Prohibition

Monday 3 June 2013 Hot/Dry

Paul:

We still wake up on Eastern time giving us plenty of time to get ready, eat breakfast at Boudin and take a boat to Alcatraz. I believe I am getting so fat eating huge meals here. Breakfast at 0840 is Swiss cheese, bacon and bell peppers in a sour bread bowl. I am still full at 15.00.

Alcatraz is chaotic with people, some leaving some entering and some standing about dazed staring at sea gulls. I don't think Alcatraz would have been the same had it been run like this. Its population started with the Gold Rush in the 1870s and it became a prison for people who broke the Prohibition laws in the 20s and 30s. Amanda and I spend an interesting 3 hours on our audio tour of the prison commentary provided by former guards and inmates. I buy a prisoner's coat for $60.00 to wear in London when it gets colder, probably around July. The money goes towards the upkeep of the island and stops Indian protesters from returning again to claim the island as their own.

Still full from breakfast Amanda takes me to a Mexican restaurant she heard is very good. Despite being full I eat lunch and it is good. We finish eating at 15.00 and walk it off around Union Square. We visit the pharmacy for essential Senoma and Yosemite National Park supplies. Amanda is away to buy some jeans and I return to the hotel. Tonight we visit a Prohibition Speakeasy and a Chinese restaurant, our last night here.

We look so conspicuous pacing in a circle with a map looking for 501. The Prohibition bar is well disguised: a plain dark oak wooden door nestling in a red brick 4 storey building on the corner of Geary Street. An Indian couple join us at the door after we've knocked. I tell them if it's the wrong door I'm legging it with Amanda. At 18.30 we enter into a very dark room after giving the password and showing proof of ID. The bar is lit by candles but soon our eyes adjust and within minutes we are downing our first of three cocktails each listening to jazz standards and songs from Cole Porter, Puttin' on the Ritz'. Lindsey our waitress is congratulated on her dress by Amanda as I neck my third drink, Medicine Man. At 20.05 hours we have left it far too late to walk to the Chinese R&G restaurant so we take a yellow cab.

The restaurant is heaving with Chinese and us Ferrang types. Our order is taken quickly but the first course takes 40 minutes to arrive. The first course is mine double BBQ cooked pork, enough for two easily. Amanda and I have over ordered and the meal becomes an episode of a, 'Man vs Food', TV show. The remaining courses arrive quickly jostling for position on our small table. It is fabulous and the short, thin waiter cannot believe we are ploughing through: Peking duck, lemon chicken; crispy fried fig beef, Singapore noodles and prawns in black bean, a typical Friday night meal after closing time. Washed down with a 2011 Gewurztraminer we leave the restaurant to the applause from Chinese waiters and walk the 11 blocks back to our hotel. As we approach Powell Street j/w Sutter St the familiar voice of the black beggar rings out, "give me your spare money, just give me your money you arsehole!". All is well, it's just like 126 W street j/w Malcom X Boulevard all over again.

Amanda:

"Alcatraz - it's so much more than just a prison" the boat commentary concludes earnestly. I think they have hired that same man who does the voiceovers for cheesy action film trailers. Paul and I fall about laughing but we are the only ones.

It's a fascinating visit and I am about to exclaim disapprovingly over the glamorising of criminals by selling replications of their clothing when I notice Paul clutching a peacoat. Oh. Paul who ate a loaf of bread stuffed with breakfast at 9am does not want lunch so I invite him to watch me eat a Mexican starter to guard against the strong cocktails coming up next. He caves and has a starter too.

I want to wear my teal satin cocktail dress but Paul counsels against it. I think it would be fine for the bar but not for the chinese. Finding the bar is funny as they pretend to be a bar from the prohibition - you have to find an anonymous address, give the password you've been issued and are then ushered in to intense darkness. We are seated at a small booth with a directory of unfamiliar cocktails - we adjust to both the lack of light and the menu and having been determined to have only two cocktails, somehow find ourselves having a third. We head off for Chinese - it's unfamiliar American chinese and the waiter firmly tells us we needed half a duck. We did not. I cave very quickly and Paul manfully ploughs through a respectable amount.