I walked all the way to the Rotunda at the Palace of Fine Arts. To give the viewer a sense of scale, that tree you see is a very, very, very tall tree. Did I mention that I walked all the way there? Well, I did. Along the way, I dragged myself all the way down a pier, and back again (why, I have no idea), and even stopped by Ghirardelli's (which predictably enough, my camera ate all the photos of.) to buy my dad a birthday present. Of the Chocolatey variety, 'case some of you out there are particularly slow. I couldn't help but notice that every single person along the waterfront was British, including the weird hobo who was building a sort-of sculpture out of suitcase-sized rocks balanced end on end, to form... a tower of suitcase-sized rocks.
I also passed some adorable little kiddies playing footie (Brit variety) on a beautiful green right smack by the sea, and bordered on the one side by the most beautiful houses I have ever seen, and the other by a man-made bay full of yachts, and felt that life just doesn't get better than this. I would have felt jealous had my feet not been hurting so much by now.

My grand ambition to walk all the way to the Golden Gate bridge was prematurely terminated (And i almost made it, too!) by my rank stupidity and inability to figure out which highway to terminate my life on prematurely in quest of my objective. Much later on the next day, while on the bus, I realised I could just of walked down the waterfront some more for a short distance. Doh!

Anyway, defeated, I hopped on a bus and made my way back to...