When you live in San Francisco, one of the funniest sights is double-decker buses full of tourists shivering in their short-sleeve shirts. They were promised sunny California–and instead they got Fog City. Not only is our weather moody year round, but the summer is especially bone chilling. Just as tourist season swings into high gear, that famous fog starts rolling in.
But there is a nice side to this unexpected chilly clime: it’s always a good day for a nice cup of coffee. Perhaps that’s why we take our coffee so seriously here. Book a San Francisco vacation package and check out my top four spots to get buzzed.
It was late at night, in the time before the U.S. state department travel warnings and color-coded terrorist threat levels. I was running on no sleep, and I was surrounded by smiling people jabbering at me in another language. Shaking my head to clear the brain-fog, it came to me that they were asking me a very important question: What toppings did I want on my pizza? (It was the mention of corn that had thrown me off.)
I’d just arrived in the Mexican mountain town of Uruapan after a winding bus ride from Mexico City. The friends I’d made just a few days before had dispersed into the night, and I found myself alone with my new “family” for the next four weeks (I was 16 years old and participating in a program called Experiment in International Living), a young couple with two adorable and chattery kids, all excited and speaking to me at a fast-clip in Spanish. (The true test of fluency in a foreign language has to be, I think, to try and have a normal conversation on very little sleep with an overexcited seven year old and her five-year-old brother, who will show no mercy with regard to their pace of speaking or your mispronunciations but instead look at you with totally unfiltered hilarity whenever you respond like you’re talking in some sort of monkey language.)