Well folks, we decided to live in San Francisco.
We awake each morning to the lively squeels and grunts of the garbage truck and its minions as they descend upon the city around 6am. Shortly thereafter its coffee and showers, a quick stretch and we hit the pavement on our eternal quest for housing. Craigslist has been invaluable (that means really helpful Philip) and we would be nowhere without it. Unfortunately owning a dog means 90% of the housing market wants nothing to do with you and of that left over 10% easily half only wants to deal with dogs up to 25 pounds. This means that Mazzy is now on the Paris Hilton diet- but don't worry PETA fans- it's only until we sign a lease and then we'll put the weight back on.
My current favorite apartment right now is an Edwardian mansion with sweeping views of the city from not one but 2 massive bay windows. The great thing about Edwardian mansions is that no one lives above you, the bad part- they are expensive- about $1700 for 500 square feet- and this one is only 4 blocks from the projects. But this is San Francisco so the projects aren't that bad. The crack dealers wave as you roll by and the pimps and hos only get aggressive when you try to take pictures.
Yesterday Ang and I ran for about 8 miles around the base of the Golden Gate Bridge with our host and personal guide in the city, Matt. We came in from the east side which is generally sunny with throngs of people playing on small bits of sandy beach and out in the bay windsurfers and kitesurfers plyed the water amongst the sailboats. As we ran up to the bridge it disappeared into the fog so rather than run across it in zero visibility we headed back to a waterfront bar and found an establishment with 68 beers on tap. There is nothing like a beer after a good run. From there we jogged to Nan Kings Chinese Restaurant which is basically the Soup Nazi with amazing Chinese food. We got a table right away and then watched the restaurant fill up in a matter of minutes until there was a line of 15 people out the door by the time we left. The kitchen was piled high with produce and the 8 cooks that worked in back had so little room to move they just passed things around when they needed something. It was fast, efficient, delicious service- a stunning change from the sleepy streets of Girdwood.
From there we eased ourselves into some old bar that Jack Kerouac apparently used to get drunk in. The bartender was surly and the atmosphere was great so I ordered an Irish Coffee and it was easily the best I've ever had. Our view from upstairs was out into the red light district where tourists checked out Larry Flint's Hustler Club among others. But at this point we decided to head back to Matt's via a few stunning overlooks of the city.
It was grand.