Who has not heard of San Francisco.

The memories of my first visit to the city have been of the nicest kind.The clam chowder. The sourdough.Will I be able to retrace my steps and find the lovely little restaurant with the menu written on the glass windows,where I had  such a nice time talking to the owner?
The moment I left the cruise terminal I knew it was not going to happen.But a local resident  had recommended Boudins some 2 km away. Having taken the first sip I was puzzled,is this the clam chowder I was dreaming of?

Before I took my fifth spoonful a massive plate of calamari was on the table. Are these people nuts? Surely you serve one course, and only when it is eaten, you bring the next.Having quickly assessed the situation I knew I was going to say good-bye to the   $ 17.I was not going to have it cold, I was not going to ask them to reheat it.The Yanks are well known for spitting into food if their goat is up, in fact never ever do I send the food back anywhere.I rather cut my losses.On the 2 km walk back I met

 several down and outs looking for food in bins, so one of them was going to have calamari with tartare sauce.
I had no energy to walk back to the ship and hopped into the first parked cab.The moment the driver  opened his mouth I knew I was making a big mistake.Looked like an idiot, talked like an idiot. They find me.But it was a short ride back and I let the cab take the strain.