I have to say that despite my ambivalence to most of America (apologies to those that have to live there) I found California, and San Francisco in particular, really rather smashing fun. I guess California is a different beast to the rest of the States and San Francisco a different kettle of fish to the rest of California..to mix my metaphors tremendously. The Silicon Valley work work work ethic is tempered by a healthy antidote of work avoidance and generally loafing about by a good portion of Friscans (or whatever you call yourself if you hail from S.F.). That's more like it.
My abode for the week I was in town was St Paul's Hotel in the Beat hang out of North Beach, more like Hotel Earle in Barton Fink than Hotel Earle itself! Surprised I didn't bump into John Turturro wandering the maze of hallways and landings.
One of the aims of the trip to the city was to meet up with Baz, a dear friend and fellow Boosh obsessed idiot, who was going to be in town filming a sailing race that week. There was talk of helping him out for a pocket full of beans but like all things Bazian, that idea went Baz on me.
Here, take a squizz at some pics. (It's late and I can't be arsed to write any more).
There he is, the living legend that is Baz. Some of you may recognise him as the besuited buffoon from my farewell bash pics.
Arriving in San Francisco on a double decker train!
A wall.
Cannery row for the Steinbeck fans amongst you.
Alcatraz from a distance.
Golden Gate Bridge in its traditional foggy state.
G.G.B. in its less traditional sunny state.
A beach and the sea and some rocks.
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