Overnight in SF



Hotel Kabuki



Winter’s a good time to visit San Francisco insofar as hotel rates drop as much as 50% from their summer levels, despite the fact that there’s rarely any of the chilly fog that plagues the summer months.  Of course it may be cold or rainy, but sometimes you get these brilliant sunny days when the air is so clear you can see Point Reyes 20 miles away, an ultra-high-def day.  We had one of those on a recent Saturday. 

We arrived at the Hotel Kabuki, in Japantown, around 3 Friday afternoon, check-in time, and parked in the garage beneath, where we found an ideal slot for R2 right by the elevators.  Our room on the 9^th floor boasted views to the north and east and we savored them briefly before descending to the street, walking Post to Fillmore and turning uphill.  In the other direction (south) the neighborhood gets a little rougher, high-end shops giving way to jazz clubs like The Boom Boom Room, Rasselas, and Yoshi’s, not to mention the famous Fillmore, although the recent arrival of a pricey restaurant called State Bird Provisions may signal an upgrade trend creeping south.  It’s a popular place and we considered trying it but the menu didn’t grab us and we already have a favorite restaurant in the area.  . 



Tom Papa



The weather was overcast with a cold wind gusting into our faces, so we ducked into a shoe store called Paolo.  Frieda is a shoe nut and, to be honest, I have a weakness for them myself.  A pair of green eel skin lace-ups sang to me but I resisted their siren call.  We escaped the place with our wallets unscathed and poked our noses into a few other shops before heading back to the hotel.  After changing, we caught a cab to Cobb’s Comedy Club on Columbus, near Lombard (the valet at the hotel discouraged us from driving due to the shortage of parking in North Beach on a Friday night).  We had tickets to see Tom Papa, whom we’d discovered on a Comedy Central special.  We were about an hour early for the 8 o’clock show and had our choice of seats.  I picked a table in the second row; the front row’s a little too close for comfort in a comedy show.  Seeing as how there was a 2 drink minimum, I ordered a bottle of Firestone Gewurztraminer (We visited the Firestone Winery on our trip to the Santa Inez valley in October 2011: see post “The Santa Inez Valley”) plus a burger with fries and a salad.  People slowly filed in while we ate and by show time the floor was filled. 

Things kicked off with a mediocre comic from Sacramento followed by one from LA who was better, but not good enough to inspire full surrender.   Papa, even though we didn’t always agree with his perspectives (closing the Post Office), and even though much of his material had no personal resonance for us (parenting), was just as funny as we recalled from our previous exposure.  He had us laughing until our stomachs hurt.  It’s not just what he says, of course, but his gestures, his grimaces, his timing, the whole package.  After the show we ambled up Columbus to Café Greco for some dessert and espresso, and then caught a cab back to the hotel.  These days it seems nearly as easy to find a taxi in San Francisco as in Manhattan.  The cabbie returning knew the city better, so the fare was about a third less than the fare going had been. 

As I mentioned, the next day dawned pellucid.  We drove out to the Richmond, an area sometimes referred to as New Chinatown despite the plethora of Russian establishments, for brunch at Tan Kiang, a place with locally famous dim sum, and then headed over to Land’s End in Lincoln Park to take advantage of the clarity.  From there the Golden Gate was etched in acid on a ceramic blue sky.  When you consider gateways, there is no other in America with as much iconic power as this bridge.  It’s like the vagina of America.  But while we were walking around there I noticed my Tsubos were cutting into my Achilles tendon, despite the fact that I’d had them for years, so we took R2 back to Japantown, parked it in the garage, and walked over to the Safeway on Geary to pick up some Band-Aids to shield my sore heels. 

Problem fixed, we nabbed a cab to Union and Franklin.  Union is another good shopping street and Frieda was after boots.  She found some brown Steve Maddens she liked so I bought them for her.  Then we crossed the street to La Boulange for a couple lattes, plopping ourselves outside to enjoy the warm sun and ogle the fashionistas.  When we’d had our fill of that we meandered on down to Fillmore and turned up the hill.  Fillmore is so steep here that for a couple blocks the sidewalk turns into stairs.  When you get to the top (Broadway) and turn around the Marina spreads out beneath you, with the bay beyond and then the Marin headlands.  It’s one of the great views in the city.  Over the rooftops to your left you can see the northern half of the Golden Gate.  Facing south it’s a gentle descent from here and we meandered into various shops, just killing time until SPQR, the restaurant we were stalking, opened at 5:30.  We had no reservations but got seats at the bar and ordered a carafe of a very nice white from Umbria, a salmon starter, black ink chitarra, and Arctic char, plus, for dessert, a chocolate assortment with hazelnuts.  We were on the road for home by 7:45.  It was a nice little getaway.