Part 2 of 4
Day Two
It was a rainy, gray and cold Tuesday morning, perfect for Alcatraz.
I had a complimentary bagel and glass of orange juice at the hostel's cafe before heading down to Fisherman's Wharf and the ferry dock. I gawked along with the other tourists at the sea lions on Pier 39, killing time before my ferry was scheduled to leave. Sea lions are very noisy creatures. I also wondered if they were tasty.
The ferry ride was smooth and uneventful, save for the always strange feeling of being on a floating object. Alcatraz was pretty busy considering that it was a weekday morning, but the crowd was never overwhelming. A park ranger spoke through a loud speaker and gave a quick orientation about the island, including a little anecdote about how anti-social Sean Connery was during the filming of “The Rock.†I glanced around one of the three gift shops on the island and sat through a ten-minute film about the history of Alcatraz (did you know that it was just a hill in a valley tens of thousands of years ago?). It was actually fascinating to hear about the families of the correctional officers who lived on the islands. The children had to commute to school on the mainland, and one woman recalled how one of her teachers would always encourage her to do her “show-and-tell†on her life on Alcatraz.
The audio tour was superb, and you're basically led around the cold corridors by the voices of people who lived and worked here over the decades it was a prison. I saw Al Capone's supposed cell (I guess they didn't keep very good records?), and listened about the few escape attempts, including one successful one (although most think the escapees died in the bay). I walked around one of the cells used for solitary confinement and tried to imagine what it would be like being locked in one of the dark rooms for days, even weeks. Outside, I took several photos of the bay and walked around the prison. I wondered how long it would be before the whole place crumpled apart as signs of building decay were everywhere. I looked for the Native American protesters' “Red Power†graffiti featured in one of Autumn's MySpace photos, but couldn't find it. Overall, it was an excellent touristy experience.
After debarking, I looked for a place in Fisherman's Wharf that served clam chowder in a bowl. I didn't really need to look far as there were three or seafood shops/outdoor restaurants that served the stuff. For five bucks I had a hearty bowl of soup, though the bread wasn't really sourdough-ish. In fact, I don't think it was sourdough at all.
I needed to recharge my camera's batteries after all the pictures I took at Alcatraz, so I headed back to the hostel. On the walk back, I was startled by a homeless guy who was hiding behind a pair of leafy potted plants and popped out at unwary tourist who passed by. He chuckled after he spooked me and went back to hiding behind his plants.
My plan was to make it to the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art later that afternoon, but I got there at about 5:15 pm, only a half-hour before it closed. Since it was so close to closing I got in for free and sped through the “Matisse and Beyond†exhibit. I saw some paintings by Picasso, Dali and Magritte. I shook my head in amusement at a couple of paintings that were either full of one color, or just painted all white. I was disappointed on not getting to see the whole museum, so I intended to return later during my stay.
I headed through the downtown area north of Market Street toward Chinatown. I saw the Chinatown Gate and thought it was slightly more impressive than Portland's own, except that it doesn't have an adult bookstore sign adjacent to it as a scenic bonus. I continued to walk through Chinatown and found myself a little disappointed. The street seemed to be just a string of the similar-looking bargain and trinket shops, with a few uninteresting restaurants sprinkled in between them. I'm sure if I took a closer look I'd find some more interesting things, but I guess that will wait for another time.
I headed back to the hostel for a shower and then got a good recommendation from a staff member on a little Italian restaurant in the North Beach neighborhood. I dined on some delicious baked lasagna, had a pint of Sierra Nevada, and read a copy of The Onion.
Now that I knew where the Black Horse was I found a bus that took me right to the corner down the street. A different bartender, James, was running the bar that night and, if I'm not mistaken, he's one of the co-owners of the pub. According to Zerlesen, the bar's former owner had a kid, moved north to Seattle to open the White Horse Pub and sold the Black Horse to two of the regulars. The current owners now work day jobs and then run the pub at night.
I talked a bit with the bartender and another local, whom I never got the name of. I called Anna and after she arrived a fairly odd, energetic guy named David chatted with all us. He talked about all of his ideas for different food products, such as bread shaped as a cone for coned sandwiches, and showed me pictures on his cellphone (transfered from his digital camera) of slot machines and landmarks from Las Vegas. Apparently, he's planning on making a coffee table book. He also had a hilarious video of him following a co-worker at the Japanese restaurant he works at, with the co-worker angrily yelling at him in an accent, “Don't follow me!†He–David–was quite the character.
Anna's dog, Baloo, was out in her car, so she decided to bring him to meet everyone. He's a 75-pound dog of undetermined breeding. To call him friendly would be an understatement. He wanted to meet everyone in the bar, including the chairs, the wall, the floor and anything else he saw. He was also curious about what the bartender was doing behind the bar, namely pouring beers. She struggled just to hold his leash to keep him from running around the bar and into the bathroom. It was pretty amusing.
After the bar closed, Anna gave me a ride back to the hostel and told me to call her on Thursday so we could get a drink at her favorite pub in Berkeley. I told her I would and I walked into the warm and inviting hostel, tired, happy and in love with San Francisco.
Tomorrow: The Golden Gate and other stuff!