Country Living

I'd like to say that I left my heart in San Francisco, but if I did, I think it would have been run over by a truck, trampled by a pedestrian, or fined for parking illegally.

Sam and I are not city people, so driving in a city is unfamiliar and stressful.  Nonetheless, we crossed the Golden Gate Bridge and headed to our lunch destination.

The GPS got us to Burma Superstar, and imagine our joy at finding a parking spot right in front of the restaurant!  We fed the meter and went inside to enjoy an Anchor Steam and some Burmese food.  The tea leaf salad and vegetarian samosa soup was as delicious as I anticipated, and Sam's sesame chicken pleased him as well.

But wait . . . what's that on the windshield?  A parking ticket?  Damn!  The country bumpkins fed the wrong meter!  The one to the right of the space was the closest; it never occurred to us that the meter to the left of the space, so far away, was the one we should have fed.  There's a $66 mistake.  (I will protest this, along with proof of our time there, my credit card receipt for the meter, and a very sweetly worded letter.  I will let you know how that turns out.  But in my pedestrian mind, I paid for parking and should not be fined for not doing so just because I'm not city-savvy.)


Good thing our hotel wasn't too far away, because by now, we were both pretty stressed out.  (And I wasn't even driving!)

Tonight, a friend is picking us up to go out to dinner, and tomorrow, we will do a walking tour of the city.  We are within walking distance of the ballpark for tomorrow night's game, and we will leave the city the following morning for the coast highway.

For now, although we intend to enjoy what San Francisco has to offer, Sam and I are both in love with the fact that neither one of us lives (or has to drive) in a city.  And we just cannot imagine doing so.  Call us hicks, we don't care . . . we love country living.