Look, there’s two women fucking a polar bear!

DAY SEVEN

This was our first intentional trip to “The City, ” so I was pretty excited (last time we ended up here by heading 40 minutes in the wrong direction.) Basically spent the day perusing Pier 39 which is a slightly classier, more commercial version of Kemah.
It’s really too bad I’ve already filled my quota of Fear & Loathing references for the year, because Fisherman’s Wharf was just asking for it. We rode a carousel. Got my picture taken with a Hannah Montana signed guitar. Fortunte told by Zoltar. Saw a store selling pearl-bearing oysters. Guaranteed. This is not a good town for psychedelic drugs. Reality itself is too twisted.

Though in the Pier’s defense, I must add, the (completely sober, in case you were wondering) carousel ride was amazing. There’s nothing like riding a creepy gem-encrusted horse spinning round and round to eerie tinkling background music. Just like the good ol’ days. Besides, I enjoy wandering around these cute little tourist hot-spots, no matter how much I mock them. Besides, they served a mean clam chowder-bread bowl.

After the Pier, we headed back for the San Rafael Street Fair. Every Thursday, the city shuts down an entire street for people to set up tents and tables to sell their stuff. Fresh fruits, veggies, baked goods, earrings, hippie purses, clothing, vietnamese children. Really, something for everyone. I bought a sundress and a can of homeade mixed pepper preserves. Good day, it was.

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