LEAVING MY HEART IN SAN FRANCISCO

The fog rolling in like a special effect. Not an effect, but quite special

I would not describe myself as being well traveled. I've never been to Europe. I haven't seen Africa. South America seems to be the hot destination right now... but I haven't done that one either. These are whole continents we're talking about and I've missed them all.

Until recently, I'd never even set foot on the United States. Well, I spent a few days in Hawaii once, does that count? Given I almost got arrested for jaywalking at one point, I guess it almost does.

What's more, I've never really harboured any great desire to visit the mighty U.S.A. There are pyramids, castles and natural wonders in many other places I would prefer to see before checking out the land of the free and the home of the brave.

However, America is where Disneyland is so that's where we went. Oh, I know there are other Disneylands in other places, but if you're going to go, you may as well go to the real one. But more on that next week, because we didn't just do Disney, and if you read last week's glog you'll be pleased to hear we didn't just add Las Vegas either. Our American odyssey culminated in San Francisco and THAT, I've decided, is a pretty damn cool town.

I don't know what you've heard about San Francisco, but essentially I was expecting dodgy weather and a lot of homeless people, so I was pleasantly surprised to arrive on a warm and sunny spring day. As usual, the airport is miles away from the CBD, but being the try-hard intrepid family we are, Domestic Manager, the two monsters and I decided to brave something called the BART to get us into the city.

The BART is a real live underground train, just like you see on the movies. If I sound somewhat overexcited by this, just remember I commute to Auckland every day from a small town north of the North Shore, so I've heard of trains but always thought they were just a myth. We figured out the money, bought the tickets, negotiated the turnstiles with our suitcases and away we went. I say, "WE" figured out the money and bought the tickets - of course, this was all left up to Monster Number One who had proven herself to be the only one of our party able to discern quarters from dimes and nickles and as a result, she'd been appointed chief vending machine operator.

We emerged on the intersection of Market and 4th, literally footsteps from our hotel. Now that's what I call public transport. There was even live entertainment, courtesy of the drum/bass guitar duo frantically funking for change on the opposite corner. Oh yeah, this city hums.

So easy to navigate too. Monster Number Two sometimes goes by the name Macy, so obviously a trip to Macy's department store was pretty high up the agenda. Whaddaya know? It was just a couple of blocks away, adjacent to the legendary Union Square. The evening weather was still co-operating, so we had dinner at the Cheesecake Factory. On the roof. Of Macy's. Under the actual sign. Surreal. And this was just our first day.

Subsequently we would ride the F-Line, tour Alcatraz, eat chowder overlooking live sealions, catch the cable car and generally see the sights.

Alcatraz was so much more than just another tourist trap. They've preserved it, rather than recreating it and the result is really quite poignant if not chilling. Great place to see San Francisco Bay from too - as long as there's no fog.

Perhaps that's another reason I loved San Fran; just as my spiritual home of Hamilton does, San Francisco has fog, and plenty of it. We saw it rolling in one day, like the smoke machine on the set of X-Factor, except on a slightly grander scale. Spooky, romantic, certainly interesting and something you have to see to believe.

While none the family are still exactly sure how to tell the difference between a streetcar, a cable car, a tram and a trolley-bus, we certainly caught several of them and they all got us where we needed to be with a minimum of fuss. We queued for a very long time to catch something that definitely WAS a cable car and it was well worth it, as I elected to ride as a "standee," gleefully clinging to a pole at the front of the vehicle, hurtling up and down the hills of downtown San Francisco like some kind of urban, rush-hour carnival ride. Crazy. Do it.

We spent a few hours on a guided tour of this amazing and historic town, learning which bits had been destroyed in earthquakes and fires and which beautiful buildings had stood through it all. We drove past where Janis Joplin used to live and the house where Larry Ellison still does. We felt like enlightened champions of gay rights when we visited the Castro district. We felt like flower-powered bohemian rock-stars as we shopped around Haight and Ashbury (and tried to find a cafe with a toilet). We crossed the Golden Gate bridge both with and without fog. I liked it both ways.

In short, we were tourists and we saw the sights, but sometimes you visit a place and then you go home. With San Francisco we visited and I pretended it WAS my home. I actually wondered what it would be like to live there, instead of being glad I don't. There aren't many other places I've felt that way - Melbourne would be one, but one of just a few.

Our final dinner was an intimate establishment we stumbled across in Little Italy which appeared to be run by the actual Soprano family. The kids ordered too much pizza, we got it to go and gave it all to the homeless guy down the street. It was a good night - for him and us.

Yes, there are homeless and no, it's not a tropical beach retreat... but those two things I'd heard about San Francisco are not the things I'll remember. I'll remember the buzz, the buildings and the feeling of a city alive. I'll remember streetcars, cable cars and whatever the  BART is. I'll remember burritos and Big Daddy Speakeasy Pale Ale and jambalaya on the roof of Macy's.

I'll remember all those things and I'll want to go back.

Not a street car or a tram. Or a trolley bus. Or BART