Travelogue 2008: San Francisco, Part 1

It's funny, when I tell my friends that I'm going out to San Francisco for a week, a few of them took it as my last day on earth and insist on seeing me before I leave. Do they know something I don't?

I'm starting to realize how much I don't like flying for a long period of time and I made the wrong decision to choose a window seat. Not incredibly smart on my part. I begin to be aware of my slight claustrophobia and something smells like feet. Good thing I dozed off a bit, but then I don't want to fall asleep because I don't want my snoring to annoy my fellow passengers.

From the recommendations of a friend, I made reservations at a hotel that turns out to be more motel-like. I thought it belongs to the Best Western group but I guess the setting is very different. The queen bed turns out to be more of a double, there's a shower but not a bathtub, there are no electricity outlet other than the ones using for the lamps, there are no Comedy Central or Bravo but that's HBO and my recording from last night's Project Runway didn't work on my laptop plus the walls are thin but I guess I'm not here to sleep, much. It would do for now, I doubt there are empty rooms somewhere else with an event this big in town.

Negativity aside, San Francisco seems to have lifted my spirit. Dare I say it even happy? I've noticed a surge of woofiness in the city. Hot, hairy, macho bear-type guys walking around the city. Seems like the average height of this city is a few inch taller than Philly. Guys somehow seems to be generally better looking and a lot of them seems to be better built, especially around Castro. There seems to have a sea of huge, muscular, hairy chested guys, their chests seem to be an entirely separate creatures struting down the street before their owners.

There are also tons more Asians and gaysians alike in the city. I went back to a Japanese diner on O'Farrell Street that I liked. And the next table came a bunch of late teens, early 20s speaking Cantonese. Nothing can make me feel older. So I guess I'm more ordinary here, and perhaps inferior unless I hit the gym mad for the next 18 months.

Walking around Chinatown comparing what is new and what is old, I found a vegetarian place that one of my friend has brought me to 7 years ago in which I have fail to find when I was back there 4-5 years back. They make some sweet and sour seitans that resemble sweet and sour pork, bbq pork and roast duck. Oh heavenly, too bad I've already ate, but I do have a few more days to go, so in my best Schwazenegger impressions: "I'll be back!"

After walking around for 6 hours, I think I might rest and catch up on True Blood tonight, maybe I can even catch Little Britain on Sunday. Woohoo! (Um... just watched an episode of True Blood, exactly how many muscled naked guys having sex can they fit in 60 minutes? I'm about to cough up my unemployment funds and subscribing to softcore HBO... and one guy was dancing to Jonny McGovern's Soccer Practice, lol.)


The Japanese Diner - Dojima Ann


Got this strange shot in the tunnel on Stockton Street.


The vegetarian restaurant on Washington Street that I vow to go back.


On my way to Castro.