Mission and drunks

Yesterday I decided to go to an area of San Francisco that is known for its Roman Catholic roots and being a bit dodgy, but I decided that the RCism made it worth it and so went anyway. Lots of Californian cities were founded by RC missionaries, anywhere that is named after a Saint has a fairly good chance of being founded this way. The one in SF has a beautiful Basilica, far nicer than any of the other Cathedrals or Churches I'd come across, it was quite unusual in style, being Mexican influenced. I walked in on a mass and got to witness a very small group of good Catholics going to their daily mass. The priest seemed to know them all well and was laughing and joking with them afterwards which was really nice to see.

Naturally there was a gift shop and I was pleased to discover a range of nun figurines in different poses such as "laughing nun", similar to those hideous teddy bear things you get in England (the ones that come with S and M teddy!). Who buys this crap? Would you actually want a laughing nun in your living room? I sure as hell (or heaven!) wouldn't, I did however take a photo.

After living the actual Mission itself I made my way down to the centre of the area, to Mission St, unfortunately I came in at the dodgy end and had to walk several blocks before old men stopped making catcalls at me, I've found that happen a lot around here and I wish it wouldn't, particularly when I think they're being sarcastic. I'm looking crap at the moment, I left all my best clothes at my apartment and took what I assumed backpackers would wear, old T-shirts, scruffy trousers and trainers. Boy was I wrong, they're all walking around in designer clothes looking trendy. Anyway, I think its easier to take catcalls when you believe they are being serious and not just doing it because your shorts have ridden up and turned into hot pants.

I eventually passed the dodgy end unscathed and was disappointed to see very few shops selling the religious crap that my guidebook had promised. The one or two I did see were shut because it was Labor day (basically a bank holiday for no apparent reason). I then went onto find an alley mentioned in my guidebook that had murals painted on its walls. It was a back street in SF and there were loads, religious, political and just beautiful. There were murals everywhere, on the street, in the cafe where I had my ridiculously cheap lunch (when you're backpacking somewhere like here its often cheaper to eat out), in random places. It really brightens up the neighbourhood, we should do it in Britain, although they'd probably be graffitied by the time the paints dry.

After this I decided to go to Golden Gate bridge (well it had to be done) and so found a convenient bus route and walked to it. Just as I was getting close I saw the bus come and had to run to try and get, naturally I didn't make it, but some weird guy decided to come and lecture me about how you never run for buses, for about 5 minutes. Seriously. This guy came and told me to take life at it comes, that its my life and I can do as I please (so then why can't I run for the bus? I am British after all!). He then proceeded to show me a long scar running down his face and told me that that should teach me a lesson, he failed however to tell me how it related to running for buses. I wasn't given an opportunity to explain myself, to point out that I had no idea when the next bus would come and that I didn't want to be stuck in this neighbourhood for longer than absolutely necessary. Eventually he went away and I breathed a sigh of relief.

On the bus I had to sit next to another weirdo who talked to himself and wore a hard hat backwards. A woman actually moved to get away from him. I thought I'd had my fair share of weird old men for that day, but fate didn't seem to think so. After getting off at the end of the line and deciding that the Golden Gate bridge was too far away and it was too windy I decided to sit down by the marina and watch the boats for a bit. Unfortunately on the next bench along from me was a rather talkative tramp who told me that he hated racial labels, that he wasn't African American but Russian and then the conversation somehow moved on to spying and Gone with the Wind. I excused myself as soon as I could and walked towards the centre of the city.

I next decided to go to Lombard Street billed as the "worlds crookedest street!". After walking up some exceptionally steep hills I finally came to it, from the wrong direction (come from the east so you look up it, not down it). There were tourists everywhere and city workers had to direct the traffic. Heading down it struck me as not very impressive and I couldn't see why that when it was no steeper than other roads in the city they didn't just make it into a normal road, it was wide enough. Its probably because its a tourist trap, and they want to extract every cent from the tourist that they can, bastards.

After a long days walking a headed back to the hostel for an early night. I'm knackered at the moment, it doesn't seem like I can get enough sleep, although I sleep at least 8 hours a night and feel refreshed in the morning I have big bags under my eyes. I think it maybe that getting used to surroundings can be very difficult, like a baby needs to sleep 18 hours a day to take in all this new information perhaps I do to. I'm glad to be leaving SF today, its been fun but I need a more relaxing few days. Hopefully being in the middle of a national park will help do that, there is nothing to do but hike, sleep, hike and read. I can't wait.