Notre Dame @ Stanford

College football is one of America's foremost religions. In many ways it's bigger and better than the NFL, the professional league. It's certainly a more interesting institution. The only thing Americans love more than their country is their college football team. These loyalties are fiercely proud, often born and bred and life-long. A fair-weather fan is no fan at all. At Stanford Stadium, for the last Stanford game of the season, we saw babies in team jerseys and ninety-year-old men in Stanford caps. There were more than fifty thousand people in attendance.

Stanford Stadium

The weather is fair in Stanford at the moment. The team is ranked fourth in the country, and their quarterback is one of the best in the league. In fact, Andrew Luck was the runner-up for the Heisman Trophy (most outstanding player in collegiate football) both this year and last, and he is widely expected to be the number one draft pick for the next NFL season. Fans of poorly performing NFL teams have been running "Suck for Luck" campaigns, urging their teams to lose any remaining games so as to increase their chances of being allowed the first draft pick. This kid is twenty-two years old, the same age as my younger brother. He has the whole world at his feet. Watching him lead the final game of his college career, and take a knee to end it after they'd easily defeated Notre Dame, was enough to give anybody goosebumps.

Andrew Luck (12)

The majority of college football players, however, will not have the chance to play professionally. Some of them may barely take the field throughout college. For all of these players, college football is as big as anything in their lives is likely to get. How do you top playing in front of tens of thousands of people and being watched on television by millions, all to a soundtrack of brass bands and national anthems?

Sidelined

At the end of the game thousands rushed the pitch to farewell the seniors and celebrate both this battle and the war. We left through the Tailgating area, where people park their cars and RVs the morning of the game, and spend the day drinking and barbequing with friends and family in anticipation of the evening ahead. We caught the Cal Train back to San Francisco, an hour away, and fell asleep dreaming big dreams.

The Golden Gate Bridge

We didn't jump off, but as we walked across it I couldn't help but contemplate what it would be like to do so. Thousands have tried to commit suicide by jumping from the Golden Gate Bridge, and only a handful have failed. The deck is roughly seventy-five meters above the water, and the fall takes around four seconds. Most die on impact from the trauma of their injuries, while others drown or succumb to hypothermia. Often their bodies are pulled underwater and simply swept out into the ocean, never to be recovered. Those who survive hit the water feet first at a slight angle, though they do not walk away unscathed. A plastic-covered stainless steel net will soon be constructed below the bridge as a suicide deterrent, but it may be delayed due to funding issues. Here's hoping it works.

The bridge is so beautiful, and we made it out there on a sunny but windy day. It gleams in the sunlight, and the colour is mesmerising against a blue sky. The air was chilly though, and halfway across I would have given anything for a beanie. I don't know what the wind speeds out there were, but it sure felt like it was blowing a gale.

I seem to have developed a strange predilection for spotting marine life, though Daniel never believes me. I told him I could see seals or sea lions in the waters below. They were just dark specks, really, but I managed to capture a few of them with the telephoto lens as proof.

There was obviously a feeding frenzy of some sort happening, because there were a few seals, lots of birds and even a couple of dolphins. The dolphins were easier to spot because their movements are more distinctive. The seals just sort of float around a lot, and they look uncannily like driftwood from seventy-five meters above.

Alcatraz

About the same size as our flat

San Fran from across the Bay

On the ferry

Cells

Released

Something we wish we HAD eaten...

On our last day in San Francisco the Fairmont Gingerbread House was formally unveiled for the holiday season. They'd been working on it all week, and each time we walked through the lobby our mouths watered at the scent of gingerbread that was wafting throughout. It smelt even more incredible than it looked. And it looked pretty incredible.

Hansel and Gretel eat your heart out

Daniel looking not at all suspicious

This twenty-foot-high confection contains 7500 gingerbread bricks and 1200 pounds of icing. It's decorated with 650 pounds of colourful candy pieces. Unfortunately we didn't get to sample it, and by the time Christmas has come and gone I highly doubt it will be edible. Such a waste!

San Fran: A Day on the Town

As hard as it was to tear ourselves away from our view, we decided we must find the strength to do so. We managed to spend a whole day out and about in San Francisco. We started by walking and then walked some more, and then a little bit further - all over this city. If you've been here, you know what an achievement this is. San Francisco resembles the Himalayas.

Steep as Steep

That angle may not look too bad, but these streets are hundreds of meters long at that gradient. It hurts. And it hurts even more the next day. After walking through Chinatown - it's the largest outside of Asia - and admiring the busy markets and festive lanterns hanging across the streets, we worked our way down to the Embarcadero Center. It's a strip of shops that begin near the waterfront and it was also where Occupy San Francisco was camped. Alas, we were not there to revolt against capitalism but to embrace it. And go ice skating.

Holding on for dear life

I've been on a few outdoor rinks in my time, the first at Marble Arch in London when I was a teenager. I love them and the festive feelings they espouse. If you ever went skating at the long-gone Mirrabooka rink then you'll remember how the condensation would drip from the roof, leaving holes in the ice that would eventually refreeze and grow into bumps. You don't get that problem at an outdoor rink. Instead you get hundreds of small children and their parents, all clutching the edge while trying to walk (the worst thing you can do on skates) and inevitably introducing their bum to the ice.

On our feet

Once our ankles were sufficiently painful we continued to walk along the waterfront, right around to Fisherman's Wharf. It was craaaaaap. Mum said that it was a must see and when she visited (back in the dark ages) it was wonderful. Now it's nothing more than a tourist trap with the obligatory Bubba Gump Shrimp Co restaurant, Ripley's Believe It or Not and a wax museum. Americans seem to actually think these are valid tourist attractions. There was nothing of any real cultural value at Fisherman's Wharf, though you could get a good view of Alcatraz from one of the docks. I think it must been because we've seen so many amazing things and been to so many incredible places, but we just have no time for kitschy tourist "attractions" anymore. We're way too high brow. Fo' rilla.

Unfortunately, the famed cable cars felt a little like a tourist trap. They're expensive to ride and we were going to have to queue for nearly an hour to get on one that would take us back to our hotel - I'm assuming the wait was because of the holiday season madness. We stupidly decided to walk back to the top of Nob Mountain, and we felt like Edmund Hilary and Tenzing Norgay when we finally made it back.

Things We Wish We'd Never Eaten #6: Room Service

Given that we were treating our week in San Fran as a honeymoon, we went a bit wild. With room service. Each morning we breakfasted by the window in our room. Why wouldn't you? There was no view from the restaurant downstairs. We were really lucky actually, and the first few days were incredibly clear. There was a lot of fog later in the week, but it was equally gorgeous in its own way.

Eggs Benedict with a swimming pool full of hollandaise

The photo above shows some of the best eggs benny I've ever had, and the biggest bowl of hollandaise I've ever seen. Also, all the breakfasts in America come with potatoes. It's a bit weird really. Most mornings we indulged in the Fairmont Spa Breakfast. It came with a fruit smoothie, tea or coffee, an egg-white and vegetable omelette, breads, granola, yoghurt and fresh berries. Yummm.

The Spa Breakfast

The room service desserts also deserve a mention and a picture. Below is some lemon and raspberry concoction of pure deliciousness. Notice the fancy cutlery.

Dessert of the Gods

I'll finish with a funny story that's not technically related to room service. Thanksgiving was the Thursday, and although we'd already decided to eat at the hotel we left it until Wednesday to enquire about a booking. Daniel rang to see if we could reserve a table at the buffet.
"I'm sorry, we're fully booked" the guy on the phone said, sounding bored.
Daniel asked "are there seats available for the set menu, then, by any chance?
"No, they're booked out too."
"Oh ok, never mind, thanky--..."
The guy interrupted him. "Are you a guest of the hotel? You're in room, oh, 2303? Oh, Mr Kippin?"
"Yes."
"Umm, let me talk to my boss and I'll call you back, Sir."
His boss rang us back five minutes later and said they could seat us at whatever time we wished. It was nice to be on the receiving end of some reverse discrimination. We filled our bellies with beet carpaccio, cauliflower soup, pumpkin risotto, scallops, turkey and pumpkin pies for dessert, and magicked away a bottle of very nice red wine in the process.

A Very Good View of San Francisco

San Francisco marked the half-way point of our trip around America. It was also the week of Thanksgiving and we hadn't spent more than three nights in one place up to that point. We were likely to be exhausted. Knowing all this in advance we decided to splurge, to treat ourselves a little in a style befitting a honeymoon.

The Fairmont is to San Francisco what the Savoy is to London. It sits atop Nob Hill, which should really be called Nob Mountain, and has been on the National Register of Historic Places since 2002. In fact, the United Nations Charter was drafted at the Fairmont in 1945. The famed Penthouse Suite has been the San Fransisco residence for every U.S. president since William Howard Taft. It's simply iconic, and a perfect choice for a honeymoon.

The Fairmont Hotel

We decided to counter all of our Motel 6 rooms by booking a Tower Suite for six nights, pulling the honeymoon card in the hope they would look after us. And they did. There are two parts to the hotel. The main building is eight stories high, but the Presidential Suite occupies the whole top floor. Then there's the tower, which was added in the sixties. It has twenty-four stories, but the very top one is a function room with its own elevator. Our room was on the twenty-third floor. I tell you what, there's nothing like getting in an elevator with some pompous old geezer who looks down his nose at your sneakers, waiting for him to press the button to his mid-level floor and then smiling at him while selecting the highest floor on the panel. Joy.

The room was set up for our arrival, with the lights on and classic Christmas music playing softly. It was nearly sunset and with one look at the view we realised we weren't going to see much of San Francisco. At least not up close. 

From the Golden Gate to Alcatraz

From Alcatraz to Embarcadero

I remember Mum or Dad asking me during a phone call why we weren't out and about seeing the sights, to which we replied that we could see them all from our room. The inside of our room was equally lovely. Just being able to sit on a couch was luxury enough, let alone being able unpack all our stuff. We even had our very own entrance hallway. The bathroom was marble and there was a separate area with a dressing table. I've always wanted a dressing table.

Apologies for the mess, but I think it took us all of ten minutes to spread our stuff everywhere. It took us a hell of a lot longer to pack it all up at the end of the week, but it was so worth it.