To Cali or Bust - Part III: Ever Eaten Garlic in San Fran?

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So I woke up Sunday, took the car and headed off to San Fran. 3 hours, said the GPS. Here are some pictures I took along the way.

You've never lived until you've seen these hills in Northern-Central California off the highway. Rolling fields, roaring wind, it's cold, windy and beautiful, even with the recent drought.

I stopped by my old house too, up in San Ramon. I hadn't been there in over 10 years. I walked up to the houses and knocked on the doors, hoping to talk to the people who lived there and my old neighborhood friends, but they were all gone, probably off at church.

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So I went a bit further down the street and shot some hoops with Kyle and Corey at my old elementary school. It seemed so much smaller than before. But I was also 3 times the size, so that helped out the scale situation.

An off to Dublin BART station I went, walking along in the breeze. You know you're in good shape when you can bring yourself through a windy area, your body heat keeping you warm enough not to shiver. The perks of running every morning, folks.

I buy a ticket, board the BART and sit next to the cute girl with her headphones on. We chat about California, college and passions, the latter being one of my favorite topics to open up with people about. She's from LA and goes to college at the City College of San Francisco, studying core subjects for now.

I get off a stop before hers and walk over to a Starbucks to plug my phone in. They have powermats, and for the first time in my life, I use the wireless charging feature on my phone before walking across San Francisco, about 2 miles, to the Stinking Rose, a Garlic restaurant in Fisherman's Warf.

My route takes me through Chinatown, I stop in a gift shop and get some trinkets for late holiday gifts and stocking stuffers. And I'm off to The Stinking Rose.

My Galaxy Note 5 really doesn't hold a charge! So I plug it in at the hostess booth and, to the hostess' incredulity I ask for a seat for one. Walking to the table, the ceiling is lined with olive oil bottles in baskets, hanging from hooks. My table is right next to the window, a white tablecloth softly draped over the table.

Not being too hungry, I order a potato onion garlic soup, as the busboy, Jesus brings me some garlic bread. Really, I hope you didn't think they'd give me regular bread at a garlic restaurant.

Then the soup comes. I ask Jesus to take some pictures given that Samsung needs better power engineers for their products, and he does and sends them to me. The pastry is flaky and buttery, the soup hot, creamy and flavorful with a touch of garlic.

I didn't notice any onions, which hurt my rating, and I had to put some garlic olive oil inside to mediate the lack of garlic tang. Overall it was enjoyable however. I would recommend the place for a daring date, or a fun outing with friends, but not for something casual.

There's too much noise around and artifacts on the walls for it to be a calm background. It's an adventure, and it should be treated as such. So I clean up, eat up and pay the bill, walking back to the BART station. It's 6:50 now, I want to get back by 11 (spoiler alert: I do) and the station is somewhat busy. I pass the time before my Dublin-bound BART comes by practicing handstands.

Someone I used to know taught me them over the summer, and I've used them when delving into parkour, a side hobby I devote some time into. A guy comes up to me and offers to hold my legs up while I continue practicing. He gets on my train moments later and I learn he practices parkour too. He teaches me how to fall backwards, as I show him how to do a clean shoulder roll. We trade run stories and he goes on his way as I continue further to my stop.

After 3 more hours of podcasts in the car, I wind up at home, laying down in the bed, tired and ready to sleep, so I do, recording the day's events to have them fresh for this blog.