Kiwis and Fairy Bread

20 June 2025

I fell in love with San Francisco in June of 1989. It was love at first site.

I had taken a job at a camp in Napa. Knowing not a soul in California I arrived at the airport with a sleeping bag, a trunk and my pet rabbit Nikki. Paul, my new boss, picked me up and deposited me at his friend’s flat where I spent a nervous night as their cat tried to attack Nikki. Early in the morning Paul picked me up and drove me to camp. I gasped as the light of early day revealed Victorian Painted Ladies, endless hills, shining water. “It’s the Golden City” he said.

Within weeks I had decided to move here. After an incredible summer at camp, I went back to New Jersey to sell my car and get my affairs in order. Fate had other plans. In short, Mike and I met, got married, had Emily, then Ben, and decided that Somerville was the right place for us.

I must admit, we have fallen in love with San Francisco all over again.

To explore this city we decided to start at Pier 39 where we had booked a tour of the bay on a sail boat. But first we had to get there. Last night’s experience on the MUNI train had been, to put it mildly, sketchy. Walking five miles up and down San Francisco’s steep hills was impractical. A glimpse of a white car gave Mike an idea: why not take a Waymo?

A Waymo is a driverless taxi. Yes, it is a completely automated fleet. Using the Waymo App, Mike summoned a taxi, kept track of its location and within minutes it pulled up to our apartment. We knew it was for us because of a code on the roof. He pushed “accept” on the app, the doors unlocked and we got in. The pleasant voice of a woman gave us some basic instructions, including the importance of buckling our seat belts. Then the car began to drive. The steering wheel turned and everything, with no one in the drivers seat!

Mike and I laughed in disbelief and marveled at how well the Waymo drove. It not only knew the way, but managed stop signs, traffic lights, bicycles and pedestrians with ease. The voice invited us to choose a play list, and we listened to Ravel and Haydn as we enjoyed views of the city. It was like being in a science fiction movie like Total Recall. Freaky!

It cost just a little more than a person-driven Uber or taxi. And we admitted to feeling a bit guilty about patronizing a service that was putting so many out of work. It was a taste of the future, for sure. But our next cabs, would have a driver.

Pier 39 is a bustling tourist destination. A rambling two story boardwalk filled with shops, cafes, carnival rides, even a fresh produce stand.

Wandering around we heard barking and saw a crowd looking into the bay. A raft (group) of sea lions was lounging on a set of, well, rafts. Furry babies rested with their sunbathing mothers. Males fought, actually knocking each other off the rafts to the cheering crowd. A group of young school children sat and made pencil drawings of the animals. They were really good!

Apparently in 1990 a few sea lions decided that this was to be their new home. Today there a dozen or so, but sometimes there are hundreds! I am sure the owners of Pier 39 were thrilled. I mean, who doesn’t like to watch wildlife in action?

At 1:00 we and six other passengers boarded a forty foot sail boat for a trip around the San Francisco Bay. Mike and I took a seat up in the bow, as the captain and mate took us out. We’d been concerned because the NOAA had issued a small craft advisory. The crew brushed that off as an “East Coaster” thing. This was fine weather to be out in!

Well, it seemed pretty rough to me. I was not feeling very comfortable with only a bit of netting between me and choppy waters. I needed a more secure spot, so moved to the stern, where I could sit cross legged in the middle of the boat. Mike joined me.

One of our fellow passengers was looking worse than I. He seriously looked sea sick. I offered him the Dramamine I had with me. He politely declined, saying it was just the donuts and coffee he’d just consumed. To distract him a bit, Mike started a conversation.

Turns out Tom and his wife Lenora were actually quite at home on the water. They are eskimos from Point Hope Alaska, a tribe of whale hunters. Lenora and I chatted about her handmade traditional earrings, the annual whaling festival, the difficult decision to move her family to Wassila, and her daughter’s graduate work in Indigenous people. She invited me to stay at her B &B in Point Hope, which, by the way, is only accessible by boat.

Meanwhile, Mike got some tips on whale hunting. The kayak is made out of timber and seal skin. The tribe has to make sure to kill the whale with the first shot because it might turn over the kayak. “What’s the kills shot?” Mike asked, very much intrigued. Pointing to his head Tom replied “That’s the brain, but you could get him in the lung or the kidney”. The whale’s tail is then lashed to the kayak to bring it in to shore. Then they give it all away to anyone who wants some. Every single bit of the what is used. Tom said he really likes whale meat, but seal is even better.

By this time, the sail boat had gotten close to the always-stunning Golden Gate Bridge and come around to Alcatraz, the notorious island prison. Lenora explained to me that when the feds closed the prison, Native Americans wanted them to make good on a treaty that stated once land taken from them was no longer used, they could have it again. Of course, the government of the United States is itself notorious in not honoring such agreements, But in 1969 a group of American Indians occupied it for over a year and a half. Although the land was given over to the National Parks service, the incident did make a lasting impact on successful Native American activism.

Evidence of that occupation are still on the walls of Alcatraz, and we could read them as we sailed past the island. It is a very popular tourist attraction. Mike and I just don’t get it. It was a cruel and miserable institution.

But we really did enjoy our sail and it was a real honor to meet Lenora and Tom.

Back in the pier we watched a juggling act and I indulged in a latte from the Biscoff Coffee Corner. It was disappointing. The Biscoff latte at my local coffee shop is so much better.

In fact, the whole tourist crowd was getting to us, so we walked along the waterfront to Ghiradelli Square. But it too, was so built up and so filled with tourists that we couldn’t even find the chocolate exhibit. And that’s a shame because Ghiradelli is the only chocolate I bake with. And I bake a lot.

It all made us a little sad and homesick. So we took an Uber (with a real driver) back to The Haight. Spoke to our family. Then walked until we found a little bookstore. Book stores always make us feel better about ourselves and the world around us.

We’ll not go back to Pier 39 again. Haight Street is where it’s at.