Sunday at Fisherman’s Wharf

Although I’ve lived in San Francisco for almost three years I’ve never been to Fisherman’s Wharf. So last Sunday I called a friend and we headed over for a little afternoon sightseeing. The sun was out, the air was brisk, and the bay was all a-sparkle. First stop, Pier 39. Yes, it’s clogged with tourists and pocked with overpriced fish joints and tacky ephemera, but isn’t that part of its charm? A man playing bongo drums, frolicking children in funny hats, and in the harbor, row upon row of fat and happy sea lions, barking and lolling in the sun and every once in awhile pointing their noses straight up into the air and arching their backs like expert yoga practitioners.
In the center of the pier, adjacent to a carousel, was a small stage with a wee gray-haired woman promising an exciting show to a gathering crowd. She performed a series of small feats, all the while making jokes in a charming British accent. For the grand finale, she had two men from the audience balance a pole on their shoulders while she walked across it and then juggled three lit torches. “Not bad for a 54 year old woman, eh?” She quipped as she dismounted.
Only a few feet away we found a 3-D ride simulation called Turbo Ride, with three different adventure options. We opted for “Dino Island II.” After paying our 12 bucks we were led into a theater where we strapped ourselves into large, spaceship-like chairs in front of the screen and hooked on our 3-D glasses. When the film came on our chairs rose and began to move in sync with the film – simulating a ride in a helicoptor that lands on an island full of dinosaurs. We were plunged into the sea, flown through jungle, nearly eaten by a Tyranosaurus Rex, and attacked by a swarm of humungous mosquitos (at which point I cringed in my seat and covered my eyes, the effect was so realistic). Incredibly cheesy but a lot of fun. The only small disappointment was that the arcade, which is where you get funneled into after coming out of the Turbo Ride theater, didn’t have skee-ball.
Next we walked down to the Musee Mecanique, home to a large collection of antique coin-operated machines: miniature ballrooms and scenes from the old West, fortune tellers, Love-O-Meters, 3-D slides of the 1903 earthquake – all brought to life by a quarter or two. At the doorway is Laughing Sal, a life-sized mechanical woman in a glass box sporting a peasant skirt and a couple of missing teeth. Put a quarter in and she begins to shake and laugh a laugh that borders on maniacal. We watched with amusement as a small boy slowly backed away from her towering form, his hand clutching his mother, his eyes wide with terror.
We’d planned to walk to Ghiradelli Square but couldn’t seem to find it. We ended up at Scoma’s, a little old-timey seafood restaurant on Pier 47 that seemed one of the least tourist-y of the bunch. The food was good (I had grilled halibut with mashed potatoes and vegetables) but overpriced and everything kind of tasted like it had been soaked in butter for a couple hours. The light as the sun set was beautiful, however, glinting off the water.
It was dark by the time we headed back to the car, but the sidewalks were still teeming with sightseers and vendors peddling their wares. How strange to discover a whole other world only miles away from where I live: like going on vacation without ever leaving the city.