Sure, I'm a little creaky. My calves are tight and my heels hurt like a mutha today, but considering where I came from, I'm doing well.
But after 8 months, change is slower, and harder to see and feel. The first few weeks and months as I started to reclaim my life, I was invigorated. And change came fast and easy.
If you were in a boat, unknowingly sailing in the wrong direction, when you realized your mistake and turned around, you'd notice the change right away. You'd also bang your forehead with your palm in the classic "What the hell was I thinking!" fashion.
Once back on track, mistake realized, rationalized, and forgiven, pretty soon, it feels like just sailing again. It feels just like it did when you were headed the wrong way. You need to remind yourself that this is not the same. In fact, it's the exact opposite. Right instead of wrong. And that even though it seems the same as before, it's not. Not at all.
And a good way to celebrate change for good is to go climb an insanely steep hill.
I know! Crazy right? Thing is, this isn't even the steep one. Seriously.
I was going to the top of Telegraph Hill, and then climb the stairs to the top of Coit Tower. I've done this once before. A couple lives ago. The view is spectacular and worth the threat of one's heart exploding.
I took this as a warning:
Stop, you fool, the way to Coit Tower is, like, straight up!
I survived the Telegraph Hill climb, only to see this...
Stairway Closed for Emergency use only... Fudge.
What's happened to America?!? Doesn't anyone climb stairs anymore? Even in Indiana, routinely ranked way high in the fattest states list, makes the stairs on option.
I wasn't taking the elevator. It wasn't as much taking a stand as not having cash.
Still, the view from the door was excellent.
Turns out it's a statue of perhaps the world's most over-rated discoverer... Christopher Columbus.
Down the hill and back to the room. There were other sights to see. Do not pass go... do not collect $200 dollars. Keep your head down and just get ba...Hey! A hat shop!!!
Have you ever seen a real hat shop? Me either.
Ok. Move along... nothing to see here. Just get through China Town and... Oh come on... don't look at the signs!
I love the translations
And the persuasive adjectives
And the blunt simplicity.
I swear... these three signs were all in a row... 1, 2, 3.
Managed to make it back to the room and after a shower, we were off to a San Francisco treasure...
Ike's Place. Seriously impossibly awesome sandwiches.
See that line? It's always there. (With different people, though) There are no tables. No dining room. Wait in line. Order. Pay. Wait for your sandwich. Find a place to eat it. We found a lovely park with dudes throwing frisbees, dogs chasing tennis balls, and a group of people sharing a hookah. I heart San Francisco!
Off to Haight Ashbury. No time to dawdle. The day's running out and there's lots left to WTF! Another hat shop!?!
Two Hat Shops in one day?!? What do I win?
I don't recall seeing even one single person wearing a hat that wasn't off the rack.
Haight Ashbury was more quaint than hippy-crazy. We only one group of hippies. They were sitting in a circle on the sidewalk. It looked like they were braiding hemp. What do you call a group of hippies? A pod? A cloister? I think it's a slack.
Regardless, the people of Haight Ashbury were wonderful. And very, very mellow.
Numbers: 3 miles, most of it going either up or down hill.