Wednesday, December 25

I abstained from posting on Christmas Day – far too momentous a day for us. Not only was it Christmas, but we completed the final and most dramatic leg of our trip to California.

We left Reno at sunrise, around 7:15 AM, and headed toward the Sierras. We were slowly climbing, even though at times we dropped a thousand feet or so, only to climb higher again. The slopes became steeper and more densely covered with pines and the presence of water was more apparent: creeks raced down and rapids flourished. There was ample evidence of early dams and sluices built to channel water and harness the water’s power for electricity. We reached the California border amidst intermittent freezing fog and then for the most part, the rest of the upward climb to Donner Pass was in dazzling morning sunshine.

Heading west from Reno

In California the Sierra Nevadas are magnificent. Even though there’s been a dearth of precipitation compared with most years, the mountains look fresh and vigorous. It may have been simply that after days of treeless mountains it was a relief to see the heady flourish of evergreen. A few miles after the Donner Pass we stopped again to walk the dogs at a “vista point” (the highway department’s term) where wagon trains halted and individual wagons were lowered several hundred feet to where the trail continued: the slope was too steep for the horses and wagons. I wonder if, as they gazed at the mountains around them, some settlers wondered why they couldn’t just stop here and carve out a new life. But we were tourists; those pioneers had another agenda. Come to think of it, so did we, and we too headed on.

Our first expansive view of California

In the course of nearly forty miles we descended nearly 7000 feet and were soon on the outskirts of Sacramento. We continued on, through California’s version of suburban sprawl, interspersed with clearly vibrant and extensive farming – the great Central Valley. We passed the University of California’s Davis campus, with its agricultural school and – most important to us – it’s enormous veterinary school. It’s canine ophthalmology department, the world’s largest, is where Lucca will continue his post-operative monthly exams after cataract surgery.

Another hour or less and we were over the last mountain pass just outside San Rafael. We cut across a corner of Berkeley and onto the ramp leading to the San Francisco Bay Bridge. The first segment was the newly opened section of bridge, pristine and white, that led to Yerba Buena and Treasure Island. We passed through a tunnel on the island and emerged for the final triple-suspension segments of the bridge. We were immediately struck by how close downtown San Francisco and it’s financial district loomed. We were also confronted by the steepness of its hills. Even from the distance of the bridge the vertical climb of Nob and Telegraph Hills was impressive. And daunting.

All that's left...

Once off the bridge we took the first exit and in a few blocks we were pulling into our building and into our parking space. We picked up our keys from the building’s concierge and within minutes had taken the elevator up, walked the short distance of hallway and unlocked our front door. We stepped in and there it was: San Francisco. It was our Christmas present, and we were delighted!

And grateful the trip was safely over. We were famished.

After a brief unpacking (not much fits in a small car when you're traveling with demanding dachshunds whose idea of travel is not unlike the Royal Progress) Ken and I set out to find a restaurant open on Christmas Day. We walked east on King Street, past the new baseball stadium and onto the Embarcadero.

Where wagons were lowered by rope

We realized we were not going to find anything, and rather than replicate the Donner party we turned back, got the car and headed for Chinatown. Once there we found every restaurant open, and while evidence of patronage by Chinese is traditionally a sign of a first rate Chinese restaurant, we were suddenly not in the mood for an authentic cultural experience. And so it was that we happened upon Mangia Tutti, an Italian restaurant near the base of the TransAmerica tower. The proprietor greeted us warmly and said we were wise to come early (it was about 4:30 PM - we had not eaten since breakfast in Reno) because he had 150 reservations due to descend at 6:30. We were charmed by the staff and the food - perhaps the closest experience to the restaurants that delighted us in Italy - and felt afterward that we'd not only had a proper Christmas dinner celebration but also found our first "favorite" Italian restaurant in San Francisco. Who knows what Michelin thinks? Michelin and its stars did not welcome us like family on our first day and first Christmas in San Francisco.

We'll wait until friends come to visit and only then set forth to determine which of the zillions is the best Chinese restaurant in the city. But we're already thinking we need to begin research in earnest to find the best Mexican place in town. And seafood. And French. And, and, and...

More soon. Merry Christmas to you, dear friends.

There's an Italian restaurant somewhere in there...