I did not have firm plans on what to do in San Francisco, so I’ve sort of followed the road, bypassing Presidio – which in hindsight I really should have visited-and went towards the ocean to the House on the Cliff.
Its modern structure somewhat disappointed me and I was really surprised later when I learned that the house was built in early 1900s! I did not have much time before the museums would start to close and I did want to visit at least one of them that day, so I did not go down to the Camera Obscura, preferring a quiet lunch on the terrace with the view of the ocean. I am a big fan of clam chowder and the chowder in the House on the Cliff was one of the best I tried (or maybe I was just too hungry? J)
class=”MsoNormal” style=”MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt”>In any case, after I finished lunch I was running a bit short on time as it was getting close to 3:30 and the Legion of Honor Museum that I wanted to visit could close at 5 for all I knew. I left the House on the Cliff, but I still wanted to get down to the ocean. There was a funny show down below, where people in what seemed two carts were roaming about on the shore, driven by the force of the wind in the parachutes attached to the carts. I forgot what those guys are called, there is a name for this sport, - but they were a great fun to watch! On top of everything else, I wanted to come down also to touch the Pacific Ocean again, for the first time in over 13 years. I am a bit sentimental in this way, I have to admit… >
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I finally got a chance to watch again “Three days of the Condor” many, many years after I’ve seen it for the first time. I was captivated by this superb thriller again just as much as I’ve been all these years ago. It’s possible that I enjoyed it even more now, because of all those small details I’m sure I’ve missed before.
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Leaving Monterey I’ve taken the Route 1 again on a whim and after about half an hour of driving in almost complete darkness I started to get a bit edgy. On my right there was the darkness of the ocean with occasional gleams of lights from the oil rigs, on my left I had the darkness of the mountains, occasionally pierced by the lights of solitary houses. There were not so many cars on the road anymore as it was after 8pm already and I realized that I might be needing a faster way to San Francisco if I were to make it to the hotel at some point of the evening.
About that time I’ve noticed a sign pointing in the direction of the Route 17 and remembered that my cousin’s husband sort of mentioned that it is better to approach San Francisco by Route 17. Making another split second decision I took a turn to Route 17 and very soon started to get even more concerned. Route 17 was taking me through the mountain pass with a lot of twists and turns, where the speed limit was between 25-45 miles and the road seemed interminable. Moreover, I did not see many signs of inhabited areas as well and I began to wonder if I ever make it to that city where so many people seemed to have left their hearts. That opportunity for me seemed more and more distant at that moment…
However, by some miracle, around 10pm I’ve realized that I was getting close to San Francisco, all signs were pointing at that. I’ve entered the city on the last whiff of gas, almost missed the last exit before the Bay Bridge (which would have taken me to Oakland instead of my hotel and much desired rest) and somehow managed to find my way to the corner of Broadway and Van Ness, where I found my hotel, the Castle Inn.
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