Yesterday there were a few things I wanted to do locally. I wanted to check out the Copper Kettle on Taraval to the south (an Irish café with real sausages), I wanted to see the ocean up close from the beach, I wanted to walk through Golden Gate park, and I wanted to find a post office. I got the former two done and met lots of interesting characters along the way. I walked down to Taraval and found the Copper Kettle. A couple of guys in there were talking in pretty heavy Kerry accents and the couple of waitresses had northern accents. I ordered a mini Irish breakfast and got some great sausages, some rashers, eggs, and curiously, a slice of watermelon and slice of orange came with the tomato slice. I guess they’re all fruits but…
Anyway, I didn’t have cash to pay and they didn’t take credit card so I ran down the street to the 7-Eleven, withdrew some cash, paid with a twenty, and as I was leaving, stuffing the dollar bills from my change into my wallet, an elderly gentleman sitting outside the café, clearly not a bum, said “ooh! Can I have a dollar??” and I just said “sure, work away” and handed him one. He thanked me and ran inside the café. Don’t know what that was about but whatever. (I have a feeling that you’ll get my talk on how money drifts around from person to person all the time here later.)
Next I walked down to the ocean-front and started walking up along a sand-dune until I found a place without anyone sitting too close to where I was and stood looking out at the sea. I glanced to my right and saw another guy about 50ft away, about the same age as myself, was doing the same. And beside him, another 50ft away? Another guy doing the same. I walked past them both and started down the promenade. I came up to a Chinese guy doing what looked like tai-chi. He smiled and nodded toward me when he noticed me looking as I passed, and I said “tai-chi”? “No. Chinese Kung-fu” came the reply. That’s about all the english he had though. We spoke for a while, with him writing words for me to understand. His pronunciation was abysmal, but I learnt “Amichia” is America and “Farachia” is San Francisco. Even though his english was so poor we could communicate basically and he told me about how he’s a Christian (Catholic I think but not too sure… English wasn’t good enough), and how if he was in China and practised his faith, he would be sent to jail by the Communist Party. He told me how they burn and raze churches and how much he hates that government. We spoke about the gays in Castro too, and he told me that they’d be sent to jail too in China, and in Beijing and Shanghai there are some AIDS epidemics and lots of people getting in trouble because of widespread homosexuality, apparently instigated as a solution to the one-child law (keep with a partner of the sex and you get love without having to worry about kids?). His name is Kui and he’s 55. Here until September and then he’s going back to China so his wife and son can come here. He said that the government won’t allow them all out together. Can anyone tell me anything positive about China? Every single person I’ve met who’s been there (except people from the Japan tour last year who had been on the previous year’s trip to China) hated it. This guy was telling me about how you’d be mugged really quickly if you were in anywhere in China, especially outside the cities where people are poorer, and how rude the Chinese people are. He said in America people help him all the time but in China they wouldn’t give you the time of day.
After we spoke, I headed back home and stopped by Domino’s to get a drink. I had been in the sun for hours without drinking anything and my mouth was starting to get uncomfortable. I took their number down as I passed and after I arrived home I rang them to order a small ham and pineapple (Hawaiian with no mushroom). “Hey, can I get a small ham and pineapple please?” “Sure, would you like anything else with that?” “No thanks, I’m alright… actually I’ll take a diet Coke with that.” “Alright, for collection or delivery?” “Delivery please.” “I’m sorry, but we can’t deliver orders unless they’re worth $10 or more.” This confused me, as small pizzas cost me €7 in Ireland, which is surely $10 or more, right? “How much is the pizza worth?” “That’s $4, sir.” “Can’t you just charge me $10 for the pizza?” “That’s a lot for a small pizza.” “How small is it!?” “Ten inches.” “That’s not small.” “If you order three we could deliver.” “If I get the pizza and a diet Coke that’s $5.50, right?” “It’d be $5.70.” “How many cokes do I need to order to get it over $10?” “How about two litre bottles? They’re $2.70.” “Ok, if I get a pizza and two 2 litre bottles of diet Coke, can you do it?” “Let me check…. ok that would be $13.40.” “Great! I’ll take that!”
It was a bit thicker than the local Castletroy version, but it tasted great anyway. I’ve been told by everyone that there are way better pizzas around so I’m looking forward to trying those at some stage.
After dinner I got an email from Patrick saying we could meet up at 10.45pm at the Apple Store, so I headed out an hour before and got to the 31st and Judah stop. No sign of the muni so I asked the girl beside me and she helped me out, giving me the number to call to find out in future and introducing herself as Judith. We spoke about San Francisco and such half the way to Powell St Station where I was getting off, and I spent the other half watching video presentations from Apple on iPhone/iPod Touch development.
As I was getting off a group of teenage guys were getting off and one saw my iPod and said “is that a calculator??” Another one of them said “I got one too!” and held it out. I showed him all the games on mine and told him to google for “jailbreaking”. He seemed really interested. His friend though, feigned a grab for my iPod and said “I almost just took yo’ [insert expletive]!” … poor iPod.
While waiting for Patrick, a lot of dressed up asian girls were going by, and it looked like they were heading to that asian club at Westfield, so once I met up with Patrick we went there and there was this huge queue of asians waiting to get in. We weren’t on the “guest list” so were told we had to wait 20 minutes and decided we’d avoid the embarrassment of not being let in when they see that we aren’t over 21, so left and went to the hotel bar in the Hilton and had a water and a diet Coke and no asians. 
I said goodbye to Patrick shortly after midnight and started heading down O’Farrell back towards Market St to get onto the Muni, and a guy approached me as I passed him. He had a shaven head and a moustache, in his early fifties, business suit on and briefcase in hand, but looked really worse for the wear. He had a fresh red wound on his head and his face showed that he was having the worst night of his life. In a tone of voice that complemented the expression on his face, “Hey, can you please help me? I’m NOT a bum but I’ve just been jumped and I’ve spoken to the police but they couldn’t do anything and I need $11.50 to make the fare for the bus home.”
I asked if he was ok and if he needed any medical attention and what the police had done. They’d taken a report but wouldn’t/couldn’t do anything more. I gave him a $20 bill and made sure it was ok and there was nothing else that he needed. He asked for a card but I don’t have any yet so he gave me a copy of his CV and told me to contact him with an address so he could give me back the $20. I wished him a safe trip home and walked, very cautiously and only through well-lit areas, to the Muni. It was the last one and I got home without being mugged but with learning a lot more about iPhone development.
About money being passed around really freely in this city: today I gave a tip to the waitress at the café, a dollar to the guy outside the café, money to a guy who had been mugged, and had some quarters in my pocket to get rid of any particularly passionate bums (that I didn’t have to use). With tipping and all the homeless, a lot more money than what’s on your bills goes away over here.
