I wasn’t wrong when I claimed that San Francisco was going to be special. The last five days feel like they might have been the best of the trip. I’m leaving on the train for L.A. and I’m dealing with some savage post-Frisco-blues. Amazing people, a beautiful city and plenty of sunshine have put me in a very good place.
I’ve always imagined the Fourth of July to be a pretty big deal in the U.S. I was expecting parades, decorations, people dressed up in the stars and stripes and a lot of partying all day. Having spent most of the morning walking around the city with Mike and Ted I quickly discovered that San Francisco has a much more relaxed approach to the festivities than I believed it would be. It wasn’t until the evening when I, along with most of my fellow hostel guests made our way down towards Fisherman’s Wharf that the day really got going.
The plan of action for most of us was booze, fireworks and more booze. The fireworks were fireworks. Having nearly been exploded once in Amsterdam on New Year’s Eve I have slightly high expectations when it comes to displays and took a lot more pleasure from the two bottles of wine I decided to consume. Hindsight tells me that this wasn’t the best idea I’ve ever had, but I enjoyed myself at the time so no regrets! From Fisherman’s Wharf we stumbled back to the hostel where those of us who thought we hadn’t already had enough to drink went out to the bars once more and things got very messy for one particular individual (me) when the night came to a close.
Seriously, if I’m going to celebrate anything the rules are simple; go hard or go home!
My last day in San Francisco was spent with a brutal and well deserved hang over. Fortunately I didn’t have anything else that I particularly wanted to see and spent most of the day chilling with my new Canadian room-mates Steph and Isabella. We took a walk down to the Embarcadero and found a small market taking place in front of the ferry building.
Free samples were enjoyed and my life was changed dramatically by pistachio sorbet. It could well be the best thing. The girls and I spent a while taking it easy and enjoying the sunshine out on one of the piers before heading back to the hostel for some lunch. In the afternoon we hit up the Coit Tower and Fisherman’s Wharf and Pier 39. I took this opportunity to really get to grips with how much I love San Francisco.
I don’t know how to describe the city in a way that will make it clear exactly how much I loved being there. The Pacific Tradewinds hostel has had one of the best atmospheres of any hostel I’ve stayed in. I’ve been lucky enough to spend my time with some of the most laid back, unassuming, appreciative, funny and generally awesome people. The architecture of the city’s skyline blows my mind every time I see it. It looks like a vision of the future from the 60s. The street cars and cable cars only go further to enforce this image and I would love to spend a lot more time just digging the city. The bars, the cafes, the boutiques, the people, the hills, the music, the smells, the fog, the bridges, the bay, even the wind. I love it all.