Happy Canada Day!
Misty and I finished our bike tour yesterday, pulling into San Francisco around 1 pm after fighting with the hordes of tourists on bikes coming over the Golden Gate Bridge in the opposite direction. I can't believe I'm finally here, after 32 days on the road. My odometer proudly displays 1960 km, and we sailed into town under sunny and clear skies feeling like champions. San Francisco is awesome. We're staying in a hostel-hotel with character in the Tenderloin region on the fifth floor where the elevator is about 80+ years old with the double doors requiring a hefty slam each. Our windows open out into the wide open streets and we can even see inside the apartments across the way. Sushi, Indonesian, Thai, Pubs, laundromats, hostels, hotels, convenience, liquor stores line the streets of our neighborhood. The laundromat we're in right now has names for each dryer and washer (I used PKAY to wash, and Hobbes to dry), and not only serves food and coffee and alcohol but also has pinball machines. I am looking forward to exploring this city more, and we're off to Alcatraz this afternoon. I'm afraid that even 10 days here won't be enough!
We are in cyclist-friendly territory. Cyclists like us are all over the place, and we are welcomed. There are signs everywhere reminding cars and bikes to share the road. Our panniers attracted so much attention that we felt almost like celebrities. We even had a couple of cyclists stop us on the Golden Gate Bridge and offer to take our picture because they recognised that we were touring. They were so interested in our trip experience that we held up traffic for a good 20 mins on the bridge. We saw so many other cyclists it was easy to ask for directions relevant to cyclists, such as "is there an easier way, ie. no more hills, to this address?" One guy named Dan was so excited to hear that we had cycled all this way that he not only invited us out to have pizza but pretty much accompanied us to the area where our hostel was located. Hilarious.
Off to get clean clothes, Hobbes is calling. (Misty's dryer was Calvin, how cute)
