The Happy Tourist

Today I did my very best to do everything touristy I could find, and thoroughly enjoyable it was too. After picking up my latte and freshly baked bear claw I found my way to the Musee Mecanique down by Fisherman's Wharf where I happily pumped quarters into antiquarian musical contraptions. I saw 'What the belly dancer does on her day off' (play the ukulele in her knickers with her friend apparently?), I had my fortune told by tarot card turning old women and wooden wizards. I had my 'love level' read by flashing red bulbs and I enjoyed watching all sorts of singing and dancing quartets jiggle about with little motors driving the automatons inside. My favourite contraption by far was the German Bimbo Box a video clip of which is below. For some reason I couldn't shake the feeling that the monkey on the bottom row and far right seemed somehow slightly obscene and out of place?



I then hopped on board a boat to go and see Alcatraz. Which by all accounts was fascinating albeit a slightly strange thing to have voluntarily paid and queued to have done. In its increasingly dilapidated and shabby state it seemed to me more romantic than intimidating. A rusting hulk slowly being reclaimed by the elements, gull population and colossal undergrowth. I enjoyed learning about the 'Birdman of Alcatraz', of 'Machine gun Kelly' and of Al Capone's exploits. I had no idea that the guards children and families happily lived and played on the island even at the height of the prison's infamy. And I couldn't quite get my head around how miserable it must have been to live in such tiny cells 24/7 yet still be able to see and in some cases even hear the laughter, noise and energy from San Francisco harbor just a mile and a quarter away across fast flowing icy water.


5'x9' 24/7 = Miserable


Laundry building's water tower


Picturesque gardens beneath the battlements

When I got back to shore I celebrated my freedom with a bowl of clam chowder served inside one of San Francisco's famous Sourdough rolls. It was a tough call between chowder or a burger from Hooters across the road but in the end the chowder won. I also got to chat to one of the bakers and he told me how the 'petit chef' they use everyday (the original starter dough containing the yeast bacteria responsible for the bread's unique taste) is now well over 150 years old. It has been passed down through the generations from master baker to master baker and has to be stored in a warm safe every night as well as fed daily. He said it was like looking after an exceedingly valuable pet.