An uneventful evening flight and a quick SuperShuttle pickup: how fair is it that I was last on but first off the van? Sorry, co-passengers.
We took the ferry to Sausalito looking for art galleries and interesting food. I had a calamari steak, which was damn good, and maybe we didn't walk far enough from the dock to find interesting galleries. Well, interesting combined with possible. I loved some tapestries but they ran to several thousand dollars apiece and what would I do with a tapestry? What I can't launder, dust, vacuum, or scrub, I am not going to bring voluntarily into my house unless it is, say, a couch.
I had come to San Francisco ready for reasonable temperatures and trusting too much to Mark Twain, who said the coldest winter he ever spent was summer in San Francisco. I had left Denver at 104 and 102 degrees. So for San Francisco and Sausalito to sizzle was cruel, damn it.
For dinner we found merely adequate sushi. The concierge's recommendation looked like Friendly's but with fish, and at 7:30 on a Saturday night was empty. So we strolled on until we found a place with customers in it and whose menu was not solely in English. That was better. But not great.