Day 1 & 2 - San Francisco

Planning to go sightseeing and find the Hubs the pizza he remembered from when he was seven, we had rushed to check into Hotel Vertigo, which was cheerfully located next to an apartment block called "Pharoahs" that had,you guessed it, an Egyptian theme!

Hotel Vertigo was a monument to top down business. The higher floors were newly refurbished, with the lower floors retained as they were in the movie. We were in a newer style room, highlights for which included faux leather bathroom tiles and horse head lamps, a shocker in the morning.

In the morning? That's right. We didn't make it out of the hotel on Day 1. The 6 hours of sleep in 30 hours had knocked us for six and we woke up at 4 am on Saturday. Not a problem though, we hit up some dawntime sightseeing and Lori's Diner, where we met about six Brits - not the introduction to America we'd hoped for. Still, there were plenty of "American" things that I got excited about: Jack in the Box; fire escapes (where is Richard Gere when you need him); homeless ex-Military types; corn beef hash; straw dispensers. We thought Lori's was the perfect first port of call, a 50s style diner. We did have to pay a local homeless dude for his expertise to get there though. It was the first place where we experienced cheap volume. Corned beef hash and a veggie chilli omlette came with bottomless caw-fee all for £25. Similar would have been £40 in London. I was a little sad than the meal was healthier than I'd anticipated. That may have been a San Francisco body-as-temple thing. The Hubs promised that tomorrow we'd find local policeman and tail them to their haunt, where there was no doubt we'd be able to find a heart attack on a plate. Even so, I couldn't move for about 40 minutes after and the steep hlls became less daunting with all the extra energy to burn. Just as well, since the Hubs ran out of Lori's insistent on getting to the top of the hills so that we could see the sun rise.

We sought more advice from the local experts, none of whom could agree on the best spot for a view. Instead we followed the dollar to the Fairmont. There, a friendly chauffer insisted that we pose for pictures with his car. He was lovely, and I felt terrible when I stupidly asked what kind of car it was (a Lincoln Town Car). Across from the Fairmont was a little square where there seemed to be a cult practicing their doomsday march to a woman yelling "kut put" to keep time. In the middle of the square, and on the steps of Grace Cathedral there were people practicing tai chi. It was a great, serene morning.

On our way to Union Square to meet our tour, we started to see the runners coming out. One of these included a particularly attractive girl in a BU Law sweatshirt. The Hubs was staring when I poked him, which prompted this, which I will christen Hubism #1: "She's keeping her legs together. That's just such bad form, I should tell her." I really wish he had. Instead, he led me to Union Square for a tourist coffee in the sunshine. It was suprising how quiet the City was, though perhaps less so at 9 am on a Saturday.

The tour we were booked on was through San Francisco Movie Tours. Having booked Hotel Vertigo, it seemed appropriate to keep the movie theme going. It was a 3 hour tour featuring 70 clips from 55 movies. This wasn't a limitation though, and we saw places like the Buena Vista Cafe, site of the first ever Irish coffee. We also learned that San Francisco was where sourdough bread was first baked, and denim was invented. We saw the church where Marilyn Monroe and Joe Dimaggio had their wedding pictures taken, even though they didn't marry there, and various sites from Dirty Harry and Mrs Doubtfire. It also helped us find the pizza place of old - Uncle Vito's.

The tour dropped us off at Fisherman's Wharf and we were STARVING. We headed over to Nonna Rose's for cracked crab and choder in a sourdough bowl. We made friend with the owner who showed us how to maximise the crab from the shell. It was gorgeous, literally drowned in a vat of boiling watter then pounded with a mallet and thrown into a paper serving box. I've always thought that crab tastes better than lobster and this meal proved it, though a similarly cooked lobster from Maine may well convert me. Next to us at the outdoor tables was a really nice guy named Dennis, who was with a car crash of a family. Well, more like a trailer crash. They were like a family on MTV episodes, of the "16 and Pregnant" variant. There were two kids making out, slurping that was a totally different kind from the crab eating tables. There was loud swearing and talk of their sex lives in front of their parents. Cool parents are one thing. Stupid parents are another. When moms joined in, I was forced to mentally transport myself to a zen place.

We headed from Nonna Rose's to a Musee de Mechanique, a free entry collection of arcade games. I spent ages looking for a Zoltar, but was attrated away from the fortune games by a crowd of cheering women, surrounding the arm-wrestling game. It was at this point that I realised I'd left the Hubs unattended for too long. He'd wandered far enough from my peripheral to slot two quarters into the game. Thankfully, he was successful (just, though he wants it known it was on the heviest weight setting), and celebrated with a mighty yell of "London in the house" to a round of rapturous appluase from a group of cougars. It was clearly time for discipline, so I hauled him off to Alcatraz.

There were about a hundred and twenty other peple on our tour of Alcatrax, but it was probably still one of the best tours I'd ever been on. The Alcatraz tours can basically be distinguished into day and night tours. We'd been lucky enough to get night tour tickets. The tour is distinctly touristy - Alcatraz is now a national park and everyone boarding the ferry is photographed against a blur screen for a superimposed picture against a preset Alcatraz backdrop. This was an awfully deceptive start, since the rest of the trip was unique and amazing.

We hopped the ferry to the island with a quick run through of the Island's history on the way (summary: discovered by the Spanish, fort built during the gold rush, turned into a prison by military inmates, then a maximum security prison, before being shut for being too expensive). We disembarked onto the island and had a quick intro before having an audio tour. I've never liked these - they always seem like a cheap excuse for a tour. This one was really well-executed. The groups were sent around different sections, so there was no fighting to view displays or peek into a cell. There was so much that was exceptionally interesting. The cells were larger than I'd imagined, though it was disconcerting how public the toilets were. The stories were great, with the stories of the 1946 riots brought to life with the bullet and grenade marks on the ground. Following the audio tour there was a programme of invents, including the political history of Alcatraz followed by a campfireside recount of the escape attempts. Too soon though, it was back to the Wharf...

... which was strangely quiet given that it was Saturday night before St Patrick's Day. The cable cars looked like they weren't running, so we walked, and walked, and walked back into town, mostly uphill. We literally walked till we couldn't go any further, even to the shops I was meant to be picking up some new purchases from. Instead, we went to Uncle Vito's where the Hubs posed for photos as Barbara Steisland in What's Up Doc? while we waited for a table. I've heard for some time how pizza isn't the same in the US (most people say it's better), so I thought it was worth a try. It was a little different: the base was thick, which I don't ordinarily like, but inthis case it was crispy, with really soft dough. Apart from that though, it was a pizza. Perhaps if t was something I generally like to eat? The Hubs, a pizza afficiando said is was "crispy, but moist", and blamed the fact it was over a hundred covers a night.

Somehow we made it to bed by eleven, sober and in physical pain. Day 3 was to be the French Laundry, would I be too excited to sleep?