I am walking on Golden bridge in San Francisco and i feel like a movie star. Short scenes from Hollywood movies are playing on my head and I still can’t believe that I am here.
I am stopping time to time to admire the fabulous view over the city and I keep thanks to God for guarding my steps everywhere in the world. It’s amazing how, in less than two years, since I am working as flight attendant I manage to visit so many beautiful places on Earth.
I am walking, thinking, dreaming. I am so far from home not only by distance but also by time (12 h difference) and I m wondering what my loved ones are doing right now.
I see an yellow phone accompanied by a banner “call for assistance” and I start laughing. There is nothing funny, actually is pretty sad…24 suiciders are jumping from the bridge every year. I wonder if one of these yellow phones really helped someone and I am keep asking myself what would be the reason behind their terrible act. It might be love…it’s always about love. It’s beginning of the februarie and it’s cold outside even if the sun is shining shy over the bridge. The water should be freezing, why would someone wish for such a terrible death? I am empathizing too much right now so I m trying to make up funny stories regarding the phone to bring my good mood back.
Far away in the ocean is located the Alcatraz, one of the most famous jails in the world, which is now a very popular touristic attraction. Hosting in the past few of the most dangerous criminals, including Al Capone and the Birdman, the prison became subject of numerous movies. I m not a fan of the captivity but its amazing location and funny names of the corridors (Broadway, Michigan Avenue) made me mark it on “To do” list for next time.
After more than half an hour walking, I finally reached the end of the bridge. I m desperately looking for a restaurant, here outside of the city, but the only place that I can find is a small fast food. I m grabbing a hot dog and a muffin, my only food for today even if its almost dinner time. The view is dreamlike which compensate the strong feeling of hunger.
It’s getting dark early and the sun is hiding behind the cliffs. I wish to continue my sightseeing but the cold weather is pushing me back to the hotel. A group of Chinese is approaching me for pictures probably being bored of the motionless Golden bridge. I am faking a smile, trying to not disappoint my little, cute ladies wearing pink jackets. They dont thank me with the famous “xie xie”, instead they mix some broken english words which bring a big smile on my face…”Thank you, how are you” (probably meaning…thank you, bye bye).
Frozen, I am leaving the photo shoot, jumping in the first taxi that I see. Surprisingly the taxi driver is asian too. We are having a funny conversation, he is looking interested in finding out how people lives in “Abu Dubai” desert and I am answering his questions being impatient to reach the hotel as soon as possible.
“Jet Lag sweet jet lag…”
4 o’clock in the morning I m awake and hungry. I am counting the hours until the breakfast starts. I m reaching the restaurant even before the waiters, dreaming of the buffet multiple choices. Finally the employers are coming at work but with bad news. Shall I choose which one I want to hear first? The bad or the worst? First the hotel doesnt have the buffet option, neither room service and second they can’t prepare food at all because the computer for taking orders is not working.
I m going to the front desk angry, complaining about the service and I understand now the concept of “they are angry with the uniform and not with you as person”. I decide to find another restaurant for breakfast but I gave up fast. Onced I opened the hotel main door, a splash of rain dropped on my face and the furious wind pushed me inside.
Definitively is not my lucky day, can’t just someone understand that I am hungry? After one hour of swearing in my room, I am going back to the restaurant which is finally open. I am having a well deserved breakfast and I m planning to continue my sightseeing. The trouble is far to finish once I realized that I m not carrying proper clothes for this weather. Somehow I manage to wear all my clothes one on top of another (including pajamas), i put my only booties on (with high heels) and I set up the GPS location on the phone. Confident, I am heading against the wind to the world’s most crooked street, the Lombard street.
San Francisco is a city build on top of the hills, with incline streets which goes up and down. Of course I totally ignored this detail when I choosed to wear my fashion boots and now I m struggling to not fall on the slippery pavement, hugging each car and three on my way. I m stopping whenever a car pass by, pretending that I am checking the map. I don’t want to look like an idiot even though I am hardly breathing and my high heels betray my foulness.
I am impressed by the high number of beggars and homeless people which I see in each corner of the streets and I m curious about their sad story. It looks like half of the population of San Francisco lives on the streets and it makes the city look so dangerous and unsafe. I never been so afraid of walking alone in any city of USA and this is a reason why I am not so excited to come back again.
After almost one hour of torture, my GPS is announcing the end of the destination. I am going up to the hill while my “Chinese friends” are coming down and I can’t stop laughing when I notice few ladies wearing heels, same as me.
The Lombard street is a little bit disappointing in this period of the year and it has nothing of the colors and the crowd of cars that Google shows.
“Worthless” i am thinking and I stop a taxi which pass by. Next destination…shopping area.