I came home from our San Francisco vacation needing a vacation.
I had walked my legs off, and on the way home caught some kind of 48-hour bug that gave me a fever so bad that I just sat and shivered.
We got home, looked at each other and said-- see ya in a couple of days.
As sick as I was, my husband did not want to be around me long enough to catch whatever it was and I do not blame him. It has taken me more than a week to get back to normal.
We had a good time though. We stayed in Oakland and took the ferry into the city-- much more civilized than BART and just as fast. Subways are a great thing, but they tend to attract the strangest people. Plus there was the added anxiety about possible protesters at the stations. We’re just tourists; we just want to get from here to there, safely and efficiently.
The show we were supposed to see in Berkeley cancelled; Rita Moreno was sick. But we went up the street to a lovely little French bistro and had the most delectable lunch.
We walked Chinatown. We met friends at Pier 39 the next day, wandered about and laughed at the sea lions.
A couple of times we just sat in Jack London Square, held hands and watched the water and the birds.
I think I liked that best.