If walls could talk…

As I have been hinting making fun of over the last few posts – there is no lack of wall art in San Francisco. Day One I was incredibly snap happy, mentally gloating that I’d walked down the one street in the entire city that the most talented of artists had graced with their talent. “Jackpot!” I thought.

Day Two rolled around and I realized I was an idiot. Worse, a tourist idiot. Paintings, murals, mosaics, quotes, autographs, signatures – The city of San Francisco likes itself some legal graffiti.

Nevertheless, it does add another dimension to the already beautiful city. The following photos are a dwindled collection of my favorites. As in, I might frame one and give it to you for Christmas.

*This is also my very last post about San Francisco. I know, I’m sad too. I still plan to mention talk incessantly at some point about the superior quality of pizza at Flour + Water, as well as the same restaurants’ genius use of savory rosemary herb in one of its desserts (It’s not new but they do it best). Yes yes, I will be touching on that very soon…

This first picture is not technically “art” but cool just the same. We passed it while walking along Haight Street… which means if that wall really could say anything to the Haight – Ashbury community it would probably be something along the lines of, “Get a job.” or “Your dreadlocks smell really weird.” or “Your mom called from Nebraska. She says ‘get a job.'” or “I can see your bong from here.”

Something like that anyway.

The Haight – Ashbury district made us feel “weird.” It was hip and cool and the ideal place to buy a TV remote control bong hybrid (if there ever was a place), but it was touristy. And a little sad. I don’t know that the area still holds the same magic it once did when Jenny Gump was around. Still, totally worth the 14 hundred gazillion mile 2.5 mile (uphill, both ways – only possible in San Francisco) hike to get there, no doubt about that. 

“Walk around, please. Crazy dog lady taking pictures here!”

Hipsters, man.

I prefer a baby foot. But pretty.

“Look, it’s uphill both ways!”

I could go on and on about how much I enjoyed our time in San Francisco, but that would get boring real fast (for you). Instead, I will sum it up with the one thing that became glaringly clear within the first 12 hours of our trip.

Walking around San Francisco makes your butt hurt real bad.

Happy travels, y’all!



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