San Francisco is a city near and dear to me. My dad grew up there and we visited family often when I was growing up. Seems like into adulthood, funerals were the only thing that brought me back to the city. Not so cheery, and not very conducive to sightseeing. So finally, we planned a trip for the sole purpose of having fun and being tourists - something I've been wanting to do for a long time.
We drove along Hwy 1 to Santa Cruz, stopping at beaches to marvel at the mighty Pacific Coast.
I spied succulents everywhere...
...and tiny trees coaxed into tidy shapes. So very California.
My Uncle Carl's garage was exactly as I remembered it. A spot for every tool...
...and an old chest with drawers that rolled out like velvet.
We practically had the tea garden to ourselves on a quiet Sunday morning...
...and afterwards, Sutro Heights was a quiet, eerie spot to explore.
But the place that surprised me most and continues to linger?
I had never been there, and really wasn't quite sure what to expect. Everything about it was fascinating. The audio tour, which I initially scoffed at, was incredibly well done.
So many corridors to explore, so many worn floors, and doors that won't open...
(I don't believe in ghosts.)
...and so many ghosts.