After a late check out we emerged blinking into the California sunlight and went for another healthy brunch at the "world-famous" Taylor's Refresher burger place. Exactly, me neither, but it was a good burger.
Because we were worried it was going to be difficult to find a room if we just turned up in town like we had been doing, we booked into a place called the Sweden House Hotel. It turns out that the area of San Francisco it's in is called the Tenderloin and, according to the guidebook, you need to "keep your wits about you". Basically it's a crack and hookers area near downtown SF. Not very nice and unfortunately the hotel was even worse.
A greasy, lank-haired man with a giant hand checked us in and showed us around, which included a stop at where the garbage was put. And luckily enough the window of my room faced that very spot where an old cracked sink took pride of place.
Alan's room was upstairs and the floor was covered with feathers and birdshit where the pigeons had come in. It really was a dump: "Someone had a shit and built a hotel in it," as Alan said.
We dumped our bags and legged it as quickly as possible, not wanting to spend any more time in the place than we had to.
San Francisco really is as steep as everyone says and we decided to walk up its steepest hill and down again across town to the wharf, by way of Chinatown and a crazy old rock memorabilia where my partner in crime bought a hand screen-printed poster for Incredibly Strange Wrestling. It is weirdly beautiful and has to be seen to be believed.
We had to go back to the hotel eventually and it's a shame it's so shit as it's really pissed on our bonfire. San Francisco has a reputation for being cool and interesting, but it looks like a crack den from here.
Tomorrow we're off to Haight-Ashbury and the Golden Gate so hopefully things will improve.
Oh, and the crazies we thought we'd left behind in Portland are back!
