8 minutes

8 minutes.

I don't sleep very well.  Too many happy hour margaritas possibly, or nerves at being on the move again.  Not sure.  But both Sam and I are awake early.  Which is good, I force everyone up and through the shower.  I am nervous about getting the Subway to the airport, I don't know how long it is going to take, or even whether the route I think will get us there, WILL get us there.  

I think it is safe to say it was simply the most stressful journey I have ever taken, the subway trains do not arrive, they are slow, we have to change, the airport train stops and starts  ARGHHGGHHHHHH.  I tell Sam we are just not going to make our flight to San Francisco and start plan my tears at the check in desk.  We approach the terminal (4, 4!!!) and run as fast as we can.....pushing people it of the way, kicking kids off elevators that kind of thing....I jam the passport in the self check in kiosk, it's stuck, ARGGGGGGGHHHHHHH... And then an angel appears, another kind New Yorker rescues us, tells me to calm down, we have a whole 8 minutes....it will all be ok.  And it is. And we are on the plane going on holiday again. 

This journey seems longer... But we do have the best stewards on the plane, whereas the ones on the flight to NY were soooo cool, the ones on this flight are sooooo friendly! The lead (head, main man- what do you call them?) comes and chats to Sam for ages and is just lovely! 

SF looks and feels different from the moment we step off the plane, the colours are sharper, the air is sharper (and colder....)  the houses we can see from the train are so colourful.  Totally different feel....but our first introduction to the city is not the best.  Our instructions say get off the BART at 16th & Mission.... And this is not where you would advise anyone to get off. Now this is what I imagined New York would be like, rough, drug dealers on the streets, crack addicts, filthy scraggy people and a feeling of really not being safe.  We quickly jump a cab to Castro, which is gorgeous, but we never quite get that feeling out of our minds.... And we see it everywhere.  The homeless and the drugged out, in the tube stations, on the streets, hassling everyone, generally being mad.  It makes me feel on edge in a way I wasn't expecting from here at all.

Our apartment is wonderful, beautiful and at the top of a crazy hill! From here you can see over what seems to be the whole of the city and WOW the hills!!! I have never seen hills like this, virtually vertical and wow...the struggling up them! Hilarious.

We get straight out there, stopping for a brief refuelling... God the boys are hot *sigh* .  This part I was hoping for, gorgeous gay young boys... Being fabulous.... Lots of rainbow flags....ultra ultra ULTRA sigh....

.  And we decide to be tourists....jump on the F, which is the trolley car, all retro 50's styling all the way down to Fishermans Wharf.  Yes. Was Fishermans Wharf designed by Disney?  It has a very Orlando feel to it, completed with the Bubba Gump Shrimp at the end....fun though.... The breeze whips around, the views out to Alcatraz look amazing and the sea lions are smelly and hilarious. Me and Daisy  indulge in extra large ice creams, which a seagull the appropriates from Daisy! All those years of living by the sea, only to have your ice cream stolen in SanFrancisco......

 Tired. Very tired, we manage a short walk around Union square, before retiring to the comforts of the biggest squishiest sofa, the biggest TV known to woman and a glass (or bottle it seems now I check this morning...) of Californian wine..... Ginger the cat looks thrilled to have Daisy return to stroke and make a fuss of her and Sam & I read the guide books to plan our adventures tomorrow.