46 hours in the City -- Saturday evening & Sunday morning

I finally made the executive decision that we would go to New Ganges Indian cuisine, near Golden Gate Park (across the street, actually). Our motel info recommended it. We fought for parking, then went in. There were four other people there, two of whom quickly received their to-go order and left. Another was an older Indian woman who sat perfectly still in my peripheral vision all evening. The fourth was Aftab, the proprietor. He was a trip. He was very proud to announce that everything was fresh -- no frozen! He was a hard sell on the appetizers. "Okay, what appetizers?" "Samosas." "Okay, samosas AAAANNNDD...??" "Uh, pakoras." "Very good please. Samosas and pakoras AAANNNNNDD...??" We ordered our food (aloo gobi and mushroom muttar -- later he also pushed a whole-wheat chapati on us), and when he came back with the samosas, there was a whole performance that went with it. I reacher for my fork, and he said "Ah, may I offer a bit of life advice, please? He who eats with his fingers will never get burned." So I picked up my samosa with my hands, and he said "You like sauces?" There was a mango sauce and a mint sauce on the table, and they were delicious. I nodded. He made some noise about "allow me," and then poured a bit of mint sauce on the corner of my samosa. I took a bite and raised my eyes and mmm-ed appreciatively. He then spooned some mango sauce on it. I bit and mmm-ed again. He said "You give me a bite?" Uhhh... "You would give me a bite, please?" "Um, okay." "Which can I have, a small bite or a big bite?" "Uh, a small bite, I guess. It's so good, I want to keep it all to myself." I didn't know how to play this game! He instructed me to turn the bitten end upright. Then he spooned in mint and mango sauce and said "This is my bite?" "Sure." "I can have this bite?" "Uh, yeah." "Take my bite for me." Oh, thank god. I did, and it was very good. He then proceeded to do the same for Sweetie, minus the "my bite" gag. I was concerned fro a while that he would stand over us and spoon sauces onto our individual bites all night!

Then a creepy lady walked in. He offered her a seat by the window, but she said "Oh, no thanks, I'll just sit right over here!" and sat right next to us. She then made a big production out of having met him before, but she couldn't remember his name, she met him at a vegetarian society event, does he know Jim, blah blah... When she sat down, she was like "Hi guys!" Then she asked if there was a discount for vegetarian society members. She had her card! (Sweetie pointed out that it's a little fucked-up to ask for a discount in a deserted restaurant.) When we finally left, we laughed our asses off. It was so strange! We were really tired, so we just went back to the motel and watched strange subtitled-in-Korean Chinese TV. Or vice-versa.
Sweetie took this artsy shot from our window.

This morning we got up early, dropped off the keys to the room, and went to the Ferry Building.
I had had this fantastic idea where we would get some cheese from Cowgirl Creamery, some Acme bread, some Peet's coffee, and maybe some fresh fruit and sit and watch the water. Well, that would have worked better if the place was open. A few stores did open shortly after we got there, and we got our bread and coffee, and some cheddar from Golden Gate Meat Company.

Then we took a last picture of some creepy outdoor art and headed for the freeway.


There was some confusion as to how to actually get on the freeway, since all the signs said "take the detour!!! Right now! Detour!!" And then the detour signs ran into a chain link fence. Then we found some more signs and we followed them, but they stopped without ever putting us on the freeway. Then we found some more signs, but they ran us into a bunch of those folding barriers in front of a closed on-ramp, and then we found some more signs, and they ran us into a bunch of construction rubble and an unmarked, one-lane tiny scary tunnel, but that actually put us on the Bay Bridge. And then we were home! Yay, home!

I think a lot of my love for S.F. is nostalgic. Like, when I was a kid, those people selling jewelry on the street near Pier 39 were practically magical. The kids breakdancing by Ghiradelli square were unparalleled. Each block held a new surprise -- a man painted silver and pretending to be a robot! A Peruvian pan flute band playing El Condor Pasa! People flying Chinese box kites! Steel drums, bongos, a fiddler, a guitarist, a crazy person! It was all so cool! And as an adult, I can see how it is a bunch of shit-peddlers, panhandlers, and crazy people. But behind it all is still something magical, whereas for Sweetie, I recognize that's not there. I still want to show him the Sutro baths, the Zoo, Golden Gate Park, the planetarium and aquarium, maybe the Japanese Tea Gardens. But I realize that in my mind, things like the Tea Gardens will always be bigger and more mysterious than they are in real life. And in real life, the buses are late, the on-ramps are poorly labeled, and the crazy people carry specimen bottles full of loogies on the bus (no, for real. My stomach turned.). I just wish I could share some of that magic with Sweetie. I know my California will never live up to his Oregon, just as his Oregon will never live up to my California. It makes me a little sad.