We arrived in San Francisco mid-afternoon, and took the BART (Bay Area Rapid Transit) to the Westin Market Street hotel. I knew as soon as we came out of the station that we’d done well: the hotel was right in the middle of the ‘downtown’ part of San Francisco, away from the touristy (and expensive) Fisherman’s Wharf. This felt much more like ‘proper’ San Francisco.
After a long flight, the hotel was just perfect: it had a wonderfully huge and comfortable bed. In fact, the challenge was not going to sleep: in the room at 4.30pm local time (12.30am Sunday morning, UK time), it was far too tempting to sleep straight away. The risk of sleeping would be to wake up at 2am local time (10am Sunday, UK time) and have another holiday would be ruined by jetlag.
We agreed on the principle, so Vicky fetched a Starbucks to keep herself awake. For her, this worked; I duly crashed, and by 6pm, I think we may have easily killed each other. We compromised by agreeing to go out for some food and then coming back for sleep. Wanting to sample an American burger but not from McDonald’s, we found a small, local chain called Pearl’s Diner.
On Google Maps, it didn’t look so far away but truthfully, it was too far for jet-lagged legs. We found it in the end; the restaurant was basic beyond basic, but the food was just great.
One more walk back to the hotel, and we slept wonderfully. Killing the jetlag, and not each other.
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