In an earlier post, I mentioned how, shortly after my arrival in San Francisco, I fled crying from an evil crowd after bandaging a guy with a bleeding foot.
I stumbled northwards and uphill away from the evil monochrome white yelling people, just trying to get away. Gradually the scenery changed. The smells, the sounds, the spoken words all suddenly seemed like home. I'd reached San Francisco's "Chinatown" district. It seemed just like being back home in Toronto. I relaxed, and felt safe and comforted. It was time for mooncakes, so it was so much like being home that I felt all warm and relaxed, just like soaking into a hot bath.
After wandering through a part of town that was comfortingly familiar, I went to have dinner with The Hamster Of Death and scanner_darkly.
We met at the Comstock Saloon, an historic bar/restaurant. They are two amazing people, and kept me entertained for hours of delightful conversation. We had amazing food, too - rabbit-meat appetizers, marrowbone pot pies, and other savoury dishes. They then strolled outside with me and showed off the artwork decorating the neighborhood.
All too soon it was dark, so I went off to my hostel for a nap.