Nothing reminds you of the importance of family faster than caring for an ill child.
On the way to San Francisco, Sophie developed a fever and vomiting. Her symptoms were manageable with Motrin and fluids, but it made for a very long first night in the hotel. She is such an amazing traveler; she insisted on going despite the symptoms, ramping up into usual play mode between temperature spikes. As the plane landed at SFO, we discussed our options for the day. The plan to hit the Science museum right out of the gate fell apart. I suggested that we just go back to the hotel, cuddle in bed, eat ice cream, and watch TV (which is pretty much heaven for me). She said she liked the idea and we headed to the hotel. To get there, we had to walk by the cable cars going up Powell St.
Sophie saw the cable cars and it was game over.
She insisted on riding. Despite the viral gastroenteritis, despite no caloric intake for 24 hours, and despite the hour long line wrapping around the square, she had to ride. Her peppy insistence provided me a glimpse into her psyche and sense of values. Sophie inherited my wanderlust and sense of adventure. I'm not happy traveling unless I am going somewhere and finding something new. I am not interested in sitting on a beach with a book- I need to move, connect, and explore. She has a toy cable car at home I brought back from last year's San Francisco adventure (see Football in Exile from 2010: http://underdogcontest.blogspot.com/2010/11/football-in-exile.html) and seeing the real thing represents the essence of this city and the goal of her journey.
We climbed aboard and chugged up Powell street. We got a stern reprimand from the conductor for swinging on the overhead leather straps, but the fun was worth the trouble. Suddenly, she admitted she was hungry. This is a really good thing- she hadnt eaten anything solid for a day. I hadn't eaten much myself- it's hard to have an appetite when you spend all night cleaning up kid vomit. When she mentioned she wanted to eat, I suddenly realized how hungry I was.
We left the cable car in Chinatown (Sophie called it "China Land") and wandered into the first hole-in-the-wall eatery we could find, the Cafe New Honolulu. It was a shoddy little bakery and cafe: what you might get if you took a Parisian Bistro and dropped into Hong Kong and then didn't update the decor for about a generation. I was concerned how her sensitive stomach would react to real food, so I took things slow. No General Tsao's chicken or spicy salt shrimp; I went for basic. I ordered a bowl of clam chowder and some steamed rice. When they brought the soup, I thought I had made a mistake in coming here- it looked runny and thin. But when tasted it, I was surprised- it had a wonderful briny taste; something like fish stock with cream The chowder also came with a bun: a hot, gooey sourdough roll that was just sinful. Sophie piled rice into spoonfuls of the the soup and made a delicious porridge. It might just be the best clam chowder I have ever tasted. And all because we jumped off the cable car at a random street and we were so hungry we ignored the decor. Such is the miracle of travel!
We wandered through Union Square back to the hotel, collapsed into bed with our well deserved ice-cream and dozed as Alabama thumped Penn State and Georgia got nipped by South Carolina in a shootout. When mom returned from her meetings, I left Sophie to enjoy some mother -daughter time and grabbed a cab across town to the Blarney Stone, the official bar of the Michigan Bay Area Alumni Club.
For all those who watched the game, you know how amazing it was. For those of you at the Big House, you were treated to a special moment. I can say that watching the game in a San Francisco bar packed jowl-to-jowl with blue adorned Wolverine fans must be the next-best thing. Having visited the USC bar earlier, I was wearing cardinal. I was a lone speck of red among a throng of blue- one lone salmon fighting against a mighty blue tide. Pooler GoBlue! Was there, screaming and signing at the top of his lungs like the rest of the fools. You know you're a die hard when you blow out your voice cheering for your team 3000 miles from the stadium in a bar. Here's a video of the crowd reacting to one of Michigan's late touchdowns:
The next day I drove across the bay to Berkley to have brunch at the amazing Claremont hotel- a white wooden palace perched above the Berkley campus. In the parking lot was a classic cherry red mustang decorated with just married signs. That's the right way to start your new life together; a send off in the sexiest car Detroit has ever made I was there with pool founder Kurt and His wife Joyce, who have recently given birth to their first child, Declan Hercules. (yeah, his middle name is really Hercules- that's so cool it's worth the teasing he'll get in grade school).
I drove out to the hospital to meet Declan, still in the NICU due to prematurity. He may be young but his will is strong, just like his namesake. Witnessing the joy and wonder of this new arrival was another reminder of the priorities in life. The fragile being, so full of hope and potential, is worth every sacrifice.
Brought together by happenstance and our newest member, the family gathered together for dinner. Faced with the thousands of fabulous restaurants in San Francisco, choosing one to suit the varied palates of nine attendees (including one adorable yet precocious preschooler) can be a chore. As I walked down the street pondering this problem, I thought to myself, can't we just go to some simple steak and potato grill? I glanced to the side, eying a dive-y antique of a restaurant called "John's Grill", and thought, like that place. Then, actually reading the awning, I discovered I had stumbled upon a local legend and a forgotten gem. This is the John's Grill made famous by Dashiell Hammett and his Sam Spade detective novels. This is the restaurant mentioned and shown in the prototypical hard- boiled PI film, The Maltese Falcon. Decorated in wood panelling and plastered with signed photos from celebrities, it even features a glass display case with the Maltese Falcon statue and a collection of signed Hammitt books. I enjoyed their signature lamb chops with a 2008 Chateau Montelena Cabernet while sitting beneath the photo of the man himself, Humphrey Bogart.
On the last day of our trip, I had the pleasure of introducing Sophie to the Golden Gate bridge. Her virus had been beaten and her youthful joy was in full splendor. To most people, the Golden Gate is just a really big, really orange bridge. But to Sophie, it was a magical symbol of this city; a city that she has fallen in love with and her dad right along with her. But sharing it with someone you love brings us all closer together. In the end, the importance of family remained the enduring lesson.
Fight on,
Hans
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