Pictures!

Napa and Santa Barbara
https://plus.google.com/photos/105171197567394309177/albums/5895147109820058913?banner=pwa


Santa Barbara, no matter what the album is called online...
https://plus.google.com/photos/105171197567394309177/albums/5894636694644598289?banner=pwa

Napa Valley Wine Train

Well folks, here it is: the thing I have been most waiting for. Today, Rachel and I drove up to Napa for the Wine train, with food and drink and a tour and tasting at Napa Valley's own Grgich Hills Winery. I highly suggest their Zinfandel. But I get ahead of myself.

We got there around 10:15 and signed in. Turns out that our tickets were pins that we got to wear that said "Grgich Hill Winery" with a picture of the train on them. I thought that was really cool. We checked out the wines they had for sale, and looked into shipping some home. The woman in the gift shop told us that Pennsylvania was a "bad state" and that they wouldn't ship any for us, but that we could buy shipping boxes from them--for a nominal fee, of course--and either ship it ourselves or check it when it flew. Neither of us was planning to do either of those things, but it was nice to know.

They started the tour off with a whole bunch of information about the train that we would be getting on. It was hard to hear, because a lot of the people were just talking and talking and wouldn't shut up to listen. They finally called us, and we went out to get on the train. They had a lot of opportunities to get our pictures taken in "set up" places, and the first was right as we got on the train. Rachel and I opted to skip all of these. It seemed silly and expensive.

Once on board, they sat us at a really exquisite table (see the pictures) and brought us a complimentary half glass of the train house wine. We had both gotten vouchers for two drinks each, so it was nice to not have to use them on this first drink; we got to see if it was a wine we would like, and we chose the Sauvignon Blanc. . They took our lunch orders and brought us a delicious salad: baby lettuce with goat cheese and almonds with a something or other dressing that was sweet and tart all at once. I ordered the beef medallions, and Rachel ordered the pork. They also had chicken and two types of fish. We both decided on the chocolate brownie for desert, which we would get when we got back from Grgich Hils. We had about an hour of riding the train and eating (and drinking! We both used our first voucher for a Merlot with our meals. Delish!) before we got to the winery. We were going past all sorts of other wineries, though, and I got a picture of a few.

The car that we were in was beautiful. There were fans up top moving the AC around (it was over 100 degrees F today), we had beautiful silver and china (see picture!) and our server was very polite. Everything was decked out in reds and greens and golds. It felt very lush, and very early 1900s first class. It might not seem like it from this trip, but I don't pamper myself very often, and this was worth the expense. The beef was so tender I could cut it with my fork, and the carrots that came with it were nice and crunchy. There was a long strip of Cambozola cheese on top of my beef, and it went so well with the truffle potato cake underneath it all. Oh, it was heavenly!

When we got to the winery, we met Mike, the guide. He was hilarious. For example, the owner of the winery also goes by Mike, and you might notice from the picture that he is turning 90. One of the ladies joked that our Mike looked pretty good for 90, and he responded "That's what happens when you drink too much on the ride up!" or something similar related to the idea that alcohol was making him look younger (his was funnier). As I said, it was over 100 degrees out, so he hustled us into the winery itself, where it was a downright chilly 55 degrees. He gave us some history of Mike Grgich and the winery we were in, and then we went to taste their 5 wines. He told us how to be wine snobs, but kept insisting that it wasn't about being able to identify the full body or the smells of the wines; it was about enjoying the wine you were drinking and having a good time. He kept saying "It's Ok if you make a mistake, just drink another bottle and it'll all taste great!" He was, as I stated earlier, hilarious, and really informative, and just a very genial guy. When Rachel and I asked about shipping to PA, he did not call us a bad state, but did note that we had some "really archaic liquor laws" while shaking his head at the travesty of it all.

Back on the train, we were put into the lounge car (pictures!) to have our desert and tea for the hourish trip home. It was so leisurely! I half wish I had petticoats and a dress. I had to go to the bathroom at this time, and I have to say: there were marble counter tops, and everything was full sized--the door, the counter, the sink. It was so spacious for a train bathroom! Rachel didn't believe me.

We both still had a drink voucher left, but between the two glasses before the tasting and the five tastes in the  tasting, we didn't have any more room for wine right then. We used them in the gift shop for post cards and a bottle of chocolate wine.

After all that fun, we went to the Jelly Belly factory and did a tour. I had forgotten about this part of the day until Rachel asked if I was still up for it on the way out. The factory wasn't moving, but we got to see all the steps, and we got a lot of free Jelly Belly's along the way.

We checked into our hotel, went to Safeway to get some wine and cheese for dinner to continue the tradition of the day, and came back. We went down to the pool and spa, but there were some pretty obnoxious people in the pool and the hot tub was pretty crowded, so we only stayed for like 20 minutes, if even that long. We came back, and I got to work on this.

Tomorrow, we are going to finally see Joss Whedon's William Shakespeare's Much Ado About Nothing. Once I realized it would be out when I was in CA with Rachel, I knew I couldn't see it without her. It's the third thing I was most looking forward to (the first being this and The Painted Cabernet combined).

Adios!
Bethie

Wine train!

Late night train fun!

So, there is no one at the amtrak desk at San Jose. This guy that just got off my train was standing at the desk, giving those obnoxious finger-mouth whistles trying to get someone from the back. Of course, they are all loading/unloading the train that just came in. Some people walked in front of him, and he freaked out, being very rude and practically yelling "Excuse me!" Only without the Steve Martin Charm. They jawed back and forth until a guy stepped in and asked what the first guy needed. Turns out he wanted to know which caltrain track to go to, which Amtrak can't help him with and which is clearly marked at the bottom of the ramp, which he said he understood but clearly didn't. He then jawed at the guy helping him and stomped off, muttering and shaking his head.

And the two guys in front of me just missed the Seattle train!

High drama at the San Jose Diridon Station!

Santa Barbara to San Jose

Sleeper Car Fun! I got two meals, free champagne, free wine, and a private place to get away from everyone if I needed to, which I only sat in after dinner. 

The train was two hours late to the station, which was OK by me, but most of the travelers were very upset. The luggage check lady had an argument with a man who checked his luggage (which is free), then went to lunch, and then came back to uncheck his luggage. The woman was upset because they have a "luggage watching" service for $4. So she yelled at him, saying he was just trying to game the system, and that wasn't how it was supposed to be, and now they had to go through and find all of his luggage. He was taken aback (I'm pretty sure he wasn't trying to game the system, but maybe he was a good actor) and was apologizing as she went and got her luggage. Another guy, grandpa aged, kept standing impatiently next to the check in table, cutting up close to people checking in their luggage, and asking the lady when the train was coming, and what the problem was, and so on (I found out later that they needed to switch out a sleeper car due to a blown out AC unit). I wasn't even really paying attention to the guy and he was getting on my nerves. I could only imagine what the actual Amtrak employee was feeling. 

Since I sat outside for about 2 hours, I got to watch a homeless guy make loops and ask for quarters. He probably went around four or five times, asking different people each time. 

Our conductor came over the intercom, saying, “Now Arriving: Salinas. Wohoo!” very much like Art would. The train has been having some issues, and earlier he came on and said, “Ladies and Gentlemen, some approximate times for you here,” at the end of which he said “Well, at the rate we’re going, it could be one, three, four, five, heck, we might not even get there.” They’ve been running behind all day, and stuff just keeps getting worse. We just had to switch something over because the electric hasn’t been working.

I saw Florence in the waiting room at Amtrak. I couldn't bring myself to go and sit next to her. She was nice to listen to the first time around, but it was going to be exhausting the second. I was enjoying being in my own little world, and having to talk to another person was going to suck. 

That being said, I sat with all sorts of people on the train. For lunch, I was with two guys traveling from Albuquerque to San Francisco. They took the overnighter to LA and then transferred to this train. The one told me how he used to bike the three hundred miles down to Santa Barbara and then take the train back up on Thanksgiving weekend--a hundred miles a day. At the wine tasting, I sat with an engineer who has been all over the US and Europe. We were having a lot of fun; when the guy came to get dinner reservations, he thought we were together and was really embarrassed when we told him we had just met. We both ended up being seated together for dinner too, along with a couple on their first anniversary.  She works for Boeing and he is a paramedic from the OC. We also had a good dinner and talked about high school and traveling; they had to ask us to leave because they needed the table. 

This is my last "travel" train experience. Tomorrow is the Wine Train in Napa, the other thing I am most looking forward to. One thing that everyone I have talked to has said is that the train is such a nice way to travel. It's comfortable, it's a slower pace. You don't have to worry about cars and parking. I've gotten to meet so many more people on the train than I ever do when I fly. It's nice! 

I think I'm at San Jose! 

Wednesday in Santa Barbara

I spent the morning working, finally really getting a chance to get into my summer homework after having finished the readings like a month ago. I told myself I’d work until noon, and then go walking up and down State Street, the main drag in Santa Barbara. I considered doing the beach, but I knew I’d really only have time for one thing, and I really wanted to find something local for presents. There hadn’t been much of a chance for me to just go shopping, either, so I figured that was OK. The shops were all over, from random hippie garb to Saks and Nordstroms to going-out-of-business t-shirt shops. There was all sorts of food, too. It was nice to just walk. There were a lot of people, but it had a very different feel than San Francisco. Maybe because I was just browsing, or maybe because everyone else was just browsing and shopping, too, but I felt a lot of at ease here.

At 2:00 ish I went back to the hotel. It was hot, and I was calling Mom and Dad for an actual voice conversation at 3:00. At 5:30, I left for the Painted Cabernet.

This was perhaps one of the things I was most looking forward to on this trip. The Painted Cabernet features a different painting every night, and you go and drink some wine and they teach you how to paint it. They had the room set up in about four sets of tables, all with easels and water cups ready to go. They gave me a stiff sheet of cardboard when I went in, and up at the front of the room were jugs of paint with signs saying how many pumps of each color we needed. I thought this was ingenious, as I’d been wondering if we’d all get big palettes a la Bob Ross or what. I was also handed four brushes rubber banded together, and put at the head of one of the tables, directly facing the teacher. Yay good placement!

I shared my table with a family visiting their son. They were an older couple, and they were so sweet. The dad put a biodome in his skyline, and the mom kept saying how bad she had been at art class as a kid. They were hilarious and very nice to me, talking to me throughout the night and telling me that my painting looked good.

So, the way it worked was that the teacher was up on a platform by the front windows, and she had on a microphone. She’d show us how to do a step, blare some music, and we’d all do the step. She’d wander, make sure we were doing all right, and when most of us had finished, she’d go back and do the next step, then blare some music, and wander again. It was a lot of fun, and surprisingly relaxing. I had been worried I’d get really type-A with the whole night and be upset when things didn’t look exactly like her painting or precisely how I wanted them to, but I was pretty good with just letting my mistakes go! It might have had something to do with the wine I had before I started, and the second glass I got during the break in the middle. Any time I made a mistake, I just said something like Bob Ross would say, like “There are no mistakes, just happy accidents” or “let’s just make that a pretty little cloud.”

I got home around 10:00 or so, and it was so great to see my painting when I woke up this morning. I packaged the heck out of it and sent it home via USPS this morning, and soon it will be hanging in Delaware.  

Santa Barbara Bound!

Note: I wrote this post on the train from San Jose to Santa Barbara. Between everything else, I forgot that I hadn't put it up yet! So it was all written on Wednesday. 

The train to Santa Barbara is perhaps the coolest I have been on. I’m not sure if it is because we have the long route, from Seattle to LAX. There is so much room. The seats are wide and well-padded. There is a foot rest and leg rest build in, and the seats really lean back. There is a whole car that is just huge windows. I’ll try to get pictures on my way back, but this is really cool. I went down to the snack car earlier, but I don't really need food. 

About halfway through the ride, an older woman named Florence started talking to me about her life. Somehow, as most people who want to talk tend to, she got on the subject of her own travel opportunities as a younger woman. She told me all about how, when she was younger, she answered an ad in a sailing magazine. A man was looking for someone to travel with him while he sailed the seven seas. Florence wrote to him, telling him the type of woman he should be looking for when he conducts his interviews. “I never dreamed he’d pick me.  I thought he would have thousands of letters,” she told me. “But I put my daughter’s office address on it and sent it.” Well, of course, a few days later she got a call from her daughter, telling her to “Call the Skipper.” She went on to tell me that he offered to take her with him on his adventures, offered to fly her back every month to see her kids, and she turned it down. She had responsibilities and commitments, she said. She said this guy ended up sailing around the world for seven years; she looked him up recently and found him, and they spoke some more to each other. She passed up the trip of a life time.

All while she was talking, I kept wondering how true the story could be, and if it was, why was she telling it to me? Did she think this was my trip of a lifetime? Was she a lonely old woman? Did she regret not taking this opportunity, although by all means she had a very interesting life anyway (she told me about that, too)? I tried to just listen to her for a while without over analyzing, but it really made me wonder. 

A note on traveling alone

Last night, the waitress sat me at the front table, right in the front door, as I sat by my lonesome to eat dinner. The Painted Cabernet just called to confirm that I was by myself for seating arrangement purposes. The Conductor at the Old Sacramento Railroad was taken aback that I had only one ticket. The waitress at 58 Degrees seemed surprised to only have one to serve. The woman at the desk when I checked in said, "Will one room key be enough?" although her's might have been a way to make sure I wasn't sneaking in a second person.

While there have been a couple times on this trip that I wished I had someone with me, I've also enjoyed the freedom that traveling alone has given me. I get to do what I want when I want. I slept in till 8:00 today. I didn't have to share the shower. I wandered Sacramento and changed my route and my plans three times on Sunday. I can be indecisive about dinner and not feel guilty.

This isn't to say I love traveling alone. It is to say that when the people see me alone and are all surprised and pitying, it makes me laugh a little on the inside.

Last update in the flurry of updates: San Francisco, Day 2

San Francisco, Day 2

I met people from Maui on the train inbound on Tuesday morning. I have been thinking about the way we travel; for the most part, people do not really talk to each other. If they’ve come with groups, that’s one thing, but saying hello to the person you sit next to on the train in the morning isn’t really done. The only reason I talked to the woman from Maui is because she was wondering what time we would be getting in to San Francisco, and was asking the group member in front of her, who ended up being a senior in high school. We talked for a while about the state of public education in the United States, and how we want college to be cheaper, and how you get out of education what you put into education. We talked about the time it took to get to Maui. We talked about how sheltered the kids from the island were. We talked about fog and vog (volcano fog) and fog delays and rain. It was nice.

Remember, though, the guy who was talking about his ten dollars on the bus? I wouldn’t have wanted to talk to him. So I have to wonder what the difference between it all is. Or if it is just kind of the way it goes; sometimes you get cool people, like the man on the train in Sacramento, and sometimes you get the guy who licks the coffee cup.

So anyway, I was going to the Golden Gate Park. I had originally planned to go there on Friday, but my friend Sean, who lives in Washington DC, was going to be in San Francisco on Monday and Tuesday. We made plans to meet up on Tuesday, so I canceled Friday in the interest of saving some money. It takes $16 or more—I forget—to get to San Francisco from Rachel’s house, and then $2.00 each way for Golden Gate Park. Doing that three times is expensive! Originally, I was going to make Sean meet me around the top of the Park, but we ended up meeting by the Bison. Yes. There are Bison. They were ugly and smelly. I walked about 20 blocks to get there, since my original directions had me getting off that early for the original meet. It was misting in the morning, but I finally had a reason to use the London Fog coat I dragged along, so I was OK with that. I also got to walk through some really nice Asian neighborhoods. I saw a lot of Budda gardens with very well kept flowers. There were few people, since it wasn’t central downtown and it was raining, so I ended up having a very peaceful walk.

Sean was staying with his friend Richard, who I met in DC two years ago; he’d been in California for a while, so he acted as official tour guide. After looking at the bison for all of two minutes, we decided to walk to the Pacific Ocean. Sean had ventured in the day before, but I made it clear that I did not do wet sand, and would not be leaving the concrete. The Pacific Ocean was obviously on the Ocean side of Golden Gate Park; after there, we decided we wanted to go to the Bay Side, which isn’t actually on the Bay. That’d be insane.

Golden Gate Park is the largest Green Space in any city in the United States. I’m not sure of the actual mileage, but according to Sean, it is 40 blocks long, and every 10 blocks is 1000 yards, I guess because the average city block is a 1000x1000 square, so we walked 40000 yards. Again, this is according to Sean. I think we maybe walked three miles, tops, although I technically walked the length twice. EDIT: According to Wikipedia: Configured as a rectangle, it is similar in shape but 20 percent larger thanCentral Park in New York, to which it is often compared. It is over three miles (5 km) long east to west, and about half a mile north to south.

Richard kept saying that we were going to Hate Street, and I was rather confused, since I thought that San Francisco was the city of brotherly love and all, and the way he was talking about it implied it was where all the hippies hung out. So why was it called Hate Street? I finally asked him this, and he laughed and said “H-a-i-t-e. Haite Street.”

While we were doing our walking, we were detouring a bit to look at pretty flowers or some of the attractions of the park. At one point, we were walking around the Japanese Tea Garden, and a young kid came out of the foliage to our right, carrying a stick of bamboo the length of my torso and the thickness of my thighs. We were all taken aback, but tried to ignore it because that’s what you do in situations like that. However, as we got closer, he dipped down and crouched to our left, directly behind some bushes, so that people coming up the path wouldn’t be able to see him.

Now, we were in the middle of a crowded park. We were right off the main road, about 85% sheltered from sight by trees and shrubs and the like. There were three of us, and one of him. And he had crouched down to tie his shoe, which I clearly watched him do. This did not stop me from clenching and worrying that he was going to attack us from behind once we had passed, since he wasn’t quite in position right as we walked by. There wasn’t an attack, of course, but once we were passed and out of earshot, even Richard said “Ok, did anyone else think that was weird? Like, what was that kid gonna do, attack us? What was with the big stick?” So I was glad that I wasn’t the only one.

We went to a delicious burger place on or near Haight street, the name of which I unfortunately forget. If anyone is interested, I can look up my receipts. My clipper card—my ticket for the in-town trains—was  denied on the way home, but the conductor just told me to go ahead and sit down and then call clipper, so that was a nice break, as I (once again) had no cash on me. I tried to do laundry at Rachel’s, which lead first to a frantic search for cash, then a frantic search for ones, then a frantic search for 3.50 in quarters because the pop machine from which I was going to get change was broken or unplugged, then a frantic search for the laundry room because I was trying to get into a storage closet, not the laundry room itself, and I didn’t bother to go around the corner to see the other door with the sign that said “Laundry Room.” Because I didn’t plan well, the only thing I had to wear while I was doing laundry was my bathing suit, so I was cold, but Rachel and I sat out at the pool and had a nice night just talking. When we went inside, we found out about the Texas Legislature and #standwithwendy, so we spent the next few hours watching that and Leverage while we caught up on the day. Rachel had been trying to get her car registered with the DMV, so her day was like my Monday. We were both pretty much dead to the world, brain-wise.

If it seems like I’m short changing my last day in San Francisco, I apologize. There was a lot of catching up with Sean that 95% of you won’t find really interesting. And a lot of walking. I saw my first hummingbird,  and at first I thought it was an overly fat bug. I forgot to charge my camera, so I don’t have many pictures, and my cell phone camera doesn’t like to work consistently. Tuesday was originally supposed to be my catch-up day, and I kind of feel like I needed it to be.

Oh! I forgot to tell you all that the Earthquake siren went off while we were at the beach. When Richard told us what it was, I got really excited and started jumping up and down. Then he told me it was only a test. Is it weird that I wanted to experience an earthquake? Just a little one, since they supposedly happen a lot down here…

Roaring Camp Railroad.

It’s important to note that I almost skipped this. After Sunday, and the decidedly NOT FREE Crocker,  I was worried about the expense of renting the car and getting in and parking and everything, and plus I’m a bit of a baby. The whole bus experience did not put me in the best of moods, and I was driving up into the very misty mountains, and my phone was dying, so I was worried about getting lost. Overall, though, this has probably been my favorite thing, and I’m really glad Mom talked me into still doing it.

At first glance, I was pretty sure this was going to be a letdown. The parking lot was practically empty—again, the weather was scaring a lot of Californians. There was alternating mist and actual drops, but it never did more than drizzle. It was chilly, though, and I was mad I wasn’t wearing pants. Most of the attractions were closed down. There was a candle maker I had wanted to visit, even though it was clearly for little kids. They were closed. The food hut was open, as was the gift shop. That was about it. I had about an hour and a half to wait, so I read Murder on the Orient Express and tried to get excited. When that didn’t work, I walked down to the state park that was right next to the Railroad. I found a sign that said “Mountain Lions attack without warning!” I decided I’d go back to the railroad. A tour group from PA showed up, and I tried to talk to some of them, but they weren’t interested and went back to their own little lives. There was an older woman who told me they were from Clayburn, and then explained all of the places outside of Philadelphia that was kind of near to, since most people don’t know Clayburn. I tried to say I was from both Pittsburgh and Delaware, and she just said “Oh.” They all got the last two cars of the train, and the general population around me was very angry. One woman—once again, there with her children and her parents!—was telling anyone who would listen that no one was supposed to be able to reserve cars. I couldn’t understand why they were so upset about it, because there was plenty of room for everyone, and I thought all of the seats were pretty equal. But whatever.

Once we were on the train and out of the rain, our conductor started telling us facts about the train, the area, the redwoods, railroad history, all of it. He was funny, with a dry humor that I appreciated. He explained as we went over a 40 foot trestle bridge that this was the spot where they threw people off if they didn’t have tickets. Boys, girls, young, old, even Yetis. I loved it.

I left right after the trip because everything was shut down, but I got to see them “gas up” the engine twice. Just like in those olden days, we stopped under a water tower, and a pipe came down and they filled the engine up with water. I left feeling really happy. I enjoyed just going through the woods and hearing the facts, some of which I’ll post later once I get them all transcribed, and there is a sort of simple joy in being shown around. While I found the redwoods pretty, they weren’t as awe inspiring as I thought they might be. Still I felt pretty happy as I went down the mountain.

I returned my rental car, and I was told I could get a ride to the train station. I told the woman that I needed to be there by 5:30, the time of my train. It was 4:45 when I got in to the rental station. I missed my train. I was so frustrated trying to get out of San Jose. My phone was completely dead, so I couldn’t call Rachel and tell her I’d be late to the Menlo Park station. It was going to take me close to an hour to get home, and then next train didn’t come until 6:23. I got in around 7:10; Rachel and I did a food truck for dinner, and I went home to de-stress.

I did try to get pictures of myself with redwoods. Unfortunately, the people I asked to get pictures had no idea how to take a picture, so there is a lot of me and the group, and the whole scale of the redwood is kind of lost. I got a lot of pictures of trunks. Generally, the pictures didn’t work on the train. The thing that was so great about it was just being in the forest. The train did what’s called a switchback up the mountain; the engine pulls us up to a certain point, and then they switch the rails so that we end up on another track. The locomotive is then at the end of the train, and pushes it up the hill. Once we’re all the way up, we switch again, and the locomotive pulls. The people next to me could not comprehend this maneuver, so it took a bit to explain it to them. And again, at the top of the mountain, we went around in a circle, so they had to flip a switch to change the rails. However, we had an opportunity halfway around to get out and wander. When we got back in, the group next to me switched sides, because they wanted to see the other side of the trip. I explained to them that they didn’t need to; since we were going around in a circle, we would naturally be switched. That also didn’t make sense to them.

I would like to point out that these two maneuvers made complete sense to me, and did not have to be explained at all.  The same for the trip back from Sacramento. I just naturally got that I should sit on the same side of the train to see the other side of everything that I missed. Me. The girl who stood at Bus Stop 68 for bus 23, who went East instead of West, and who stood on the wrong side of the street for a good seven minutes before figuring it out. And these things happened, independent of each other, less than three hours apart.

Yay spatial reasoning skills!

Monday: Home from Sacramento and San Jose/Roaring Camp Railroad

Monday was long. I woke up at 5:45 to get my room cleared out; I had to take my sheets down to the front desk. I walked the couple of blocks to the Amtrak station, and bought myself the Mocha I’d been craving all week but hadn’t wanted to spend money on. It did not live up to expectations, leaving a chalky and unflavored warm milk taste in my mouth. It was, however, a warm drink, and it was cold outside. Sacramento had been experiencing “rain,” which was really just mist or a vague sprinkle.  We’re not talking Romantic-Comedy-kiss-in-the-rain rain here. They were very upset about it though, and it was a big topic of conversation for locals.

My trip back on Amtrak was fine from Sacramento to San Jose. I sat on the same side of the car, so I got to see all of the stuff I missed on the way down (the fact that I can do that flip in my head will matter later on). Once I got out at San Jose, I had to get across town to my rental car. I was driving up into the mountains to Roaring Camp Railroad, and car rentals right next to the Amtrak were like $80 a day or some absurd number. Rachel and I figured that it wouldn't be too much for a taxi to take me 5 miles, so I got out $20 cash in case they didn't do cards and went in search.

The first guy at the taxi stand said he could take me, and we got on our way. We’d gone a mile when I looked at the price: $5.90. It was ticking up, too, because we were sitting in traffic. His rates were written on the door: a base of $3 something, and then .30 every ¼ mile thereafter. I got nervous and was having trouble with the math, so I asked him if he took credit cards, “Because I only have $20 cash. So if this is going over that, I need to get out.” I gave a little laugh because I thought $15 was an absurd amount, and the cabbie said, “Oh yeah, it’s definitely going over $20. We’re going on the freeway. I mean, I can take you to an ATM.” I wasn’t sure if he was taking me for a ride or what, because I was pretty sure you could get there without the freeway, and it certainly looked like he had a machine to swipe credit cards sitting right there on his dashboard, but I just told him to take me to this one bus stop. He said, “This is that bus stop,” and lo, we were at the intersection I needed! So I gave the guy $8 and got out, since it sucked that he only drove like a mile and possibly missed out on a better fare. I got into the bus shelter—oh my, the rain was coming down in actual drops, not just mist form—and stood for a few, as my phone was telling me a bus would be coming in about three minutes. I wanted the 23 West bound. Never mind I was standing at the 68 northbound spot. I was sure that just meant that the 68 usually stopped there, and the 23 must not have a regular stop. So when the 23 stopped at the light right next to me, I expected it to turn right and come pick me up at the bus shelter.  So when it when straight through the light and stopped at the bus shelter across the street from me, I was justifiably confused. I started running to catch it, and I don’t know if the guy saw me running or what, but he waited at the stop for a few minutes, and left right after I got on. I thought I was really lucky and I was happy to be on my bus. Yes, it was going to take close to 35 minutes to get to my rental now, but I had worked that time into my schedule. Until I realized we were heading East.

I wasn’t sure at first. I was following along on my google map, and I thought that maybe it was just taking a new route, maybe because of construction downtown. I remembered that San Francisco had rerouted a lot of routes during their construction, and we were kind of going in the right direction, so I had to be on the right bus. About 5 or 6 stops in, I finally accepted I was going the wrong way. I had to go up to the driver and ask, but at least I didn’t stick it out forever.

So I waited for the next bus at the stop that I got out on. However, I didn’t cross the street. So as I stood there, it occurred to me that any bus that came to this stop would also be heading East. I’d like to say this occurred to me quickly. It did not. I’m pretty sure I missed at least one West Bound bus while I worked through that little ditty in my head.

Once I finally got on my correct bus, I had about a fifty minute ride ahead of me. I was good, although frazzled and frustrated and stressed, but I was on a bus, I was moving, I was going in the right direction, and eventually I’d get where I’d need to go. A few stops after I got on, an older man with a big pot belly and a long beard got on and sat in the seats reserved for the elderly and the handicapped, so he was facing into the bus. Since I didn’t want to stare, or look at him directly, I used the corner of my eyes and filled in the rest, and now I imagine him to look like a grungy Santa. He had a cup of coffee with him, which I know because I saw it out of the corner of my eye. I also watched him lick the cup a few times. The whole cup. Not just the lid, or a little dripdrop. The whole cup. After every sip he took, he gave a huge AHHHHH, like that was perhaps the most delicious drink he had, and would ever have, again. He did this many, many times, as it appears his coffee was completely full when he got on the bus. He talked loudly, as that one person on the bus always seems to. After ten or fifteen minutes, a seat opened up behind me.  There was an older Asian lady sitting in it.

“Can I sit next to you?” the man asked.  There was also a seat open next to me, but it was occupied by my backpack, so for a second I was panicked that he was talking to me.

“What?”  the Asian lady said.

“Can I sit next to you?” he asked again.

“Oh, no,” she said.

“I can’t sit next to you?” he said, surprised that she said no.

The Asian lady said something unintelligible.

“I can sit next to you?” he said, starting to gather his stuff.

“Yes, yes,” the Asian lady said. I’m not sure if she had been confused by his initial question, or if she gave in to his surprise at being told she wanted to sit alone (or at least not with him). He moved all of himself and his stuff, which I imagine looked like a bag of presents, but might have just been a big bag of laundry, maybe, or not a big bag at all. Once behind me, he started explaining why he was on the bus.

“Yeah, the lady shortchanged me. She owes me ten dollars. I thought she was giving me too much change yesterday, so I gave her ten back, but then I looked and I realized I shouldn’t have, so I’m going to get my ten dollars back. I really like shopping there. They’re really good. But I just need my ten dollars back.”

This continued for the next several stops, with he and the Asian Lady discussing the discount store that owed him money, and how it was good, and how ten dollars was really a lot, and the other places they would shop, and that he needed his ten dollars. Mostly it was him talking, but the Asian lady was very nice and seemed to actually engage in his conversation.

Once they got off, the bus was a lot quieter. 

That's the Pacific ocean!

Redwoods!

From monday. :)

Pictures!

Sacramento Day 1: https://picasaweb.google.com/105171197567394309177/SacramentoDay1

Sacramento Day 2 and Roaring Camp Railroad: https://picasaweb.google.com/105171197567394309177/SacramentoDay2AndRoaringCampRailroad

I forgot to get a picture of my hostel as I left.

Sacramento, Day 2

So, after walking about a mile to the Crocker--I got some cool pictures--I found out it was not free, but actually $8 (student discount FTW). Oh well. It worked out, because while I chose it at random for monetary purposes, it turns out that Crocker was one of the Big Four of the Transcontinental Railroad and the Central Pacific--one of the ones This is really bad, because I've been reading that section of my train book for the past three days, and they do nothing but talk about the Big Four, and I learned all about the Big Four yesterday. I just really suck at connections, I guess? It also occurred to me that the tram lines in the San Francisco MUNI system are named after famous railroad people--for example, the Judah line that I rode to get to the Presidio is probably named after Theodore Judah, the guy who pretty much forced the transcontinental railroad to be built. I just put that together yesterday during the really bad movie. I'm super dense. I'm going to chalk it up to the time change...

Anyway, the Crocker was really nice. It's tiny-ish in feel but I guess is pretty big in reality. The Crockers traveled Europe and, while doing so, got a lot of art. They brought it back, and turned half of their home into a museum for everyone else to see it, too. So, there's a little bit of everything, from some head-hunting African tribe's totem-eqsu poles to American Impressionist art of the 1800s and Modern Art from today. I decided I'd do a tour, since I had no idea what I was doing. All I knew about the museum was that it had some pottery, which I thought I'd check out eventually.

Our tour had 6 people in it, and the tour guide seemed very interested in the older  family of 4 that was with us, so I just kind of hung out for a bit. She was very nice and very knowledgeable. The family peeled off when we got to the potter--the son was a potter, apparently--so that left just me and Tom. Tom apparently takes this tour regularly, because the tour guide (whose name I can't remember, sadly. I think it was Cathy. Or Cindy. I'm going to call her Cathy) knew him immediately and kept mentioning "Well, Tom knows this already, but..." before telling us information about the artifact we were looking at. Tom was older, maybe late 40s early 50s, and I found out later that he had an art background. Once it was just the two of us, the tour got really interesting. We went into a mural room with the Big 4 pictured, and that's when I made the connection to the Crocker museum and Crocker, the VP of the Central Pacific Railroad.

Cathy asked me why I was her, and I told her that I just had a general interest in art, and that I was really here for train history. That got all three of us talking, and I explained that my book made Crocker seem like kind of a jerk and a swindler, but this museum and the train museum was making the Big 4 out to be good guys who made a lot of money with a railroad. This Museum was supposed to be Crocker giving back to his community. We got into a fun discussion for a bit about the difference between a shyster (as Tom called General Sutter) and a good businessman, as Cindy called the Big 4. I'm sure Crocker was a combination of both, but it is really interesting to hear the way that people talk about him around here versus what I'm reading in my book.

I told them about The Painted Cabernet in Santa Barbara, which I'm really looking forward to, and we just had a good little hour walking and talking. There was a room of china and teapots, which I refrained from taking of because I figured there's only so many people can see before they get bored.

I ate lunch at the museum, figuring it was just as good a deal as any of the other places within walking distance, and it had the added bonus of being right there. I went back up to the museum to see just a few exhibits that we went through quickly, and then went back to Old Sacramento for one last jaunt. It was supposed to be rainy today, and yet it was beautiful and finally cool--somewhere around 73 degrees and sunny--so I wanted to walk a little more. I bought my hat and had a little too much fun at the bulk candy story. There were four in Old Sac, and I found the one that had the cheapest prices. Of course, they don't have scales up, so I thought I had a lot less than I really did. That's OK, though, because now my sweet tooth is going to be satisfied for at least the rest of the trip, if not through all of my Pittsburgh trip too!

I ended up taking almost a 3 hour nap this afternoon, entirely not intending to, but I guess I needed it. Tomorrow I do Roaring Camp Railroad, and Rachel and I are going to see Joss Whedon's Wiliiam Shakespeare's Much Ado About Nothing tomorrow night. Joss said if Much Ado doesn't do as well as Avengers this weekend, he'd kill Agent Colson again. So, go see the movie, people.

Pictures forthcoming! Crappy internet!

Bye!
Bethie

What's the best use of one's daily food budget?

You don't think it's bulk candy and a hat?

I think it's bulk candy and a hat.

:)

Sacramento, Day 1

The internet here is particularly unreliable, so I am going to type this all out in Word first and then upload when I get the chance. Hopefully, I get a couple individual posts in; we’ll have to see.

So: Yesterday, Saturday, was Old Sacramento, a very touristy place right next to the California State Train Museum. It’s funny, because Old Sacramento is also a state park, but there are so many tourist trap things to buy, and some things that I would assume are offensive, like the white guy dressed up as the Native American who was making balloon animals for kids waiting in line for the train. I don’t know, maybe that isn’t weird.

The ride to Sacramento was great. Rachel dropped me off at at Santa Clara a little early, so I got to sit in the sun for a while before I got on the train. I ended up getting the entire top of the front car to myself for about 45 minutes, which made me a lot more excited than it probably should have. I went a little crazy taking pictures of the hills that we went by. They came out a lot nicer than I thought they would; due to the internet, they aren’t uploading very well, but we’ll get there!

I then walked to the California State Train Museum, and went to get my tickets for the 45 minute train ride up and down the Sacramento River (that’s for looking that one up for me, Momma). I had reserved tickets for the special El Dorado car, which was an old-timey refurbished first class car from the 1930s ish. Everyone around me had kids and grand kids, and when the conductor asked for my will call name and brought me my ticket, he said, “Only one?!” and then tried not to sound surprised and gave me this big smile. Standing in line for the first class boarding (I felt so cool), a family of six or seven was in front of me: two grandparents, two parents, and two or three kids. I tried to talk to them, but they pretty much ignored me. I wanted to ask what brought them all to the train, and if it was just Old Sacramento or if they were doing the train museum too, and just generally why they were taking the ride. That did not happen. Behind me were two grandparents with either a young daughter and her kid or two grandkids, one oldish. Also ignored. I tried not to take it personally. I figured once I was on the train, I’d be seated with people, and we’d all be forced to talk.

Once we got on the train, I sat in an open-ish car. The family of seven went to the booth in the back and didn’t talk to anyone except themselves. The family of four sat at a four person table. This left me with the eight seats by the windows. I sat facing the other seats, even though it didn’t give me the best view, figuring that would give me the best way to talk to people. A group of about five older women came in and started to sit down. Again, trying not to take it personally, but I’m pretty sure they looked at me, saw they weren’t going to just get their own private space, and so decided to move to the next car.

This is how I ended up sitting with the foreign older couple (who I think were speaking German, but it might have been Dutch) and an older man and his twin four year olds, one boy, one girl. They were adorable. The dad kept telling the two kids to sit on my side of the car so they could see out the window, but they didn’t want to sit next to me (somehow, this hurt less than the adults who didn’t want to share a space). We all kind of smiled at each other, and I figured I wouldn’t get many people to talk to in this ride, so I’d just have to enjoy looking out the window at the river and think of other things to write about.

“I like your bowtie,” the little girl said.

“My what?” I asked.

“Your bowtie,” she said, pointing at my neck. (It’s worth noting that they both had those high pitched little kid voices, and so they were pretty hard to understand until I got used to them. So I had no idea she was saying bowtie).

I looked to the dad for a little assistance, and he said, “That’s not a bowtie, that’s a necklace, sweetie.”

“I like your necklace,” the little girl said.

“Oh, thank you,” I replied. “I like your hat.” She was wearing a baseball cap with flowers on it, and the more I looked, the more I realized it had the San Fransisco logo on it although for baseball or basketball I just wasn’t sure.

“I just realized it’s for the baseball team,” I said, trying anyway. “It’s very cleverly hidden with all those flowers. It’s very pretty.”

And that cemented our friendship forever. The kids broke the ice, saying crazy things and being generally adorable—they were extremely well behaved, and while extremely energetic, they weren’t running all over the place. They just liked to move. This is what made them adorable. As they got more comfortable, they started climbing over to my side of the car. Dad and I talked a little more and more, and eventually, I found out that his grandfather worked for the B & O railroad, and he grew up in a railroad town, and so he just had an interest in trains. He also knew what he was talking about. We discussed Amtrak for a while, and the routes I was taking, and he said he always wanted to ride the California Zephyr down the coast, but he had just never gotten a chance.

“I like your flip flops,” the little girl would say.

“We’re both pink!” she said, pointing at my shirt (technically, it was salmon, but I didn’t really think we needed to split hairs).

“My brother can’t eat nuts. He gets sick,” she told the conductor as he brought us cookies and bottled water (another perk of first class).

The ride ended up being kind of lame. They played information over the loudspeaker as we went—“The transcontinental railroad allowed for all kinds of jobs here in Sacramento,” a guy who sounded suspiciously like Al Borland from Home Improvement would bellow, and then give some relevant facts. I tried to record them all, because it was really hard to write it all down and I was having more fun with the kids and their dad.

When it was time to go, I let a lot of the families get off first because they had carts and were big and I had my backpack and my back hurt so I was trying to delay the amount of time I just stood, waiting for the line to move, with it on my back. The dad and the kids left, but about two seconds later the little girl ran back into the room and said “Bye,” and then gave me the cutest little hip hug. It kind of made my day.

I wandered around Old Sacramento after that, looking for the best possible deal on food. I ended up at a little sports bar in the middle of the “city,” where I just plopped down my bag and got a turkey sandwich and some water. There was a soccer game going (Mexico vs. Japan) so I watched that. There were 3 Japanese-looking businessmen watching the game intently, which is why I think they were Japanese and not Chinese. There was a bit of a raucous bunch at the bar, but I ignored them for the most part.

Until they started playing with the punching machine right behind my table.

Perhaps you know what I’m talking about; I’ve seen this machine in other bars. It’s just a big machine with a punching bag—the little ball kind, that looks like the thing that hangs down your throat—and the point is for drunk people to see how hard they can punch it. I was enjoying my lunch and thinking out the rest of the afternoon when there was this monumental WHAM behind me.

Somehow, I managed not to jump, but it sounded like someone had hit a wall with a chair, or slammed through the door or something. But no, it was just the guys from the bar trying to see who could punch harder. They continued this for about 10 minutes, and were still going when I left. The one kept yelling “This things broke, yo” because it said he wasn’t hitting very hard. Another guy, who I saw from the corner of my eye had blonde dreads and a small beard on just his chin, just getting long enough to curl under, kept ribbing the first guy, and then they ended up in friendly drunken competition.

“Oh man, that was just the top of my fist. Just the top,” one would say when his score wasn’t high.

“Oh man, we’ve got a lefty! Where’s the lefty!” the blonde dreads guy yelled a lot.

“This one’s broke. I’ve gotten 900 before. I’ve done it,” one of them said. The first guy said it was broken a lot, but the blonde might have joined in because the both started going for over 900. When they got it, the entire bar except me and the Japanese guys (and the waitress/barkeep, who was absolutely not amused) cheered for them.

I finished my food and went to the museum. I took the long walk, walking through the rest of Old Sacramento looking for a fedora. I did not find one. The museum started with a quick 20 minute video that looked like it was made in the 70s/80s about how important the transcontinental railroad was. It gave some of the same basic information I’ve been reading about in my history of trains book, but it was so incredibly whitewashed I found myself wanting to scream. One of the “modern” quotes was from a guy who was being interviewed with the sole female engineer-in-charge-of-something-bigger-than-just-one-train at the time “Well, I’ve been working the trains for over fifty years, and I’d have to say one of the most significant changes was the steam to diesel engine…and now look, women can be engineers, too.” It was just the most ridiculous thing I’d heard. Sure, that was a great moment for women, but it had nothing to do with trains and their development in terms of what they guy had been saying. It was just the weirdest non sequitur. They also did this random shot of a Native American looking over a valley where a train was riding through for the beginning, which was the end of the discussion of the Native Americans, and had a quick “Without the Chinese, we never could have done this!” moment. The big four responsible for the transcontinental railroad were represented as cigar chomping white men, with one being stereotypically fat, one being stereotypically quiet and easily shut up, one being a mustache twirling jerk, and one being somewhat idealistic and partly cigar chompy. It was just a very weird movie.

The rest of the museum was alright; I found that it was an overly simplistic way to get a lot of the information I was getting in my book. I did like looking at all of the trains, though, and seeing the different kinds that there were. Still, other than the movie, nothing really stirred my blood, and the kids in the museum were getting to me.

I walked to my hostel, the Sacramento Hostel, and got my room. The Hostel itself is really nice, and I’ll let you know if I get bedbugs or something, but as of now I’m really happy with it. My room, however, is called the Nugget, and boy they weren’t kidding. It is just slightly wider than my door. I don’t need much, sure, but if I was claustrophobic, I would be having problems. I walked to 58 Degrees and Holding, a wine bar, for dinner, and got a really delicious 4 cheese mac and cheese for dinner with a glass of Proseco, because I was all worked up from walking a mile through town and kept thinking I was going to get jumped or get lost. It was pretty horrible; I had a really bad headache once I got to the restaurant, and my hands were shaking really badly. I just really can’t do downtowns, man!  I came home, I got my shower. Two girl scouts were showering as I came in to brush my teeth (did I mention this hostel has shared bathrooms? We have shared bathrooms.) and one thought the other was playing a trick on her. 

“What are you doing?” she yelled out of the shower.

“Nothing,” the other yelled.  

“Then what was the bang?” the first asked.

“There are other people in the hostel,” I said, not rudely I swear, “There’s someone else in here.”

“You don’t sound like a 13-14 year old,” the first said.

“No, it just some ugly old lady,” the second said, and they both giggled. “Not that I know what she looks like.”

“Gee. Thanks,” I said and left. BEDTIME.

This morning, there were two troops of girl scouts in the downstairs. They were loud and obnoxious. I can say obnoxious, because the table of girls next to me all put their heads together and whispered really fast and quickly, and then called over one of the other girls to explain to her that they kicked her out of their room yesterday because it was “quiet time” and she had walked in and was loud. They never told her they hated her. And they laughed when she left because someone had said something funny. And the girl had woken up one of the other girls, “and she hates being woken up.” It was so mean, and it took me back to middle school, and I just wanted to yell at them all that they weren’t cool, and they needed to get over themselves. Of course, that doesn’t ever work, so I just drank my tea quietly.

For the rest of the day, I’m going to a free art museum. They have a pottery exhibit, which I think is cool. And did I mention Free? It’s supposed to start raining this afternoon, which is going to cramp my walking style a bit, but will give me time to read.

Tomorrow, back to San Francisco via Roaring Camp Railroad, another touristy railroad trap. Whee! 

Not the best picture...

Double decker. :)

On my way to Sacramento!

Double decker train car all to myself! :-D

Pictures! The Presidio edition

Here's a link to my picasa web album, with some of my favs from The Presidio.

https://picasaweb.google.com/105171197567394309177/ThePresidio

San Francisco, Day 1

Good morning, everyone!

This is long. I apologize. Please remember that you never have to read the whole thing. The way I'm thinking I'll set this up is that I'll have more "Here's what happened in crazy detail!" posts, and then I'll have more "When this happened, it made me think/feel/do this" posts. Those second type will be a little shorter and maybe more interesting. These first type are supposed to help me remember what happened, too, and they're kind of more like a journal. So...GO.

Yesterday, I was all plucky and went to San Francisco by myself. Having dealt with Hannover trains and transfers and big transfer stations, I figured I'd be OK. I was trying to get to the Presidio, which was only going to require a CalTrain, the regional train system that got me up to San Francisco from Menlo Park, where I'm staying; a quick transfer to a MUNI subway/above ground train; and finally a quick walk and then a transfer to the Presidio Presidigo free bus shuttle. I knew all the numbers and stops, had googled mapped it the night before, and had google maps going in my ear via my headphones so it didn't look like I was being too touristy but so that I could still hear if I was going the wrong way (thanks again, Daddio, for that advice. Even if it did pertain to sleasy taxicabs). So, the point is, there may have been a bump or two, but this was generally supposed to be the easy day of the trip.

The first part of the trip went fine. I got on my double decker train with no issue--Double decker communter train, guys! I know I shouldn't be this excited, but I just think that is so cool. I got to ride a double decker regional in Germany with Uncle Wolfie, but that was a long ride and an expensive ticket. Amtrak's double deckers are only for long hauls.

It's when I hit San Fransisco that things got a little dicey. I wanted to go to a Walgreen's to get a Clipper card, which is a ticket that would get me reduced fares and could be used on all of the transit systems in the city. I got turned around coming out of the station, and almost walked into two or three homeless people, quite literally sprawled out on the ground in front of me, one leaning on a trash can. Everyone around me was OK with this. I was taken aback. Pittsburgh has homeless people, but from what I've seen they aren't that noticeable. Maybe, too, it was the fact that it was about 10:00 AM when I got there, and I kind of expected them to be up and doing things, not sprawled out asleep? Anyway, it was jarring, and was my first taste of the city of San Francisco.

I got myself turned the right way, and found the Walgreens I was looking for, got my card, all that. I left the building, and got back to the Caltrain station. I was supposed to take the N train on the MUNI light rail, but I realized I didn't know what stop to get off at. So I sat down on a bench and started figuring it out with my phone, trying to look at the MUNI website, and Google maps, and the Presidio website, but nothing was working on my phone. While I wasn't completely panicked, I was getting upset and nervous about all the people around me. I went and looked at actual, physical maps on the wall, and decided I looked too touristy again (a fear I have, since I think that tourists get attacked more than not-tourists), so I went back to my bench. I had finally decided I would just get on the train and just ride it until I was bored and then I'd go home, Presidio be damned, when I saw the most welcome of sights, a sight that brought warmth to my heart and joy to my belly:

A Panera was nestled just across the street from me, with the MUNI station right between us. I would never lose eye contact with any of my destinations, and I would be safe inside a place where people routinely check their phones and mutter to themselves.

I went in, got a bagel and some tea to give me something to do, and got my phone to work. I finally just put the addresses in my Google maps app, and of course, it started telling me where to go, and how many stops I had until I was supposed to get off. It even calculated the fare for me. I threw away my trash in the compost bin by accident (there were 5 to choose from. I was confused) and headed out.

Since my MUNI train left from CalTrain Station, albeit on a platform across the street, I thought it was part of the CalTrain system, and that the day pass I had bought before leaving that morning would work. However, as I sat and calmed down a bit, it occurred to me that there were fares prices taped all over the place, and everyone who came in was paying the conductor $2. So then I started worrying, because I only had $2.00 in cash, and if I was supposed to pay, I would need that for the ride home (I forgot about my clipper card). And if I wasn't supposed to pay, I would have wasted my $2. I kept waiting for the conductor to yell at me, but he was oblivious, and I didn't want to ask any of the other passengers what to do because they were all stoically and pointedly not looking at each other. So I just sat there and when my stop came, I got off. By the time I was leaving I was like 99% sure I was supposed to have given them $2, but then I was worried that if I paid on the way out I would still get yelled at and have to pay the fine, and being all Joe Cool had been working for me up to this point. So basically, I stole a ride. I'm sorry, MUNI of California.

I got out at the busy Embarcardero stop, and handled it like a champ, only balking once at the automated out gate, worried that since I didn't pay on the train I was going to be stuck forever. I wasn't. When I got out, there was a woman standing at the top of the stairs holding a sign that said "Lost Everything But My Dog--Please Help" and, of course, there was an adorable little dog, smaller than Sadie, with a cute little ink dog jacket on. It was chilly enough to need it, and it was kind of shabby. Everyone else was ignoring her, and I did too, because I was sure I was going to start crying if I didn't. A little further down, a woman was handing out free SmartFood samples--they have new foods and new flavors. A lot of people were stopping for the free food. I didn't, because I didn't have anywhere to put it. Beyond that, someone had set up a shabby looking shoeshine spot, and there were some piles of coats and stuff shoved in a corner, so I assumed the operator was homeless, or a homeless person lived there.

I spent the next hour looking for a bus stop that doesn't exist. I walked a two block radius about 5 times, all because my GPS couldn't make up its mind and kept telling me I was 500 feet to the left. I'm pretty sure all of the business people eating at the outdoor cafes thought I was insane. There was a ton of construction around the place where I was supposed to go for the Presidigo bus, and no Panera for me to hide in and figure things out. After about 45 minutes I finally got my phone to download the Presidio website, and there was a huge "SHUTTLE STOP MOVED" alert on the front page, which I somehow missed in my scouting the night before, or forgot about. Of course, I read the map of the move wrong, so I was going the opposite direction when I saw the bus zoom by, late to its pick up. On the plus side, I knew what the bus looked like now, so I could keep an eye out for it when I found the actual stop, which was three blocks down from the original spot. On the down side, I was about five blocks away from the new spot.

I missed the bus by about 5 minutes, which meant I had about an hour to wait for the next one. I considered just calling it a day at this point; the city was so loud, and everyone was so involved in themselves, and I kept passing homeless people, and all I could think about was my $2 cash and my half-eaten bagel and how pitiful it would be to give them that. Very few seemed to be begging, too, which made me wonder if they had just given up or what; most were just sprawled out sleeping. In the park that I waited for the bus at, there were two or three groups of homeless just sleeping, with carts full of their stuff. One guy had luggage, and I saw a woman sleeping with a dog that looked like a skinnier, smaller, brown Sadie. And no one seemed to be paying attention. This was around the Embarcadero, which seemed like a huge tourist attraction, and right across the street from the Hyatt or the Wyndam or something, and so I was just really mad and sad that people just walked around and ignored the 5 sleeping homeless people right outside of their tourist picture. Of course, so did I. It made me feel really helpless, which made me feel worse, because if I felt helpless, how did these people feel? Oh, it was a spiral of guilt that just kept on going, making me feel worse and worse about the whole morning. I sat down in the grass and mulled about it for a while, getting grass stains on my pants, and then feeling guilty that I was mad about grass stains on my pants when the poor little brown dog was starving to death.

Eventually, I decided that I would wait until noon; if the bus didn't come by then, I would go home.

The bus did come, and I made it to the Presidio around noon. I'm glad I went; it was really calming and relaxing. There were almost no people there, or at least it seemed that way, and there was so much open green space that I finally felt like I could breathe. It was my kind of nature, too: well groomed, paved sidewalks, landscaped hills and man-made ponds. I stayed there for about two hours; I walked up to a scenic overlook to see the Golden Gate Bridge and the Bay; I think I saw Alcatraz. I walked down and back to the Palace of Fine Arts, and just spent some time sitting and decompressing. I was able to relax. My phone was dying, so as soon as I had gotten on the bus, I had turned it off. I took some pictures, but they didn't really hit the quiet feel of the place. Apparently, I was sitting in Lucasfilm's garden and didn't know it. It was very pretty.

The ride home was uneventful. I just retraced my steps, picking up some free Smart popcorn this time, and despite going to the train, not the subway, section of MUNI, I got back to CalTrain with no problems. An old man on the train told me I looked pretty--"You are a fine looking young lady"--which was nice, although he was old and scruffy and possibly lecherous, so I snuggled up to the Chinese woman and her really loud son when we got off the train and followed them into the station. Honestly, that was the most direct conversation that I had with a person all day, minus ordering my food and giving two people directions.

When I got home, I told  Rachel about the two homeless women with dogs I had seen, and she told me that homelessness was a huge problem in San Francisco. We got pizza for dinner and drank wine (Well, I did) and watched Chuck while Rachel worked on a presentation for work. I'm kind of amazed by how much the day took out of me. Navigating downtown was really tough, tougher than I remember Hanover being. Of course, I'm sure I was crying the first time I tried to do Hanover alone, but for whatever reason then I felt like I could go up to people and ask for help. Ironic, since I always started it with "Entschuldigung, mein Deutsch ist nicht so gut. Sprechen Sie English?" Here, people actually spoke English and I felt like there was no one to help. 

Today, I was supposed to go into San Francisco again. I walked close to 5 miles yesterday, and my knee was giving me issues last night. It cost me around $18 to get around the city, and that was just with one transfer that I actually paid for (the one one the way home). I'm going back in on Tuesday, and like I said, yesterday took a lot out of me. I decided I'd stay home and read books about trains, and do this write up, which has taken me almost an hour and a half now, and possibly wander around Menlo Park. Tomorrow, I leave for Sacramento and the California State Railroad Museum. I'm excited; I signed up for a special train ride through a redwood forest (not the Redwood forest) on a Steam Powered locomotive with 1930s special riding car or something. Sunday, I might go back, or I'll find something else to do in Sacramento. I'll post some more pictures here of yesterday's Presidio trip! 

Thanks for reading! 
Bethie 

Double decker train!

Explanation of what is going on here.

So, most of you already know what's up, but those that don't: it's actually pretty straightforward.

I got to design my own travel independent study class for Chatham. I knew that I wanted to ride trains places, and my original plan had been to take a month-long trip around the US--Atlanta, New Orleans, El Paso, LA, The Grand Canyon, Chicago, then home. It was going to be a lot. Amtrak offers special tickets, but still, it was going to be a long trip. Exciting, but long, especially since I am back in Pittsburgh for the first two weeks of August for more Chatham classes.

Then my friend Rachel moved to California.

Amtrak has a special pass that lets you go to 7 stops within 21 days for only $159 (to give you an idea, that was pretty much the price of my ticket from San Francisco to Santa Barbara. So that's an awesome deal). Making San Francisco (which I've apparently been spelling wrong this ENTIRE TIME) my home base, I'm going to go to Sacramento for a weekend (this upcoming one, actually), Santa Barbara for a few days next week, and Napa Valley a few other days next week. In between it all, I'll be exploring San Francisco.

I'm doing all of this with a focus on trains; trains are such a cool way to travel, and so few people actually use them. I have some books to read--I just go Murder on the Orient Express, and Strangers on a Train, as well as a few memoirs and informational books--while I'm doing this all, so I'll be peppering in fun stuff from all of that as well. Each city I chose has a train something or other; Sacramento has the California State Railroad Museum, for example. Rachel and I are doing a Napa Valley Wine Train tour.  I'm taking a sleeper car home from Santa Barbara.

So overall, this is what is happening. Follow along, don't follow along, whatever makes you happy. :) I'll be trying to tell what I do each day, but I don't promise that my posts will always be awesome and coherent (see last post; I'm really kind of out of it right now). Have a great day!

Bethie

I'm in California :)

Good afternoon, East Coast. West Coast, good morning. :)

I'm officially in California. Rachel and I got in around 1:00 last night (West Coast times from here on out, although I will note that was 4:00 for me, and I had been up since 8:00 the day before. So I was tired).

I had two chances to practice my talking-to-people skills. At one point, a nice little old lady told me she thought I was from Portland because I was wearing leggings under my dress, and I had on a scarf. (I said thank you.) She seemed very nice; she kept talking even though it was clear I was trying to read my book. At one point, when I looked back down and tilted my Kindle screen more to my face, she said, "Reading a book?" You'll all be proud to know I did not answer "Nope, milking a cow" or something equally sarcastic. She told me that she had actually missed a flight Monday, and then the flight they put her on yesterday was canceled, and so they put her on my flight to San Fransisco so that she could hopefully get a flight from here to Portland--so pretty  much, she'd been traveling for over 24 hours, and wouldn't be home for at least another 24, and they wouldn't even get her a hotel. We talked for a few minutes about traveling and delayed planes; I told her where I was going and why I was flying and what I'd do once I got here. I probably should have taken the opportunity to really talk to her more as practice, but I didn't. I felt weird.  After just a few minutes, I called Mom to talk to her.

Then, on the plane, I got put next to a woman and her son. I had been watching the little boy--maybe 2 or 3? I'm bad at judging kid ages--move pretty much nonstop for two hours while we waited at our gate. He was up at the window, he was running between the chairs, he was just swinging his arms and legs and twirling around. He wasn't really loud, but you could tell this kid had energy. So, when I got seated with them, I was a little bummed.

HOWEVER. Turns out this kid is a traveling champ. He had out a "journal"; "I'm going to write down everything I see," he told me. Of course, it was mostly crayon scribbles with some letters and words scattered in, but that's a journal, man! He told me he had flown to Disney Land before, and that he didn't think our plane was going to go very fast--"It's not a Superplane. It won't go zoom." I don't know the criteria for a super plane, because I thought we were going pretty fast. It turns out, too, that the kid's mom grew up in Monroeville. We had a nice time talking during lift off, and a little before they started serving drinks. They were traveling down the state, into Mexico. We talked about taking time off from jobs, and things we would do when we got where we were going. It was a lot of banal stuff, but it was also really easy to talk to her--a lot less weird than talking to the old lady in the waiting room.

Here's some thoughts/funnies from the airport yesterday:

-I've been wondering when a trip actually starts. I've packed for this a few times now, I've been planning it for a while, making reservations and buying tickets for about two months. I left the house at 1:00 today; is that when I started? Will it start when I hit the actual plane, get in the air? Or when I’m in San Francisco?  

-When I got to the desk to check in, the woman asked me where I was going, and I was caught completely off guard. I completely forgot where I was going. All I could think was “Seattle”. The woman laughed at me and was like, “…really?”

-There were some trucks and SUVs that were seemingly chasing a plane on a throughway out the window. I’m pretty sure it’s just a trick of the angles, but it was fun for a second to think that the FBI was chasing down a plane (it was small enough to not be international. Unless it was going to Canada, I guess. The point is, it would be the FBI in my story, not the CIA. Local, not international, spies). Running form money fraud, probably. Stolen insurance, or bank robbery. One of the trucks had a blinking yellow light on top, which made it even more fun. 

Today, I'm getting some homework done, and then Rachel and I are going to go to get me some food for the trip. Tomorrow: San Fransisco! I haven't decided which part, yet....

Cheers!