SF Trip Installment One: I left my heart in San Francisco . . .

Ah, what a splendid trip! Uneventful flight to San Fran, which sped by remarkably quickly. Found my rental car (a silver Sebring convertible, with which to enjoy open skies and much cooler weather) after negotiating the interminably long walk/airport train/walk that is SFO. I was so pleased with the car that I photographed it to document the beginning of our journey together:



Thanks to great directions from the friendly Alamo exit gate guy, I sped off toward downtown San Fran and soon found myself facing Golden Gate Park. I snaked my way east, in search of the restaurant called Zazie that was my lunch destination. My search took me through the Haight-Ashbury neighborhood; I made a mental note to return for a longer look around, as it seems to be right up my alley (no pun intended). Here's a picture from Haight:



I was pleased to find free, albeit severely angled (downhill) parking close to the restaurant. Zazie was a charming and awninged French place, complete with a French "ouvert" and ferme" sign:





The place was small, with exposed brick walls, wooden tables and chairs as well as booth seating (I did not try the outdoor patio, but it would be a nice place to while away an afternoon) and a loft office reached by a slender and curling iron staircase. I settled in comfortably and was warmly greeted by a nice waitress. My breakfast consisted of a large and excellent bowl of cafe latte, paired with a lovely omelette that contained warm sausage and the freshest of tomatoes. The potatoes accompanying my omelette were convincingly "garlic roasted," as the browned garlic pieces were actually served with the potatoes. Feeling sated, I paid the bill (also learning from a note that accompanied the bill that the waitress was giving all of her tips to the week to benefit victims of Hurricane Katrina) and ventured back into the world, but not before greeting a friendly dog tethered to a tree outside:



I explored the Cole Valley neighborhood for a short while, appreciating its architecture:









En route to my hotel, I learned that photographing while navigating SF's hilly terrain is not for the weak of heart:



On arriving at the hotel, Petite Auberge, I waited for a while for a valet to take my car. When none appeared, I headed inside and found a very nice desk clerk. She was preoccupied, however, with the fact that their 70+ year old handyman, Louis, appeared to have gone missing. I felt like Nancy Drew stumbling into a new book's premise--"The Mystery of the Missing French Hotel Handyman." Sadly, I was not able to help her solve this mystery, as she already had someone else on the case. So she set me up with this cute room, where I placed my bags and relaxed for a bit:







After relaxing by my I-couldn't-enjoy-this-in-Texas fireplace, I reluctantly tore myself away for a visit at the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art. On the way, I saw that the gate to Chinatown was just a few blocks from my hotel, as was this very imposing church:





I also saw this bumper sticker, something not found in Texas:



And a sign recognizing the Giants' Moises Alou, who is no longer found in Texas or (sadly) Wrigley Field:





More to be written later . . . tired, jet-lagged, sick and must go to sleep!