(Fake) Tales of San Francisco

Dés' pour le retard!!

(Yup, that's how my French is shaping up lately)

So I took a little holiday (and by "little" I mean "of a lifetime") and when I got back the catching up with work and friends in Tunis and working through the post-holiday-blues took up all of my waking hours. Then Team Tunis got really busy moving houses, having babies and throwing dinner parties every night, and then my work have decided to move us all to another country which has got all of us excited... so, over a week since I got back, I'm just updating you now.

I went to SAN FRANCISCO Y'ALL!!

So the obsession with San Francisco began with my childhood bedtime stories. My parents hadn't travelled a great deal before I was born, so post-procreation, sensing overwhelming responsibility and pressure, they left me with an aunt and travelled the width of America by road, lest they should spent long evenings in the future babysitting their huge brood in a 2 bedroomed house with nothing to talk about. It worked like a charm, and as children we heard of their adventures, particular when my mother won a free ticket to Disneyland, thousands of times.

My mother always said that San Francisco was her favourite city, though, she found it hard to articulate why. Something quintessentially European, liberal, sunny and happy. Then my father lent me Walter Mosley's Cinnamon Kiss, which is based in and around San Francisco, which really turned the heat up. Oh, and I watched The Princess Diaries once. 

I was not disappointed. I keep thinking that if I keep building up these places, one will eventually underwhelm me. Not today people. It was fantastic. From the breathtaking landmarks, which you have seen and million times before, and often wondered if you would see with your bare eyes, to everyday, enchanting exchanges between strangers that you will remember always.

The city was beautiful. The weather was perfect. The people were enchanting. The bike ride across the Golden Gate Bridge was exhausting. The food was wholesome. Izzie (my lovely sister) was hilarious. Alcatraz was haunting. The street art was inspiring. The mood was exhilarating.

(Knitting in cells in Alcatraz - yep, they knew)

...And I put my feet in the Pacific Ocean.

Happiness.