![[Next]](../../images/next.gif)
DAY +01: TOURS FOR TOURISTS, TOURETTE'S FOR TOURS
Sunday morning, bright and early, we set out in search of the Western Cafe, which our guidebook said served a tolerable breakfast. We walked down empty downtown streets. In front of one building, there were a number of broken pottery planters, which had been apparently been tossed about a bit further than you would expect such large planters to be tossable. We walked further down the street. It quickly developed that the Western Cafe was not open for business. It had brown paper up on all the windows, and appeared to have been closed for some time.
We walked back to the Public Market area, and had breakfast in Post Alley at a place called 3 Sisters. They served a lot of focaccia (sp?) sandwiches there. For breakfast, they served breakfast sandwiches that were sort of like breakfast burritos: they looked like they were going to be real sandwiches until you bit into one and discovered it had egg in it. I ordered a sandwich without egg. I got some coffee at the SBC next door. It was like water. I had two sips and poured the rest in the street. I think maybe the coffee was weak because we were in a tourist district or something. Ray clued me in on the secret: at bad coffee places, get a mocha. You can't taste the bad coffee behind the chocolate.
We walked down to the ferry tour booth to get tickets, then sat on the dock waiting for the tour to start. We watched park workers clean up the dock for the day's tourists. After a while, we trooped onto the bus that would take us to the boat. (The tour began at an inland dock, and would carry us through some locks out to the bay.)
What do I remember about the tour? I remember sitting in a chair on the deck of a boat. I remember resting my head against the bannister of the boat and drowsing as my chums scampered about with cameras. I remember seeing huge fishing boats, and wondering why anyone would want to eat so many fish. I remember that there were floating homes, which were like houseboats except that they had no means of propulsion. I remember that the locks were not that much fun in and of themselves, though being glad that they afforded an excuse for a river tour. I remember gaping with amazement at fresh water from the river being dumped into the bay because there was "too much of it." I remember the sewage treatment plant; I remember wondering if it was a sewage treatment plant, and getting quick confirmation as Arlene (and James started giggling over it). Arlene has, in her capacity as an architecturally-knowledgable paralegal, gained a great deal of familiarity with San Francisco's new oceanside treatment plant, its construction, and the many lawsuits now surrounding its construction.
I remember looking up at the hillsides going past, and figuring out the location of the 5-Spot Diner and the Longshoreman's Daughter. Considering my experiences with Seattlite's sense of cuisine, I was guessing that not many natives used restaurants as their landmarks. I remember thinking that it was a pity that I hadn't got more sleep before I did all of this travelling. And then the tour was done.
We walked over to Trattoria Mitchelli for lunch and then took the Underground Tour. The Tour was exactly the same this time as the last time I took it. I will do my best not to take it a third time.
After all of this touring, we were tired. We stumbled back to the room and conversed, slowly. Drowsily.
We talked about our day. Arlene said the morning tour--the boat tour of the locks--had been great because of our guide. Perhaps the best instance of what made her great is that she talked about how the first settlers arrived in the area and began the "rape of the Northwest." Pete pointed out that in fact the tourguide said, the "rake" of the NorthWest. Uhm, no she hadn't. But this led to some amusing images.