duck-shaped pain

But, anyway, that's not what you all came to read. So, without further interruptions, I present:

Day Two

(Day One is here)

I woke up fairly early. I had been worried that I would oversleep and end up staggering out of bed at noon or so, surly and grumpy because I had lost several perfectly good vacation hours, but that did not occur.

Everyone else was asleep, though, so I had to be quiet. This was difficult. The lockers where we were supposed to store our things were right behind one of the beds, so in order to access your locker, you had to precariously lean over the bed, usually containing a sleeping person, and grab your stuff as swiftly as possible without dropping anything on said sleeping person.

This might have something to do with why I was the only person in the room using my assigned locker. Then again, I was the only one whose collective stuff was small enough to fit inside it. Both R. and O. brought enormous bag after bag of stuff with them, which surprised me, since one of them was staying even fewer days than I was.

The shower in our room was sort of weak and underpowered: it felt like being peed on more than a full-fledged shower. It did the job, though. I got dressed, carefully put my things back in my locker without waking R., and set out.

I walked awhile to get to this breakfast place mentioned in the guidebook. While the food there was completely worth it, the walk looked a lot shorter on the map I was looking at. But I was completely ready to eat by the time I got there.

It was a coffee shop called Caf� Bean. [1] I had something called "the European," which was some interesting scrambled eggs, some really amazing ham, a stack of toast, some Swiss cheese, sliced cucumbers and tomatoes. I don't mean "interesting" in a pejorative sense here -- they were really good scrambled eggs, but I couldn't figure out what else was in them besides egg. There was definitely other ingredients involved. I also had a really good americano.

I ate nearly all of it, except for the Swiss cheese and raw tomatoes. I'm not a big fan of either one, even though I made a stab at eating some of both, thinking maybe the act of being on vacation would make them taste different somehow. Nope. I was pleased that there were cucumbers, though, which I don't often see for breakfast. The ham was soft and thinly sliced and rich-tasting, sort of like the meat version of butter.

After breakfast, I walked over to Market Street and Powell to buy a three-day bus pass. My plan on hoofing it for the entire trip as opposed to renting a car caused some consternation among people back home. Some of it was concern about my leg, some of it was concern about the bus. I mean, hello -- I've ridden the bus before. The bus is essentially the same everywhere. The same people are on all buses, no matter where you are. Plus, there's no way I'm going to try to park a car on a regular basis in downtown SF. Public transit it is for me.

My first plan of the day was to ride the bus over to Golden Gate Park so that I could go to the Asian Art Museum and then anything else over there if I had time left over. I had this fool idea that it was going to rain in the next couple of days, [2] so I'd better do the outdoor-oriented things now rather than later. So I hopped on the bus, communed with the Bus People for awhile, secretly stressed about getting off at the right stop and then did.

I, know, I should expect it -- I was in a park, after all -- but I was surprised at how lush and green everything was. I'm not used to it, since I live somewhere which is the opposite of "lush" and "green," especially in March. There was a slight breeze, and it carried the scent of flowers as I walked by the botanical gardens. Very nice.

The museum was near-empty when I arrived. It was so empty that I thought I must have arrived on the wrong day or that it was shut down for some reason. But, it was open. It was just not the top attraction for anyone else but me at the moment.

I was worried that going to the museum might be a waste of time. When looking for information about it on the Internet and in guidebooks, I was warned that because the museum was moving to a new location later in the year, it had only a small fraction of its collection on display (it�s true: during tours of the museum, the guides kept mentioning that there used to be a whole lot more of this � be it porcelain or jade or crude stone carvings � on display at one time).

I needn�t have worried. I was at the museum for three and a half hours, and I got wiped out before I even saw everything that was on display. I reached a point where I said to myself, wow, this is amazing and I�m really interested in all the things I haven�t seen yet, but MY BRAIN IS FULL.

I took notes on my favorite pieces in the Asian Art Museum, figuring that I was going to write about them eventually. But -- I am lame, and I lost them somewhere. So I don�t really have full details to share, sorry. I was really amazed by this contemporary drawing by a Chinese Bay Area artist depicting a high cliff with a few gnarled pine trees growing out of its cracks and crevasses. The main exhibit was a display of Taoist art from China, and the entire exhibit fascinated me. I took a guided tour of it first, then returned later to look at it further on my own. The guide was very nice and knowledgeable, but at that moment, had the misfortune to be leading a tour which included a big-time Taoism Geek. Who kept giving us all his own running commentary on what we were seeing. Which wouldn�t have been a bad thing, except that he was doing it at the same time the guide was talking, quickly mumbling to himself and selected companions in a very deep, low voice. We all wanted to smack him with our programs. My favorite part of the exhibit was a portrait of a young female Taoist priest (I had her name written down at one time). Her story was interesting � she became a priest at the age of 17 and died at age 23 in a ritual death. But the way she was depicted in the portrait was the best thing � she was looking straight ahead at the artist or anyone else who decided to look at her, with an expression that read, Yeah, I�m great. I know so much more than you. Not the kind of calm or stoic expression you expect from such things � which is why I liked it so much.

After I finished going though the museum, I decided to walk though the Japanese garden located right next door. Enormous orange fish and tiny trees � I�m there.

The museum had been nearly empty, but the garden was surprisingly full of people. People all armed with cameras, all stepping off big, plush tour buses. I hate to say it, but it doesn�t matter how nice you are or where you�re from. When you come in a group, and there are a lot of you, and you all come in a big bus, you�re automatically annoying. There�s just too many of you to deal with you as individuals. I hope you understand.

Anyway, it was the exact opposite of calming. People were everywhere. I thought about stopping to get some tea and a snack, but the tea house was too crowded (although I was pleased to see that wasabi green peas were one of the offered snacks). By prowling the garden�s outskirts, I managed to find some quiet spots to sit and relax.

I watched the koi swim around in their ponds for awhile. One pond contained only one very lucky fish, who seemed to be enjoying his solitude immensely. There was another pool with several fish in it. People kept throwing money into this pond (in fact, all of the ponds), which seemed to irritate the fish. Please stop throwing things at us. We have no need for your currency. We just swim around all day and never buy anything. We have no idea what you�re trying to achieve by giving us money.

I left the garden and walked through the park some more, both to enjoy the greenery and locate the proper bus stop. There were many people out jogging in groups and people and their dogs napping on the lawn.

I caught the bus, which was going to take me over to Fort Mason, where the next museum I wanted to see was. I knew that this bus went near the Golden Gate Bridge on the way, but I just didn�t realize how close. Like right at the base of it. We drove up and I figured that since I was there, I might as well get out and look at it and the people also looking at it.

Admittedly, it wasn�t a high priority stop. I�ve seen it on each of my previous visits, so I hadn�t planned on making any special trip out to see it. But even though I�ve seen it before, it�s still a pretty amazing bridge. The crowds of people at the viewpoint pleased me � it�s always good to see people getting excited over civil engineering. Plus, the view of the city from that spot is very nice.

I was parched, so I bought a bottle of water at the little snack bar. My attempts to pay were thwarted by the Surly German Fighting Couple, who could not agree on which of them was responsible for getting the wallet out of the backpack one of them wore so they could pay for their nachos.

�No, I got it last time. All you do is take!�

�It is on your back. It seems as if it is your job to pay.�

I�m afraid to say how long this went on. People were all relieved when one of them capitulated, though. Never hold up the nacho line.

I got back on the bus and headed for my intended destination. The driver let me off at Fort Mason, but warned me cryptically to �watch for bikes� when I departed. No idea why.

The Mexican Museum was the reason I went up to that part of the city. I�ve always had at least a low-level interest in Mexican art and crafts, so even a small museum devoted to the subject would be something I�d like to see. If it was open, that is. It wasn�t it. The sign on the door said that it was closed for the day, due to installation of a new exhibit. I was sort of upset, but at this time, I was on sort of a traveling high, so it didn�t affect me much.

Besides, I got to eat something at Greens.

People who read this journal regularly know about my predilection for vegetarian cookbooks (even though I am not a vegetarian). The first veg cookbook I ever owned was the original Greens cookbook. Although a lot of the recipes seemed a lot more complicated than I was capable of at the time (this was in high school), reading through it gave me my first glimpse that there was a bigger world of food out there than what I was used to. Later, I obtained Fields of Greens, their second cookbook, which is my favorite out of my entire collection, due to its ability to make me intensely hungry and because everything I've ever made out of has been wonderful.

I had heard that the restaurant itself wasn't as great as it used to be (not like I would know, but you know, word travels), and that it was sort of pricey and whatever, all reasons that made me decide to look elsewhere for some food.

But here I was and here it was, and I figured I would at least look inside. The restaurant itself was closed -- I was there around 4 in the afternoon -- but their small take-out caf� was open, so I grabbed a chocolate-pecan-walnut bar of some sort and a salad. I thought about ordering more, since the guy behind the counter was pretty hot and sort of smiled and giggled everytime I ordered something, but I decided to stop while I was ahead. I sat down outside to eat my purchases and they were fucking great. I should have just eaten a real meal there. Maybe next time.

I got on a bus that would eventually take me somewhere near the hostel. It was full of many, many eldery Asian men and me. I sat down to try and relax. Which lasted for maybe a minute or so. I didn't realize it when I got on, but this was the bus that went near Fisherman's Wharf. The bus stopped, and all of a sudden, an enormous flood of people got on, all friends or relations to each other, all loud, and who all bore many enormous bags from the Disney Store.

Big groups of loud people make me nervous. Especially when selected members of the group are shrieking and gesticulating and wearing very, very bright orange jean shorts. [3] There were no seats on the bus, so they all stood and took up all the room in the aisle.

One of them asked me for directions. I actually knew the answer to his question, and answered him, and he kind of went off on me about how awful everyone was here and how he hated riding on the bus because of how smelly the people on it were and how he wanted to get out of here and get back to his own country (unspecified).

One of the eldery men at the front of the bus pulled the cord to signal that he wanted to get off. He got up, but could not navigate around the mass of loud people in the aisle. The bus stopped, but this guy could not make his way off the bus. The bus driver, not really able to see what was going on, started moving again. Finally, the older man got through, and the driver stopped the bus sort of suddenly so that he could get off. This curt stop caused one of the Aisle People to nearly fall over. The guy who had asked me for directions started yelling furiously and rather incoherently at the driver. The driver stopped the bus, turned around, and told the guy to fuck off.

Rude, maybe, but all the other passengers were quietly rooting for the driver. I guess if I had to drive this route every day, I wouldn't take any crap from anyone, either.

I got off near Chinatown, since I didn't want to ride on the bus anymore. I walked around some more, looking for some more food. I ended up going to a Chinese vegetarian restaurant. This is one of those that creates meat substitutes out of gluten and has fake "shrimp" made out of nuts and the like. I'd never been in one before, so why the hell not?

I had thick rice noodles, pan fried with gluten "meat" and mustard greens. It was tasty. The gluten wasn't going to fool anyone, but it had a really good flavor. The mustard greens were the best, though. I don't really eat them very much, but this meal could make me try them more -- they were very crisp and tangy. I also had a sweet sesame ball with a red bean paste filling, a small bun filled with walnut "shrimp" and a slice of turnip loaf. I was amazingly full afterward.

The woman sitting beside me also had turnip loaf. She talked to hers. I just let mine be.

By this time, I was exhausted. I went back to the hostel, lay still for awhile, chatted with the roommates awhile, wrote a bit, and then to bed.

[1] I will provide the names of restaurants if I remember them. My underlying anxiety about naming the places I went is that I'll get mail from any SF readers I have saying, "hey, you went to all the really lame places!" But, what's done is done.

[2] I was wrong.

[3] I am amazed that such shorts even exist. Then again, they probably thought I, clad in my typical generic black urban uniform clothing, looked super dull.

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