Cadillac Ranch

One of our first main stops along the our trip was in Texas. When we left my house in Fontana late Saturday, I pretty much crashed out until we arrived in New Mexico for a quick bite to eat at McD's. From Alburqurque until Amarillo I was behind the wheel so not many pictures up until here.

This is one site that is in every travelling guide on Texas, Route 66, or eccentric things to see in the United States. So knowing that we were going to be so close, I told Jonathan that this was a must see on the trip and it didn't dissapoint. I was really suprised at how many people were out there checking out these cars and spray painting their names all over. There were probably thirty other people coming or going while we were there. I suppose in Texas this is tantamount to some kind of Cool California place to hang out.

A millionaire by the name of Stanley Marsh III built this tribute to the road. Cadillac ranch has become a mecca for travelers of the Mother Road (though it wasn't commissioned to be built until 1974 and is closer to I-40). There are 10 Cadillacs ranging from 1949-1964, that are placed with their ends up out in the middle of a field.

Vesuvio's

Our last stop was the infamous Vesuvio's Bar. This was the long ago hangout of Jack Kerouac and other great Beat poets. One night in History Kerouac a rising writer was suppose to meet with Henry Miller who rather enjoyed Kerouac's work, But Kerouac could not get away from Vesuvio's. He called Miller every hour telling him that he could not get out of the city. Kerouac decided to party hard that night instead of meeting up with the great Henry Miller; the two never did meet. Maybe this is why they put Kerouac alley right next to the establishment.

We went in an enjoyed a cappuccino, relaxed, and took in all the history. When we were leaving Jonathan noticed that they sold Absinthe; we were just talking about them allowing absinthe back into the states the day prior. So, we sat down at the bar and had a glass. The stuff taste like strong black licorice. It was a pretty cool drink, that had a weird drip system where you poured water (to lessen the impact) over a sugar cube. For some reason, I don't have any pictures, but I remember taking a couple...well that's absinthe for you!

that Bartender was really friendly, when we were leaving everyone (the bartender, a regular, and an old guy talking through a hole in his throat) in the bar wanted to how we heard about the place, why we had stopped in, and what we did for a living. The first two we had no problems answering; we were of course on the Beat Trail and had heard this was ground zero, the place to start or end the adventure. But Jonathan and I felt a little weird telling the generally liberal loving crowd that we worked for the MAN! I make sure that innocent people stay behind bars and Jonathan is a torturer of animals. Maybe, we were in the wrong place after all. The crowd had weird looks on their faces when they told them, but they were still a gracious host and invited us back.

Overall, Vesuvio's is a great place to stop for a drink, whether it's coffee or Absinthe.

Golden Afternoon on the Golden Gate

Hours before we headed home we decided that we really should walk the Golden Gate Bridge. On our way, we stopped at Mama's and ate an amazing breakfast, then jumped on a bus to make our trek across the water. It was a good time. I've wanted to walk the whole length of the bridge for a long time, so it was niceto have the opportunityto finally do so. Of course, I limped and gimped more than I did walking, but I made it through.

At the Start of the Bridge

I don't know why put this is my favorite angle

Octagon House

There is nothing great about this spot, except that I had read about the house on roadsideamerica.com and put this on my list of things to do and see if I had the chance. I really wasn't expecting to find the place, because it was away from everything else we were planning on doing that day. However, by coincidence we were walking blocks upon blocks which turned into miles upon miles looking for a cigar cutter and matches. Afterwards we decided to head to Haight-Ahsbury for some scrumptious dinner at Cha Cha Cha's. We feasted on Fried Calamari (my first time eating the things) and other kinds of Tapas, along with some Sangaria to wash it down. Somewhere in between finding the cigar cutters and Calamari we stumbled upon the house. It looks pretty cool from the outside, but why bother going in. I think they give a free tour (donations excepted) but we had other things to see.

This is what Fodor's says about the place:

This unusual, eight-sided, cupola-topped house dates from 1861 and is maintained by the National Society of Colonial Dames of America. Its design was based on a past theory that people living in a space of this shape would live longer, healthier lives. Inside is a small museum where you'll find Early American furniture, portraits, silver, pewter, looking glasses, and English and Chinese ceramics. There are also some historic documents, including signatures of 54 of the 56 signers of the Declaration of Independence. Even if you're not able to visit the inside, this atypical structure is worth a look from the outside.

Crooked Street

After checking out Coit Tower, we immediately walked to Lombard street; otherwise known as the crookedest street on the planet. This of course is a lie! It's not even the crookedest street in San Francisco. There is a less popular street that has Lombard beat hands down, but Lombard is in the tourist part of town, so it steals all the thunder. If I would have known about the other street prior to our trip, I would have walked that one instead.

In the first couple of pictures you can see the street that we walked from Coit tower to Lombard. It was a direct route, but very tiring. The picture where I'm on the ground is right before the curves of Lombard. I was already worn out from walking to the half way mark (I'm sure scaling Telegraph Hill didn't help matters). I don't really remember why, but for some reason we walked this hill twice in a couple of hours. I think I forgot the phone and wanted to send a picture to Faith of me and Pooh. Anyways, once was enough.

Are you kidding me??!!
A view from Lombard and the rarity of J.A. Deane taking a picture

Fire Nozzle Tower

I am trying to catch up on some long over due blogging. A little over six months a go I went to San Francisco on a quick one day trip to see the sights. I've posted three blogs detailing my trips, but I have lost the other two rough drafts I started, so instead of being all wordy about my little adventure I figured it would be better to just throw up the pics and give a little commentary.

This blog is of Coit Tower. We decided to walk instead of take the bus and found ourselves cascading up a series of endless stairs. Half way through I was beginning to believe there might be a purgatory. I was out of breath and begging for life, while Jonathan was mocking me the whole way. I probably would have beat him to a pulp and thrown him down the stairs but my fat butt couldn't catch him. At one point, near the top of the stairs my legs became jelly and literally gave out on me.

Oh yeah, there were parrots flying overhead too. Jonathan was as giddy as a school girl, because he had just seen a documentary on the parrots of Telegraph Hill a couple weeks prior.
This was just the beginning

At the top of the beginning of the stairs

1/3 of the way Running out of breath

Once we got to the tower though, I wanted to go the whole distance! My plan was to walk up to the top. My travel guides stated that this would be an acceptable option. However, the tiny Asian lady behind the counter told us that this was incorrect; the stairs were out of order! So we had to pay the $4-5 bucks to take the elevator. The biggest slap in the face though, was getting on the elevator and seeing a tip jar! Are you insane!? I just paid you $5 bucks to ride this thing!

Coit Tower was built in 1933 when Lillie Coit bequeathed one-third of her estate for it to be built. Some say it's in the design of a fire nozzle, because she had such an affinity for the fire department during her day. Inside the tower the murals were inspired and commissioned during the Great Depression.

After telling all this, I must say, the place was a let down. The trial of ascending Telegraph Hill was much more interesting than the final destination.
The View of from the Tower
Some of the murals
Finally done

A Tourist Wanders San Francisco- Part 3: Zinfandel Afternoon

Next we meander down Columbus St., a heavy Italian dominated community- they are people all around speaking their native tongue or heavy accented English. Jonathan is reminiscing on his younger days of strolling Spain and Mediterranean worlds.

Famished we stopped at a corner café Mario’s Café and Cigar Bar. It has long been without the fragrant aroma of a cigar but every tourist book I have come across raves madly about eating here. A hip north-beacher with French mustachio, scruffy beard that lead to a small pointing goatee wearing a fedora was our server, friendly but too hip to offer recommendations to traveling tourist. That’s ok we make our choices and there worth the wait- mine, tasty focaccia bread packed with Italian meat slices.

I have to go the bathroom so I head to the back. The toilet is in a closet under a staircase, it’s so small and cramped that I actually have to lean back to fit into the closet. I’m doing Pilates to urinate!

After lunch we head into the beating heart of North Beach, the essence, the life of the district. True Beat meanings live and shed light on this shady part San Francisco. City Lights Books is still there. It has existed and fought the Man from its beginning. In the window are still signs that they are standing strong in there fight – Shame on you Bush!

We walk in; I close my eyes for a brief moment hoping to hear muses from yesteryear speak softly in inaudible voices. Nothing. My fingers walk along covers that I have never read from authors I have never heard in sections not found on your local Barnes and Nobles shelves. My feet trudge up the stairs, I flip through picture books of bygone eras when this was the heart of cool; post-war kids.

City lights bookstore was not only a bookstore but a publishing company as well. They published Ginsberg, Burroughs,and Firaghetti; they have stood up for Americans’ right for free speech. It is an American Bookstore.

Here I stand, looking and listening for the great muses to speak golden meanings in this squalid part of town. Nothingness is all I hear. I suppose this is their great meaning screaming into my ear. I refuse to hear.

Kerouac Alley is behind City Lights, it’s funny what use to be a soiled alley littered with trash, tom cats, and drunken poets vomiting is now a cobbled alley with bronze quotes from great authors paving the way- a tribute to San Francisco’s adopted drunkard of a son. One sign rings true – in the company of best friends, there is never enough wine.

We head over to the Beat Museum across the street, in the middle of San Francisco strip joints.
“Legs, Breast and thighs, come and get our lunch special,” yells a young Hispanic man trying to lure starving men. The Beat Museum cost $5 to walk through, which sounds completely contrary, so we forsake nostalgia for the trail and head back to The Grant Hotel.

Jonathan brought two bottles of wine from Monterey; we open one up and drink out of clear plastic, hotel bathroom cups. I drift off into a catnap while Jonathan rehearses Science speakeasy, TLR7 and mice brutality.

Zinfandel Afternoon.

Cross Country

TonightI will be traveling on the longest road trip of my life. My friend Jonathan is driving a car from California to Maryland; Jim and I have decided to tag along and see some of the country. The plan is to set out on a 14-hour drive to Amarillo Texas; eat at the Big Texan and see some of local sights like the Cadillac Ranch. Then we are heading to the glory of Memphis to ponder Graceland, Sun studios, and Beale St. Afterwards it’s quick stops in Tupelo, Birmingham, and Hotlanta. We then will make our way down into the heart of Southern Hospitality as we linger in Charleston, where we view where the War of Northern Aggression began, then to the heart of the Confederacy Capital Richmond. We will then take our weary weakened traveling legs up to Maryland and I will relax for a couple of hours before boarding a plane to come home.

I’ll put more details of my trip upon my return.