Yesterday Grandpa Nelson and I flew to San Francisco so he could have an appointment with a doctor. This was just a check up and all is well, but it was a full day.
We all woke up at 3:30 in the morning (also known a 0 dark thirty) to get to the airport on time. We flew into San Francisco just as the sun was coming up and took the BART train into town. The trains in San Francisco are louder than ours in Portland, but they do the job and we didn’t have the nuisance and expense of renting (and parking) a car in the city.
After waiting and meeting with the doctor we got a Lyft car to Fisherman’s Wharf and played tourist. We took pictures, ate lunch at Ghirardelli Square, and visited Le Musee Mecanique, a building full of OLD arcade games.
The oldest was a zeotrope (an old way of making pictures move, like cartoons) from 1927. We played skeeball and Grandpa Nelson played an old baseball game from 1936.
We saw public art (if giant crabs count) and more being created, a huge mural that is going to be Frida Kahlo being painted on a building. We enjoyed watching people swim in the lagoon, perform music on the sidewalk, and just be people, including a pair of Russian speaking grandparents in full conversation with their English speaking grand daughter. They all understood each other, but spoke in their first language. Amazing, and familiar.
When we were pooped and brain dead (not enough sleep and too much out and about) we caught the BART train back to the airport and flew home. Auntie Bridgett picked us up and we finally went to bed at 9:30.
I will be staying home today and counting my blessings.