Food trucks? Why, yes please.
It was back to SF for me on a Friday afternoon as we drove over to Fort Mason Center so we can check out Off The Grid. We had a very systematic approach to this visit, with the list of vendors printed out and all. The suggestions of people who has been there were even highlighted and noted. We take our food trip seriously! Haha.
I want to pause at this point to say that I can’t get a quote from “Go On” out of my head: It’s a short trip from foodie to fatty.
(Though to be honest, K. Perry, I’ve never felt like a plastic bag. Ever.)
Miss Americurrr! (My cousin’s gf, Joy, who went all-out patriotic for this day.)
In my country, July 4 is known as “Philippine-American Friendship Day”. It used to be our nation’s Independence Day before President Diosdado Macapagal switched it to June 12, which was our independence from our Spanish conquerors.
At this point, I just want to say a huge “Ha!” to my grade school history teacher who thought I’ve learned nothing just because I opted to do something more productive in class than listen to her.
Bitch, I had Encarta.
The reason why I boarded a Greyhound bus from Vallejo to Reno was so I could attend the wedding of my Uncle, the baby brother of my mom.
I wonder if anyone has already noticed that I add an exclamation point to the title when I can’t come up with a semi-decent one.
I probably wouldn’t have forgiven myself if I went to San Francisco and didn’t see Pier 39 in Fisherman’s Wharf. I could be wrong but we don’t have anything like that in the Philippines. The piers I’ve gone too locally are all “serious business” ones, and you try to spend as little time there as possible before you board your ferry to go to another place.
Fisherman’s Wharf was our last stop of the day so my feet were pretty much dead but I wasn’t going to miss out on the place. What’s a little blood in my boots?
Bad-ass bird of the day: “I own this street, b*tches!”
I read somewhere that the Golden Gate Bridge ranks as one of the top suicide spots in the world. It’s terribly sad that some people look at that suspension bridge and think, “That’s where/how I’ll end my life.” And then there are people who’d lost loved ones from suicides off that bridge and that’s all they remember when they see it. I mean, it really is a breathtakingly beautiful bridge — like a work of art that spans almost 9000 feet– so it’s tragic in that aspect.
Well, you know what they say about tragedy and beauty. Or is it the beauty of tragedy? Or the tragedy of beauty?
Okay, now that I’ve started this entry in a morbid note (it’s just one of those days; I forgot to take my happy pills.), let me just say that there was nothing sad or melancholy about on the day I got my first good view of the Golden Gate Bridge. It was a really clear day, perfect for sight-seeing.