RSSTrapped In the East Bay
Feb 21
California Bay Area hotels, California, San Francisco Airport Hotels No Comments
When a lad with scarcely a clue arrives on foreign shores he must, like Blanche DuBois, rely on the inevitable kindness of strangers. And like that hothouse flower, I (being the lad) has to struggle to keep my fragile sanity intact as I was besieged on all fronts by something I hadn’t expected, but had been warned about: the friendliness of the Americans. Being English — and I only say this as a point of fact — we are raised believing the only place the Yanks will be civil is in the hinterland.
My expectations of a cold, heartless “big city” welcome fell to the wayside when I stumbled out of the SFO shuttle. Somehow, I still can’t recall how, I had managed to bypass the heart of the airport and was transported to a fairly robust urban center. I would come to find out this was South San Francisco. At the time, I thought I had arrived on the outskirts of the City itself. Little did I know I was still within a stone’s throw of the airport.
As I made my rounds at the San Francisco airport hotels, searching for a front desk clerk who would accept pounds Sterling as payment, I was struck by how breathtaking the area was. if this was merely a city some fifteen minutes from the actually City, I was filled by a strange sense of anticipation and dread. I likened the feeling to smiling too often, and for too long — after a bit you being to look and feel like a psychopath.
Simply glancing at a regional map in my hotel room, it was striking how incredibly cozy the Bay Area was. It seemed to me one could easily jaunt across the Bay, into say Berkeley or Piedmont, have a cuppa and then hop over to Sausalito for a bit of sightseeing and then be in San Jose for lunch. To my chagrin, this was far, far from the case. In fact, simply crossing the Bay was strenuous enough to constitute a day’s work. had I the capital, I would have simply stayed the night.
My first day in the Bay Area was eventful, as indeed I did cross over to the East Bay (comprising Berkeley, Oakland and all points east of the bay). I disembarked from the metro (known locally as the BART) and found myself thrust into the bustling, fashionable center of Berkeley — or was it Oakland. There is always some overlaying of the cities and often it occurs at particularly fashionable streets. I had much to learn and an entire day trapped in the East Bay to learn it.
Should you find yourself at the doorstep of any of the fine San Francisco airport hotels, you can be assured you are in good company and in even better hands.