Hawaii and Back, Vol. 4 Kauai, Day 3 San Francisco

DAY 3

Awake at five, again. Hung out, read and noshed until time for our tour of the city. Weather forecast was for high in the nineties, again, and so we opted for the small air-conditioned van tour over the open air bus hop-on-hop-off tour.

Later in the day we were so happy with our choice. The seats were comfortable, our driver excellent. This was going to be a three and one-half hour tour, lasting from 11:00 AM until 3:30 PM, we supposed. Instead the driver proceeded from hotel to hotel, dodging traffic for the first half hour, picking up his patrons. We learned this difference, already, compared to the bus tours, which pick up at one location only. Even so, it felt as if we were already on tour, as our congenial driver pointed out one famous landmark after another. A quick calculation told us that this would probably shorten our tour by one hour. Wrong again! Indeed it lengthened the tour to four and one-half hours. More on that later.

One advantage of being first on, last off, is that we got our pick of seats--two abreast on the driver side, one abreast on the opposite side. We opted for the single seats, each with its own picture window. Good choice.

In addition to the most famous tourist high spots—Alcatraz, Golden Gate Bridge, Knob Hill, Chinatown, Union Square, Bay Bridge, Lombardy Street, Cable Cars--our tour covered many others, such as the Art Museum, the City Office Buildings, the beaches and notable quaint architectural designs, among them the “Painted Lady” homes featuring bowed out front windows These homes are narrow, tall and built side to side bordering the sidewalks, with no space in between the walls.

We paused at a rather ordinary looking corner which was very famous during the hippie era. This was the corner of Haight and Ashbury, after which the hippie movement was named. Our driver pointed out the residences of several in-famous characters of that time, among them Janis Joplin.

From time to time, our van stopped to let us out for a stretch. Each stop was carefully arranged so that we could take photos of a famous landmark. Our driver knew just the right spot for the best possible shot. “Follow me,” he would instruct, as he walked a few steps to get in the optimal position. And then he offered to take photos of each couple posed in front of the scene. I was a bit surprised to learn there was an actual sandy beach in San Francisco.

In addition to being an excellent driver, historical expert and guide to the city, he could operate all common brands of cameras. He was fluent in at least three languages, speaking English and Italian, over the speaker, while conversing in Spanish with his friend in the co-pilot’s seat. We overheard two elderly folks speaking Chinese, as well. Before the day was out I learned several Italian words. Mostly all you do it trill the English equivalent and add an “ito” or “ata” while waving your hands.

We crossed the famous Golden Gate Bridge and descended down, down the switch-backs to the very bottom where few people go. Here we looked up at the bridge from a "fish' eye" view. 

Having visited San Francisco many years ago, I remembered climbing a hill, but I had forgotten that there are myriad hills. Up and down we went. On one particularly steep hill, our driver laughed, “Get ready for a roller coaster ride.” We all hung on and held our collective breath, praying the brakes worked as we swooped down to a stop at the bottom.

Lombardy Street—labeled the “crookedest street in the world” is off limits to busses and vans, thankfully so. We contented ourselves with a pause and good view at the bottom.

A final long climb to the city’s overlook at “Twin Peaks” climaxed our tour. We were not disappointed. Our van paused there to allow ten minutes of jaw-dropping views. The entire city of San Francisco stretched from horizon to horizon, requiring three or four shots to take it all in. At this point, I regretted that I had forgotten how to take panoramic pictures with our camera. Too bad. However, we could appreciate this rare, cloudless, fog-less day in the West Coast queen of all cities—the City by the Bay.

Down the twisting turning hills again, a final stop at the tour company’s tiny offices, to pay our fares of $55 USD each—Senior citizen rate—use the cramped one-person toilet, help ourselves to ice water, and rest a spell, while some of us took advantage of the small restaurant next door. Others perched on the circle bench around the tree and others simply gazed around. Indeed, people-watching was the number one activity all day.

At last, the van reversed its way around the route of fine downtown hotels, disgorging its passengers until the final stop, The Donetello, where the Mercers staggered into its cool welcoming interior, happy but pooped.