I’m going to do what I never wanted to do on this blog: A Travelogue. I hear you screaming Nooooooo! But, I’m closing in on 500 posts, and I need some filler material to reach my goal. But, this is mostly for Grandmothers…
I’ve never been there. Lynn (the Mommy) has never been. The girls only briefly during a layover from Beijing. (I kid, of course. China doesn’t allow for US adoptions.) So, we had them the old fashioned way: Me, with a cigar in the waiting room. Everything else was easy. I am digressing in a major way. (If I am too funny, then just smack me a little. Owww!… You won’t be the first.)
So, Santa didn’t really bring many gifts. But, he left us a big-ass Recreational Vehicle in the driveway. The label read: San Francisco.
Oh, look. Santa brought us a trip. Who’s driving…? [crickets]
So, we loaded up the truck, and we moved from Beverly. Hills that is… (You get the reference, or am I that old?)
We took an unorthodox trip, because the voyage is about the journey, not the destination. Or some such Buddha/New Age jumbo. Also, Isabella (she’s 8) said that. Smart kid.
And, off the itinerary, we visited a Catholic mission. San Antonio de Padua. Lynn couldn’t be more excited. The priest didn’t expect to, but he held an actual mass for the four people in attendance. There was kneeling and praying and standing and sitting and kneeling.
We really did see things through the Los Padres National Forest that were breathtaking. (Hint, don’t try this drive in an RV. Unless you are manly-man driver like me. Or, stupid. Like me.)
At the top, there are extraordinary panoramic views of the Pacific. But, this picture pretty much sums it up:
Yay! Daddy didn’t drive off the cliff!
And, we haven’t even gotten to San Francisco.
The RV park in ‘frisco (yeah, the locals hate that. It’s like people from Iowa referring to California as ‘Cali.’ No one here calls it that. So, stop that.)
Anyway, the RV park is nothing to write home about. It is across the street from what used to be Candlestick Park, home of the Giants and 49ers. Candlestick is now a pile of rubble, destined for yuppie condos and a mall.
Location Location… There was a picnic table in our “preferred” spot. Dude “upgraded” us.
But, now, we had a home base. And, thanks to Uber, we were ‘frisco bound. Yeah, I’ve got to stop doing that. (Am I right, Cali friends?)
So, of course, Chinatown for… Sushi! Wait, what? Ok, we walked past the “Floating Sushi Boat” restaurant, and the girls were transfixed. They didn’t care about the ethnic incongruity. Because there’s sushi. On boats!
Japanese food in Chinatown. Why?
I’m a non-pescatarian (I don’t eat fish), so we also worked our way up to an actual Chinese restaurant. Funny enough, it’s hard to find good Chinese food. In Chinatown. But, I digress.
We also took a New Year’s Eve boat ride across the Bay to Sausalito, or as Julianna calls it: Sausage Island. It is not an island. And, sausage is served only during breakfast hours.
Not Sausage Island. Because, it is not, in fact, an island. Also, sausage is served only during regular breakfast hours.
Oh look, Alcatraz.
The Rock. With the Bay Bridge (to Oakland) behind it.
Julianna (she’s 11): Daddy, are there still prisoners there?
Me: No, Honey. It was closed years and years ago.
J: Good. Because, they would be sad to see us in the boat pass them by…
And, of course, there’s the Golden Gate Bridge. We walked across it on New Year’s Eve. Making us among the last people to cross in 2015.
Crossing the Golden Gate Bridge.
Isabella desperately wanted an “I walked across the bridge” button from the gift shop before we did the walk. After the walk, the gift store was closed.
Oh, look. Disappointment and crying and screaming. Also, Isabella was bummed.
Family vacations are fun!