Day 3

Woken at seven o'clock by the American girls packing up and clearing off to Los Angeles. Went back to sleep. Woke up again at half seven wide awake. Left hostel at nine after gorging on yet more cakes.
Set off for Nob Hill, one of the plushest suburbs of San Francisco. Saw a brownstone mansion which was built by James C. Flood, who brought the railroad to the west coast. It was pretty much the only house to survive the great fire in 1906. All the rest were built from wood.
Continued through suburbia until encountering San Francisco's steepest street. Which was 31 degrees. Walked up it without stopping. Regardez moi. Along from this was the 'world's crookedest street'. Think a smaller Alpe D'Huez with manicured flowerbeds surrounding each bend.
Down to Fisherman's Wharf. Like Blackpool but hotter. Checked out a few of the piers, mainly because I remember them from Dirty Harry.
Went to Safeway. Sunbathed in a square. Read more of Herzog. Realised I was now quite sunburnt. 

Went to a museum in a bank's HQ. Actually pretty good, although I left with the impression American life in the 19th Century mostly consisted of stage coach robberies.

Walked back to Haight to see if Jackie and Rachel were there. They weren't. Hung around until they came back.
Went to the opening of Rachel's boyfriend Karl (aka grafitti artist Hush)'s new gallery. Drank some complementary piss weak beer. Before going into down to drink some much much stronger beer. Shitfaced.