Almost famous

Yesterday we were coming back from grocery shopping when we saw dozens of motorcycle cops circling our street. Nick went over to ask a group of them what was going on and found out that Tony Blair was driving by (probably on his way to Fisherman's Wharf for a sourdough breadbowl of clam chowder). Coincidentally, Nick happened to be wearing his London sweatshirt, so we decided to stand around and see if we could catch a glimpse. If you're totally bored, you can watch a little video below of the incident.



I thought I saw the outline of a man and woman in the back seat of the limo, but was pretty disappointed that he didn't stop for a chat - especially considering the London sweatshirt - Tony didn't know that it was not worn just for him.

We went to the Farmer's Market yesterday morning (pre the almost Tony Blair sighting) with a former comScore colleague and friend of Nick's named Tal, and his wife Jean-Marie. After spending a few hours with them, it only confirmed my suspicion that San Franciscans take their food very seriously. Walking through the rows and rows of stalls with Jean-Marie and listening to the running commentary on all the dishes she'd made with the various ingredients - thai basil, dried chiles, fresh arugula, I was impressed...and hungry. She loves to make Indian food, one of my favorites, and promised to teach me. I love this city. After three hours and all of our cash, I had enough ingredients for us to eat really, really well this week. For dinner last night I made pasta with home made pesto (basil, toasted pine nuts, garlic, and olive oil) and an heirloom tomato and mozzarella salad. Yum.

Carbs and my very first friend

I think a part of me knew when I made the reservation that last night would be the night that I stepped over the line into carb land. I mean, how do you go to an Italian restaurant and not eat pasta? Especially when it's freshly made pasta called "tagliatelle alla bollognese"? It just rolls off your tongue. I couldn't resist, and my God, it was so worth it. Absolutely deliciously perfect tender yellow pasta with the most mouth watering meat sauce - a combination of beef, pork, and italian sausage ragout.

After the, uh, indiscretion last night, I needed to go for a nice long walk today, so I went down the other side of the hill to Polk Street in Russian Hill. At this point I still hadn't had any face to face conversation with anybody (since Nick left at 5am for a flight to Seattle), so I stopped at Peet's Coffee for a latte. The cashier had apparently talked to way too many people today, so she was no help. I sat outside with my drink and watched the people walk by. At a table next to me an interview was going on for what sounded like an Account Management position in the Internet industry. The woman was totally bombing the interview and I briefly contemplated walking over to their table and handing the guy my business card, but decided against it. I'm not ready to give up the sweet deal I have going on with SOS, even if it might mean human interaction on a regular basis. Plus I couldn't imagine that the woman on the interview would have been very happy about the whole thing.

So I called Nick to keep me company for a few minutes and while we were on the phone a woman passed me carrying what looked like two very heavy grocery bags. She was older and hunched over, walking very slowly. She looked so determined, but also so taxed by the weight of the bags, so I asked her if I could help her and got off the phone. Over the next 45 minutes or so I walked with her back to her house with the groceries. Her name is Helen and she's 92 years old and lives on her own since her husband died 15 years ago. She goes out once a week to get groceries and besides that stays in her house because she lives up a hill and 50 stairs. She's got arthritis, she's a bit of a crochety old woman, but she's got perfect hearing, has a beautiful garden she takes care of herself, and a very clean house. She was born and raised in Chicago until she decided to disobey her parents and move to San Francisco where she met her husband and moved into this house and she's lived there ever since.

The whole thing was bizarre, but nice. I usually don't do very well with old people - it's so hard for me to go and visit my own grandmother in the nursing home. But I liked Helen, and maybe it's my own loneliness here that made me more sensitive to hers. I gave her my number and told her to call me if she wants to go grocery shopping again, and honestly I hope she does.

The intellectual cabbie

Have you ever had a cab driver that could use the words "respite" and "homogeneous" in a sentence? Correctly? This is yet another thing that makes San Francisco unique. Usually I sit quietly in the back of a cab staring out the window and avoiding any unnecessary interaction, but these days, being starved for the sound of a human voice, I was happy to have someone to talk to. Not only did this cab driver have an extraordinary vocabulary, he also remembered intricate details about the movie "Oh Brother, Where Art Thou" and taught me that when truck drivers have the numbers 309 on their trucks they are making reference to an old cowboy song from the 40's and 50's. Fascinating.

Tonight we have dinner plans with two colleagues of Nick's in from Reston. I picked out this little Italian restaurant in North Beach called Caffe Delucchi that I walked by yesterday when I was out exploring. The whole area smells like coffee and salami, which is much better than it sounds.

116 boxes

I am not sure how two reasonable people can accumulate 49 coffee mugs, 3 potato mashers, and enough plates to serve dinner to an entire city block, but this is the situation I have found myself in after two days of unpacking. I am also not sure how somebody could design a kitchen and not put in a single drawer to hold 3 potato mashers and an assortment of other cooking utensils, but this is also the situation I am in.

Every time my friend Beth moves, she unpacks her entire place within 24 hours, so armed with that knowledge, I thought we would be in good shape after an entire weekend. I was wrong. I think what she failed to tell me is that in order to unpack her entire place within 24 hours she mainlines espresso while smoking a crack pipe. I don't know any crack dealers in SF yet. In the meantime, we are living among boxes and boxes (116 boxes to be exact), but we are SO happy to finally have our things here and to sleep in our own bed. Right now I'm sitting at my grandmother's old wood desk looking out at the most beautiful rainbow colored sunset over the Golden Gate bridge. I'd take a picture if the camera batteries weren't shot, so for now you'll just have to trust me. It's awesome.

Today we guiltily took a break from the unpacking to try out the local Antiochian Orthodox Church, St. Nicholas. The priest at the church looked exactly like Johnny "Sack" from the Sopranos. He was so passionate about what he was saying that he sounded almost angry and I kept imagining him hanging out with Tony Soprano drinking chianti and smoking cigars. I am sure this is not what he intended, but I think he would have thought it was a tiny bit humorous if he knew. Before church, we stopped at this french bakery in North Beach called Boulange where I had the most delicious latte I've ever tasted and Nick ate some gorgeous pastries while I drooled wishing I was ten pounds skinnier so I could start eating carbs again.

90 years of ick

Last night Nick and I went by the new apartment with a borrowed vacuum cleaner to do some last minute cleaning before the furniture arrives. 90 years of other people's ick is pretty revolting, but the germ freak in me is finally satisfied with the state of cleanliness. I talked to the moving company this morning and hallelujah, our things are arriving tomorrow morning between 8 and 12. So I've stocked up my iPod and I have a really good book to read - a memoir of a young man who grew up in San Francisco in the 80's. He lived in the Russian Hill neighborhood too, so it's interesting to read his perspective.

I am still not convinced that the moving truck will actually fit on our street, but hopefully tomorrow night we will be sleeping in our own bed!

Yellow things

Before I begin talking about the weekend, I have to mention the vanilla beer I had at the Thirsty Bear on Thursday night where Nick and I met Meaghan, an old friend from comScore, for dinner. Our waiter described it as tasting like "cream soda", which wasn't far off from the truth. Yum! The restaurant is the first/only tapas brewery, and even though that just reeks of gimmick, we all really loved it.

On to the weekend...
So I was having a really hard time deciding how to kick off our first official weekend in San Francisco and finally settled on renting bicycles and riding up the Embarcadero to the Farmer's Market at the Ferry Building. As speechless as I was when I first discovered the Ferry Building, that feeling paled in comparison to the Ferry Building plus the Farmer's Market. There had to be over 100 stalls outside packed with the most beautiful produce I'd ever seen... and cheese... and flowers... and honey... and and... Nick and I wandered around in a daze for over an hour (well, I was in a daze, he was focused on getting back to the food cart that was selling grilled calamari cooked outdoors right in front of you) After a quick once over, and many, many samples (every stand offers free samples), we bought some things for dinner that night - the most adorable mini yellow cherry tomatoes, a couple of serrano chiles, garlic, and an avocado - all organic, all freshly picked. It's pretty funny now that I thought I would miss Wegmans grocery store when we moved.

Eventually we ended up back at the outdoor food stand/ restaurant area where we settled on grilled calamari and salmon, but next time we will brave the line for the rotisserie chicken stand which smelled spicy and delicious. I'm already planning what I'll pick up for dinner on Tuesday when the market is open again.

After lunch we continued on our bike ride up the coast past Fort Mason, Alcatraz, and hundreds of sailboats, and then back down to our apartment. After several hours on a bike with no shocks, we were both struggling to walk on Sunday morning.

Sunday was spent in equal parts shopping (well, mostly window shopping) in Union Square and cleaning our new apartment in preparation for the moving truck to arrive later this week. The first part was more enjoyable than the second part, but at least the apartment is ready to accept furniture now. It can't get here fast enough.

One tequila, two tequila

Last night we met up with a coworker of Nick's in from Chicago and had dinner at a local South Beach area restaurant called Tres Agaves (self described "Mexican kitchen and tequila lounge"). For a Wednesday night it was absolutely packed with people. Just inside the entrance was a 10 foot tall squared off arch made with chicken wire and filled to the top with thousands and thousands of rocks. Um, very artistic. Our waiter was actually Mexican too, which I don't think I've ever seen at a Mexican restaurant in DC. In addition to the look and the accent, his knowledge about tequila gave him away. The tortilla chips he brought were homemade and had just enough salt, and the salsa was really delicious - two kinds, one sweet and one spicy. We ordered the Carnitas (slow roasted pork with Mexican oregano and chile), Camerones (shrimp with garlic, onions, and serrano chile), and the Tacos (2 chicken and 2 shrimp). Side dishes of beans, rice, and cabbage and mango slaw were served family style. The food was really excellent - the pork was so tender and flavorful and the shrimp were perfectly cooked, not dry at all. Washed down with Negro Modelo, and I was in heaven.

After dinner we noticed a room to the side full of pretty attractive young people standing around chatting and drinking. The sign on the door said "Welcome TransPerfect members and guests only." In a city like San Francisco, if you put the word "Trans" in front of anything, you're begging for questions. Upon close inspection, none of these people seemed to be pre or post operative anything, all the men had adams apples and the women looked appropriately feminine. We were perplexed. A Google search solved the mystery.

Tomorrow night we're going to do the walk through and get the keys to our new apartment which is very exciting. We also just heard word from the truck driver that our things will arrive next weekend. It seems we've really moved to San Francisco. Crazy.

My own personal heaven

After my first day of work, I decided to go for a walk and explore my new city. Our temporary apartment is in South Beach at the south end of the Embarcadero (the main street that runs along the bay), so I turned left and headed north. The city has so many smells, but three are always present - cooking food, salty sea, and car exhaust - the first two being much more pleasant than the last. After about a mile, I crossed underneath the bay bridge and saw a large building in the distance with people milling about outside, so I went to see what was going on.

It took me a few seconds to fully comprehend where I was. It was heaven.

The Ferry Building Marketplace is a building (temple) dedicated to one of my favorite things in the world - food. Dozens of shops each completely devoted to some aspect of food or a particular type of food. One store sells only mushrooms - dozens of varieties of mushrooms, and most locally grown (organically, of course, this is San Francisco after all). I walked in a daze from one end of the building to the other, and with every store I passed, another smell came to me - cheese...olive oil...chocolate...strawberries... On Thursday evenings and Saturday mornings there is a farmers market in and around the building with stands full of produce, meat, and other (organic) goods, so I decided that Nick and I would come back and check it out this coming weekend.

It was difficult to leave, but I had a long walk back. Plus, I had a feeling I would need to burn alot of calories if I was going to manage to not turn into a cow living here.

First day on the left coast

Nick and I got into Oakland airport last night and after an unusually long ride to pick up our rental car, started making our way into "the City" (I've been told that native San Franciscan's call San Francisco "the City". Natives can always tell tourists because they say, "Frisco", therefore I have banished that word from my vocabulary lest I be found out).

We had to find a hotel for one night because the corporate apartment we rented wouldn't let us check in after 5:30 so we ended up staying at a Courtyard by Marriott which happened to be right next door to the meeting Nick had this morning, which made him happy, and right above a Starbuck's, which made me very happy. Despite a minor dried urine incident which resulted in free breakfast, the room was nice. We had dinner at a tiny Indian restaurant across the street which turned out to have above average food - a nice beginning to our culinary tour of the city.

Today we moved to our short term apartment at 2 Townsend Street right on the San Francisco Bay. The picture is the view from our balcony...not too bad. I think we are definitely going to
have to learn how to sail a boat sometime during the next two years. The air is salty and cool, and so far we haven't seen any fog.

I had a two hour conference call with work today, and have been amazingly productive for my first full day telecommuting. It's so nice to be able to concentrate without someone constantly coming into my office. It's going to get lonely, though, I can tell.

When Nick gets back from work tonight we're going to investigate the area, drive by the new apartment, and then pick up some groceries for the next week. I'm really feeling a mix of emotions being out here - it's so gorgeous and new and exciting, but I miss everyone already so much.