We really didn't want to leave. Yesterday we were right at our gate, crossing fingers that our flight was overbooked and we might stay another day. And we almost did get to stay, for somehow we missed our boarding call. The final call, and then they had to call us by name over the whole airport, all the while there we were right in front of them, oblivious to the whole cruel world and conniving to stay in San Francisco forever. With no such luck.We had the most glorious week. The weather was gorgeous, the blossoms came out to bloom, we walked that whole city and we got to know it well. My theory is that you've never actually been any place unless you've been to it twice, and so we left our Friday free to go back for what we'd liked best. Which was the Mission, and Delores Park, and corner cafes, Valencia Street, streets called Lucky and Balmy, and that sunshine. For lunch we had burritos. It was perfect.
The whole week was perfect, so much of this to do with friends. In 2004, when we lived in Japan, Stuart and I were part of a Habitat for Humanity Global Village trip to Thailand. In our group of about 30, all were American save for Stuart, me, and our now-friend Carolyn, who lives in Toronto. And those who were American were the very best of America. No coincidence, I think, that most were San Franciscans. The end result of all this being that a) we came to love Americans and b) we'll always have a place to stay in SF. We stayed the week with our friend Lynda and her adorable son Henry, and they were so impossibly good to us, perhaps the best part of our week. Further, on Friday we were treated to a Habitat Reunion at our group leaders' amazing house, high up on a hill (naturally). It was such a delight to see everyone again, to know they'd come out because we were coming, to get their updates-- because they're all such fabulously interesting people. It was a lovely evening, filled with wine, good food and laughter, and we both felt so lucky.
Which was sort of the story of our entire week.
