Sacramento

We set off from San Francisco towards Sacramento—and frankly, we probably shouldn’t have.

ℹ️ Note

A brief lyrical aside/disclaimer. This text—like all others in this series, along with the accompanying photographs—is a reflection of my personal experience, shaped by specific temporal, weather-related, socio-cultural, political and other conditions. It is entirely subjective, and therefore completely truthful. This is not a recommendation, nor an attempt to compile a ranking or travel guide. If something didn’t appeal to me, it doesn’t mean you should avoid it too. Your mileage may vary.

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San Francisco

On the first morning, still all over the place with jet lag, we woke up at a very un-us 6 a.m., had a bite to eat, and made straight for the Golden Gate – San Francisco’s best-known landmark.
How do you know a landmark’s really famous? It gets clobbered by a meteor / washed away by a tsunami / blown to smithereens by aliens in a disaster flick.

As if to drive the point home, in the first three minutes a flotilla of boats with black sails slid under the bridge, followed by a squadron of enormous pelicans, and then – also under the bridge – a helicopter for good measure.