Sunday, a day of rest, ish.

Taking my time to catch up with the folks on IRC and discussing possible lens purchases delays my leaving the motel until mid-morning.

I decided to head to SF and see if I can do a boat trip around the bay. On driving along the Embarcadaro I end up parking too soon, and spend the time prior to lunch wandering along the even numbered piers, noting the state of disrepair. Lunch is some calimari followed by cajun-peppered red snapper whilst looking out over the inner bay.

In the mini-market in the main port building I note the following sign

I cannot help but think they had to add the second piece on the sign after receiving complaints or excessive curious solicitations.

Headed back down the even piers (all the while wonder where the odd ones have got to) I discover on checking the map back in the car that the odd-number piers are beyond the main port building and that I’ve done all the wrong end. Unfortunately by this time I was succumbing to the effects of backpack friction on the sun-burnt areas accumulated the previous day. In the spirit of the great intrepid explorers I conclude it’s all bollocks and return to the motel for a nap.

Eventually I headed out fairly late for a bite, and decide to try the kebab place I’d noted a previous night. After ordering, paying and then waiting at a table for ten minutes the owner comes to apologise after realising they’d handed my meal to someone else. He invited me to the till where my money was refunded and he then offered me something slightly different on the house. After a few minutes he delivered it to my table along with a little box of regional sweets along with further profuse apologies and a chit for a further free meal the next time I turn up. Two meals for nowt, that’s service, especially as I could have coped with a doner kebab in a paper bag.