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After an unsettlingly early rise, Catherine and I went to town so I'd be there when the people I'm visiting got free time. Not knowing much about touristing and having done some things already, we bussed (successfully) back to Golden Gate Park to try our luck with the Flower Conservatory. It was open this time, and quite worth the $3 student tickets. Andrew would have combusted at the variety of nepenthes alone. I took a pitcherload of pictures, and shall upload them sometime soon.
Finding a map, we decided the Temple of Music would be a good idea, especially since it was close to the Japanese Tea Garden and the de Young museum. We had no idea what was in said museum or how much it cost, but we figured we'd check. It was an art museum, and we didn't have the cash (not that and a bus fare), but we missed Joodles intensely while contemplating it.
Luckily (it took us awhile to find our way out of the park), Jorge was delayed getting into town. Catherine had to go teach her boyfriend precal because his final is tomorrow, so we parted at the corner of Hayes and Gough, where I was blindingly happy to meet Jorge. The Absinthe cafe, as it turns out, makes a mean hamburger, so I had a couple bites of his before I ordered my own sandwich.
It was bizarrely... kind of a relief to see him. I certainly hadn't been expecting or waiting to, for lo these many years, but even in his antsy, pre-job-interview worry mode he's one of the most charismatic people I've ever met (apparently I thought so the first time I met him, too). It was a load off to see him doing okay, making it in the world, being just as captivating a personality as I remembered (and with the same uncanny similarities to Afri).
He had to split not long after we started lunch, to go to a job interview, so he handed me a 20 for his stuff and I stayed and had dessert. He wanted to hang again after his interview, so I meandered around and got eaten by a bookstore for awhile, walked some more, got eaten by a craft store, and replenishing my supply of 16-gauge copper while also craftily taking advantage of their bathroom. I strolled steadily all the way back to Montgomery, where dwells the spectacular Palace Hotel, the first place I went when I got here. Before too long, he called to say he was out, and met me at the corner.
First decent street musicians I've seen yet in this town were on that corner. We walked all the way down Market to the pier, observing the interesting things on the way and at the destination, but mostly talking. It's an intense surfeit of conversation you get when you haven't met in person for four years and at least one of you is a good talker. We talked through the little market mall in the pier building (he got some sourdough) and back out.
Trying to think of touristy things I'd like, he led the way from the pier to the Metreon, nerd capital of San Francisco. Exactly. Perfect. Shiny, hi-tech, and glass-intensive, a shopping center and movie-theater complex devoted to the tastes of devotees of video games, anime, and science fiction. Except for the freaky multi-perspective multi-limbed statue outside, I'd have designed it that way. There was a beautiful, courtyard-spanning fountain covered in sunlight just outside, and we spent awhile there paging through his sketchbook, even the ancient and rarely-revealed first few pages that are the bane of every artist. He's got a style that makes function, characterization and mood completely obvious with a minimum of fuss and lineage. I admire that kind of economy, especially contemplating my sometimes tortured attempts at realism.
As the sun went down so did the temperature, so we wandered further down the street, looking for a particular cafe he had in mind. With some direction help, we made it, and he ordered and consumed a fancy coffee with alarming velocity, while still managing to talk up a storm of hilarity, fascinating information, and tricksiness (he offered to let me try his drink, warning me just slightly too late that it was full of Bailey's). I recovered, since I had my own drink, the menu's famous and infamous chai. He tells as good a story (and as well, and as engagingly) as Stephan, so I hardly had to hold up my end of the conversation at all. Which is nice, because I'm not that good at it, even if I have an actual opinion or relatively interesting anecdote.
Eventually he really had to go, so I walked him back to the BART station and hugged him bye. I hope we get another chance to hang out while I'm up here, but even if not, I'm grateful for such a reintroduction to the reality of this long-lived but lately abstract friendship.
Since I had no idea whether I should stay in town and wait for Alan for dinner (he sent some vague texts about postponing from 9:30 to 10:30, and it was after 10 by the time Jorge left), I texted to ask if he was alive, and walked to a bus stop where I could get on more than one useful line to places I remember going with him and to his house. He, referring to a facebook message I hadn't yet had the opportunity to see, told me he was leaving for dinner just then. I texted to ask where, and stood around a bit avoiding homeless people, and called Stephan to look busy. Alan didn't answer, so I called, and waited and looked busy again, and called again. Longest ten minutes of the entire day, waiting for that answer. He explained where it was and recommended a raincheck, since he was going to be quick. I'm not sure what was up, but I was glad to get on the BART and not walk for awhile.
Now I am back at Catherine's house, looking forward to crashing blissfully on her couch. Her math coaching with her boyfriend appears to have gone well. I'm not sure what is up tomorrow, but I bet it will be fun.
Finding a map, we decided the Temple of Music would be a good idea, especially since it was close to the Japanese Tea Garden and the de Young museum. We had no idea what was in said museum or how much it cost, but we figured we'd check. It was an art museum, and we didn't have the cash (not that and a bus fare), but we missed Joodles intensely while contemplating it.
Luckily (it took us awhile to find our way out of the park), Jorge was delayed getting into town. Catherine had to go teach her boyfriend precal because his final is tomorrow, so we parted at the corner of Hayes and Gough, where I was blindingly happy to meet Jorge. The Absinthe cafe, as it turns out, makes a mean hamburger, so I had a couple bites of his before I ordered my own sandwich.
It was bizarrely... kind of a relief to see him. I certainly hadn't been expecting or waiting to, for lo these many years, but even in his antsy, pre-job-interview worry mode he's one of the most charismatic people I've ever met (apparently I thought so the first time I met him, too). It was a load off to see him doing okay, making it in the world, being just as captivating a personality as I remembered (and with the same uncanny similarities to Afri).
He had to split not long after we started lunch, to go to a job interview, so he handed me a 20 for his stuff and I stayed and had dessert. He wanted to hang again after his interview, so I meandered around and got eaten by a bookstore for awhile, walked some more, got eaten by a craft store, and replenishing my supply of 16-gauge copper while also craftily taking advantage of their bathroom. I strolled steadily all the way back to Montgomery, where dwells the spectacular Palace Hotel, the first place I went when I got here. Before too long, he called to say he was out, and met me at the corner.
First decent street musicians I've seen yet in this town were on that corner. We walked all the way down Market to the pier, observing the interesting things on the way and at the destination, but mostly talking. It's an intense surfeit of conversation you get when you haven't met in person for four years and at least one of you is a good talker. We talked through the little market mall in the pier building (he got some sourdough) and back out.
Trying to think of touristy things I'd like, he led the way from the pier to the Metreon, nerd capital of San Francisco. Exactly. Perfect. Shiny, hi-tech, and glass-intensive, a shopping center and movie-theater complex devoted to the tastes of devotees of video games, anime, and science fiction. Except for the freaky multi-perspective multi-limbed statue outside, I'd have designed it that way. There was a beautiful, courtyard-spanning fountain covered in sunlight just outside, and we spent awhile there paging through his sketchbook, even the ancient and rarely-revealed first few pages that are the bane of every artist. He's got a style that makes function, characterization and mood completely obvious with a minimum of fuss and lineage. I admire that kind of economy, especially contemplating my sometimes tortured attempts at realism.
As the sun went down so did the temperature, so we wandered further down the street, looking for a particular cafe he had in mind. With some direction help, we made it, and he ordered and consumed a fancy coffee with alarming velocity, while still managing to talk up a storm of hilarity, fascinating information, and tricksiness (he offered to let me try his drink, warning me just slightly too late that it was full of Bailey's). I recovered, since I had my own drink, the menu's famous and infamous chai. He tells as good a story (and as well, and as engagingly) as Stephan, so I hardly had to hold up my end of the conversation at all. Which is nice, because I'm not that good at it, even if I have an actual opinion or relatively interesting anecdote.
Eventually he really had to go, so I walked him back to the BART station and hugged him bye. I hope we get another chance to hang out while I'm up here, but even if not, I'm grateful for such a reintroduction to the reality of this long-lived but lately abstract friendship.
Since I had no idea whether I should stay in town and wait for Alan for dinner (he sent some vague texts about postponing from 9:30 to 10:30, and it was after 10 by the time Jorge left), I texted to ask if he was alive, and walked to a bus stop where I could get on more than one useful line to places I remember going with him and to his house. He, referring to a facebook message I hadn't yet had the opportunity to see, told me he was leaving for dinner just then. I texted to ask where, and stood around a bit avoiding homeless people, and called Stephan to look busy. Alan didn't answer, so I called, and waited and looked busy again, and called again. Longest ten minutes of the entire day, waiting for that answer. He explained where it was and recommended a raincheck, since he was going to be quick. I'm not sure what was up, but I was glad to get on the BART and not walk for awhile.
Now I am back at Catherine's house, looking forward to crashing blissfully on her couch. Her math coaching with her boyfriend appears to have gone well. I'm not sure what is up tomorrow, but I bet it will be fun.
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