I Refuse to Wear Flowers in My Hair

I went on a magic carpet ride around San Francisco. If by magic carpet, you mean walked about 15 miles per day for ten days. I can see where the confusion comes in.

I started out each day with the Breakfast of Champions: burritos and a Tecate in the Mission.

Then I played Follow That Mariachi, because they're not usually the sort of thing I see at 9 in the morning. Maybe they had a secret mariachi hideout serving more burritos and Tecate? Sadly, I lost track of the mariachis when I stopped to ponder if the pigs in the Lucky Pork Market realized their good fate.

I stimulated the economy for a while by strolling up Valencia and buying Festivus presents I didn't even realize I needed. In Aquarius Records, you can find your very own copy of Steen an' Skin, the best disco reggae to come out of the Afro-Cuban scene. Or possibly the only disco reggae I've come across.

House of Caffeine, my ass. This place was a coffee shop:

The houses are endlessly fascinating. The Painted Ladies are smaller than they seem than on Full House. I'm sure I would feel that way about the Olsen twins, too.

Look closely at the house below; the entire facade is trompe l'oeil. The window frames are real, but that's it. The flags, gables, stonework --

--it's all a trick. Foiled by hippies again.