Sunday, May 20, 2007

It's A Hit 

I looked out of the window this morning to find a bunch of office workers pushing a desk down the road.
On our way to breakfast, I asked a masked wrestler and girl in a wedding dress if they'd mind me taking their photo. They said if we wanted to see more crazy people, fifty thousand or so, head down to Ocean Beach. It was the day of the Bay to Breakers Race, an annual fun run.
We already knew about the race and had decided to miss it out of our hectic schedule, but in retrospect I'm wishing that we'd fitted it in. It sounds like, erm, fun.

Instead we queued for half an hour outside Mama's on Washington Square - "Best breakfast in San Francisco," according to one leading breakfast magazine - watching the Chinese doing their stretching and the cast of Baywatch and at least two Wonder Womans strolling by en route to the start line. It was great, of course: a lovely relaxed, bright place, and breakfast was wonderful.
I hope those San Franciscans appreciate how lucky they are.

Then we picked up our hire car. We'd ordered "Intermediate" - and only because there wasn't an online option for "Small" - but what they presented was a choice between two blinged up army transporters. They were gigantic.
I refused to accept either, so they downsized us to something more sensible for no extra charge, and we were off.

It took a few miles for the posh lady in my Sat Nav to figure out where the hell she was. Even then, she kept insisting we go back to the hire car place, presumably because that was the first item on the itinerary.
We were driving across the Golden Gate Bridge, trying to enjoy a Golden Moment together, and all we could hear was bloody Miss Privately Educated spouting on about turning round at the next available opportunity. I switched her off with a few sharp words, and of course that was the end of that. Now she's sulking and won't come back on again. Bugger.

But it wasn't too hard to find Highway One, and for now all we had to do was keep the Pacific Ocean on our left and keep going.
Oh, it's a great drive. There are miles and miles of hairpin bends around coves and inlets, where the road signs say "Easy on the gas, Mister! 20mph!" and even 15mph, so it's not a road for those in a hurry.
We stopped now and then to gawp slack jawed at beaches and headlands.
We listened to music, we drove for hours, we pointed at stuff. It was great.

We're staying in Mendocino (population 824), so today was about 170 miles. I was surprised how easily I got back into it.
The town is just wrapping up after a film festival.
We speculated whether the guy in the corner of our restaurant with the notebook and laptop was an up and coming screenwriter, or maybe a critic filing his report.
I suspect he thought we were bloggers, nosey British ones, with wry dispositions but winning charm. Maybe we'll appear in his next screenplay. Good looking, no nonsense English bird goes on road trip with dopey man who photographs everything he eats - it's a hit!
We had a bottle of something mid-priced and local - Support You Local Vineyard! Yeah, but which one? - and it made us a bit giddy.

The Mendocino Cafe looks real pretty in the fading light. I used Girlfriend's head as a tripod. Everywhere closes early.

Dinner shot: Surprisingly Big Burrito.

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