The California clock shows 5:30AM and coffee shops in our Russian Hill vicinity don’t wake until 7:30am so we tapped our watches as if speeding time along, wondering how we would survive this delayed awakening. But we did and departed our hotel (the neighboring-room ‘domestic’ situation sleeps) 7:30AM local time pronto. First stop an Italian espresso that did the necessary magic and off we were on a steady descent down Columbus Street heading toward Fisherman’s Wharf.
Walking with a backward lean made it apparent we were descending from an unusually steep mountain. We posed at each intersection photo-bombing ourselves into side streets that rose to the clouds or dropped to the sea, all the time marveling at the cyclist commuters taking on the uphill challenge barely sweating. No doubt San Francisco cyclists are equipped with twin-engine quads and an extra set of lungs. Continue reading Hello San Francisco