinatown, where we walked through store after store all seeming to sell the same souvenirs. As much as the aromatic scents of dim sum wafted over us, the cold winds eventually drove us back to the hotel and after a much-needed long nap, and a dinner at The Public Izakaya, exhaustion overtook us and we fell into a deep sleep.
Early next morning, we headed on foot to the SFMOMA, starting at the seventh floor and making our way down, spending hours observing sports media, abstract art, and even a quirky pumpkin exhibit. We were blessed once again with impeccable weather. A break from our usual habit of walking everywhere, we took the car to the Golden State Bridge, missing two exits in our excitement before finally parking at Vista Point. The walk across the bridge was long, a 5km loop in total with strong winds forcing us to talk loudly, but the view of the shoreline was spectacular and the water was exceptionally clear that day.
A quick drive led us to the Golden Bridge Park, which features over 1,000 acres of pathways, grassy fields, and lakes. Although our feet felt like they were about to fall off, we strolled around, people watching, and taking in the lively ambiance of music and laughter. Finally we laid down on a slope facing the Conservatory of Flowers exhausted, but fulfilled, from two days of non-stop exploration. Too early for dinner, we browsed through two local bookstores nearby, Borderlands Books and Booksmith, which was more like me sitting exhausted on a chair in the store and Ben reading the summaries of abstract books beside me. Finally, we got take out from Dumpling Baby China Bistro, after struggling to find parking for twenty minutes. It was a cozy night curled up in the hotel room, watching Paddington, and slurping on noodles and soup dumplings.
The morning of our departure was rainy and chilly, our breakfast of warm croissants at Le Marais Bakery the only reprieve against the onslaught of the cold. After checking out, Ben hurried to get the car while I waited in the lobby with the bags. The rain was coming down harder than ever as we loaded the car, quickly driving away. The skyscrapers turned into pastures as we tried to outdrive the storm, which seemed to be signaling to us that our time in the city was up and it was time to go home.