And so began our walk of epic proportions around SF. At no point did we want to return to the hotel for a siesta so we just walked the earth. Starting at Haight-Ashbury.
Then we walked through the Golden Gate park to hear the sounds of a tannoy drifting across the valley, promising hotdogs and sport. How could we resist? Well, the hotdog was great, and we did see our first American football game - for 10-year-olds.
After the pee-wees, we walked another couple of miles to where we could catch a bus up to the Golden Gate Bridge.
There's only so much time you can spend with the great unwashed tourist, so we headed off away from the crowds down a track to Fort Point, which is actually under the bridge for some great photos and gale force winds. Extreme photography!
We strolled along the bay front for about five miles back into town, past the wind- and kite-surfers to meet young Mr Dolling for sausages, sauerkraut and steins in a district called Mission. German food in San Francisco sounds weird, but it's better than German food in Germany I can tell you.
We had a rather jolly night trawling the bars around Jamie's five-star hotel (git), found a couple of young ladies and then realised we couldn't take them back to our fleapit so had to abandon them on a streetcorner somewhere and head back to Hotel de Merde. Class acts us.
