San Francisco casts a spell on me

 

This is the sort of thing that gets me all misty-eyed. Just look at that bridge, will you? With that pink sunset going all ombré in the distance? San Francisco, oh my goodness, I loved you so much.

At home now, my ordinary coffee tastes so, I don't know, bland and disappointing? We sat in the back corner of this cafe in North Beach and my cappuccino brimmed thick with foam. The tiny spoon, the mosaic tables, the reek of art and culture and rich conversation. I swooned.

We walked until our calves bulged with misery, and then we walked some more, climbing hill after hill. I simply could not stay indoors; there was magic around every corner. I think Doc would have enjoyed a rest now and then, but I walked us half to death, and he'll thank me for it when he's recovered. Me: "You can sit down when you're dead!" Him: "So, soon then?" He bribed me with coffee and tiramisu, which totally worked.

There is the famous fog, creeping in over the Bay Bridge at the Port of San Francisco. I really could have stood there and watched that happen for hours. I might have.

A penny bracelet, purchased in a pop-up market and hand-stamped--while I waited--with the word "Peace", which is what I want more than anything for this beautiful little world.

I could not have loved that city more. I traveled with a journal, inspired by the always wonderful loritimesfive, who I narrowly missed having a chance to meet and say hello; we were two passing ships coming and going to and from San Francisco on the same day--I have such a lot of lovely memories to write about and to draw and doodle, leaves and feathers and other natural treasures fallen and foraged from the ground to press and identify, and now I have to go figure out how to enjoy ordinary coffee, what with having seen the promised land and all.