Don't Call it San Fran
Then everyone will know you're a tourist.
Although, I think the stickers my Corolla's been accumulating over these past few weeks give it away. They've created a whole new level of paranoia over someone rear-ending the car. It's taken me months and many, many miles to collect those things!
Phillis and Scotty hosted my mom, Kevin, and I for a few nights in their beautiful home outside the city. We did all the things a tourist does- Fisherman's Wharf, Stinson Beach, Muir Woods, delicious food.
Muir Woods was my favorite part. We woke up early in the morning to get there before the crowds and the light was beautiful. A man that bumped into us on the trail, Ed, lives nearby and walks through the redwoods every day. He showed us everything from burls to banana slugs, and pointed out the trunks his (now grown) children used to play in when they were little. "I think these trees are looking back at us just as we are looking up at them," he said. "There's a lot of wisdom in these branches."
I think he might be right.
Then my dad flew out to meet us for a couple days before he, my mom, and Kevin headed up the coast. It was so nice to see both of my parents, a little piece of home from 2,000 miles away.