I heart San Francisco

So, the flight was not fun. It was only 13 hours, but the lady next to me made sure she did everything in her power to make it feel like a lifetime. What is it with me managing to always sit next to the person who wants to make the very most out of the cabin service and make sure they get their money's worth by trying to drink the plane out of booze? Then the dude next to her downed several wines and then several spirits and at last glance, I believe he'd moved on to Bailey's. Now, don't get me wrong - I like a drink, but I really don't believe anyone's experience in extremely cramped plane quarters is heightened by getting shitfaced.

Once I was finally off the flight from hell, I jumped into my shuttle eager to get to my new temporary home. Let's just say the driver was a little challenged and I ended up being 1.5 hours late to meet the building manager. Shit. I was stuck out on the sidewalk with no mobile phone and about 20kgs of luggage. The nearest pay phone was out of order (well, I'm sure it would have worked perfectly well had the handset actually been attached to the phone). So, I did the only thing I could do - I stood out the front of the building hoping something would happen. After about 10 minutes, a man came out of the security gate and was looking up and down the street. It was then or never, so I asked him for help. I explained my situation and he said he could help. Another guy came up, turned out it was his friend who had just arrived from New York for the weekend.

Guy One: "Why don't we get off the street. Come inside and I'll try and get a hold of the building managers."

Me: "Um, OK." I'm thinking 'just stay in the lobby'.

Guy One: "So, come up to my place and I'll make a call."

Me: "Yeah, OK." I'm thinking 'what options do I have here? The possibility of having to sleep out on the street, or the possibility that this guy is an axe murderer and his axe collection is up in his apartment'.

So, we all get in the lift and the axe murderer introduces himself to me as Eli and his friend is Jonathan. Neither of these names sound like the names of an axe murderer. Still, after getting out of the lift and walking to Eli's apartment I'm thinking of how this story would play out on the news. We get inside the apartment and I hover close to the door while Eli makes some calls. Finally, he gets hold of someone from the building management and they promise to meet me in the lobby in 15 minutes. Surely Eli can't dismember me in 15 minutes. I start to calm down. I'm offered something to drink and I accept a glass of water and look around the apartment. I start to forget about being chopped up into little pieces and begin to hope that my apartment is as nice as this one. It's got a fantastic view, a well equipped kitchen and it doesn't at all look like it is the meeting place for the San Francisco bed bug union.

15 or so minutes later I'm in the lobby meeting Andrea, the lovely German building manager with one hell of a handshake. We head up to my apartment and I almost do a little dance when I get inside and realise that it is actually nicer than Eli's. After Andrea has shown me all the in's and out's she asks what brings me to San Francisco. I tell her I'm doing an artisan bread course in a couple of weeks and it turns out she's a bit of a foodie too. I mention Tartine and she draws me a map of how to get there and a few other great places nearby.

After Andrea leaves and I've finished doing my little 'this place is awesome' dance, I know that I want to sleep (since it has been about 36 hours since I have done so), but it's 2:00pm and that would be very bad. So, instead I decide to acquaint myself with my new hood. It's an area of San Francisco called 'the Mission'. It's named after Mission San Francisco de Asis, which is San Francisco's oldest building. The area is home to a large Mexican population and you can see this everywhere you turn. Just in my block alone there must be least 4 taqueria's and 3 grocery stores specialising in Latino goods (I walked past one today that was selling cactus leaves).

I end up at a place that Andrea recommended called 'Bi-rite Market'. The place is packed with people and I can see why. You walk in and on the right is the fruit and veggie section (all organic produce), then as you make your way to the back of the store you pass a wall of cheese, wine, dairy (they have their own creamery), fresh fish and meat, pre-packaged meals and heaps more. I've just found my grocery store, I'm elated and I fill up my basket with everything except for bread, since Tartine is just a couple of doors down and I can't wait for my first loaf.

Well, me and everyone else in San Francisco, apparently. By the time I get to Tartine there is a small sign posted at the entrance saying 'Bread is sold out for today'. I head home to eat and sleep. Tomorrow will be a big day. It will be the day I finally get to eat a Tartine morning bun.