It's for weekends like this that I moved here. Friday night started at
Ploy II on Haight Street. Not only was the thai food incredibly delicious, but the portions were perfect, and the converted apartment made me feel like it was truly home cooking. We sat in what would have been the dining room, along with two other parties. In the living room area another dozen tables stood ready, with a few groups of people digging into their steaming meals. It was a birthday meal, so Rodney got a free dessert and a song, and then it was off to the bar.
The
Gold Cane straddles the very fine line between neighborhood hangout and dirty
dive bar. It you're there on a Tuesday afternoon, it's a dive bar. If you're there at 1:45am on a Saturday night and the drunken crackiness is in full swing, it's a nearly dangerous dive bar. 'Cause a bar like that demands shots be done, and that last round of pure liquor means someone's going home hurt. But if you're there around nine or ten on a weekend eve, it's just a great place to hang with a superb jukebox, cheap, delicious drinks, and a small patio out back. A $3 pint of Sierra is a deal in any bar, much less in the
heart of San Francisco.Saturday morning was not an easy rise. Nine turned to ten and the Jagerover was knocking me around. But moving had to be done, so off I drove, coffee in hand, and music from my new
iPod shuffle keeping the hangover from fully kicking in. It was sunny and warm, with no clouds and bright sun. Exactly the kind of March Saturday I've come to expect from this city. Moving was fast and furious. Seven guys and three girls stripped the Uhaul in just over an hour, then settled into some bloody mary's up on the back deck of a great new apartment. But Dolores Park called to us as more "movers" showed up, hours after the work was done.
The park was a scene of skin, pooches and beverages. Funny conversations and perfect weather made the afternoon hilarious and relaxing.
Dinner that night was Italian. The food was good and it was great to see some old friends, but we felt kinda strange at 7:20 when were were still the only 2 people there (out of 15), for a seven o'clock reservation. Eventually the birthday girl showed up and dinner was nice. And filling. We had to walk it off and the evening air was amazing, so we strolled south on Van Ness and surprised ourselves by covering 15 blocks, all the way to Market, before jumping into a cab. It was just supposed to be a quick stop at home, but once chillin on the couch it was only minutes before the pasta weighed me down and the sun and beer and moving exhausation took hold and we were
fast asleep.Asleep at 11pm on a Saturday night was a bit of a poor showing, so waking up on Sunday we knew we had to make up for it. With a phone call from Heather at 10am, the path for the day was set. We were going north up to
Mount Tam. The hot hike through the cool trees had the three of us exclaiming in wonderment that we lived in a place where we could be out of the city and deep into the gorgeous woods in a matter of minutes. It got cooler as we descended, and right near where the brook sprang from the wall of earth deep in the valley, the temperature dropped even further. Still, shorts were a must. I wore my
Crocs hiking and found them to be excellent for a stroll through the woods. Backpacking I would still use hiking boots, though.
After the two hour hike, we returned to the car, which was parked at the edge of
Rt. 101 and at
the edge of the continent. Grabbing snacks and the New York Sunday Times, we hit the trail again, this time heading for a secret jewel of the Mount Tam area. Down and to the left we traipsed, leaving the road behind us. The green, steep slope above and below was cut by the thin brown of our path as we wound our way along the hillside, then down into the forest. The tight canopy of trees brushed at my head. The moist soil below compressed under our steps. Around a curve and across the valley, and there it was: The Tourist Club.
Nestled into the hillside and surrounded by verdant trees, the Friends of Nature Tourist Club is the perfect way to end a day hiking around the California coastline, and the knobby hills of Mout Tam. There is lots to tell about this unique little enclave, but at that moment, the most imporant facts were simple ones: cold German beers and bright sun on the tables and benches. The place was busy but not full. I can imagine what must happen there on holidays and parties. Fun. Lots of it, along with lots of people. The view was spectacular and the beer delicious. We sat and chatted, read the Times, ate some cheese and crackers, played Othello and basically had the most perfect, relaxing, enjoyable Sunday afternoon one could ever hope to have. A trafficless return and a true home-cooked dinner with friends back in the City sealed the night.
The only way the weekend could have been more perfect, would have been with a game or two of Texas Hold'em at some point, or perhaps a night with live music. But both of those are coming up in the days ahead, and I'm certain there's another perfect SF weekend just steps down the path, just around the next corner. Or maybe we'll go to Tahoe next weekend. I hear they have perfect weekends up there, too.
