The day after our arrival, we walked to Fisherman's Wharf. It turned out to be rather a long walk. We just went in the direction of the ocean and kept going.
The summer fog cleared to leave us hot and blinking in the early afternoon.
Fisherman's Wharf is the most mundane and conventionally commerical part of San Francisco. Lots of chain restaurants and mainstream tourists. Crap like the Rainforest Cafe. However, there is an absolutely charming museum called the Musee Mecanique. It's a collection of vintage coin-operated fortune telling machines, moving dioramas, games and it's just wonderful and a little creepy.
Being completely sick pups, the Spousal Unit and me were charmed by all of the sex and violence exhibited by a number of the dioramas and the picture displays. You can insert a coin to see the activity in an "opium den" (lolling druggies, sinister Orientals), a "drunkard's dream" and several styles of executions for your education (hanging, guillotine). Sick, sick, sick.
Oh yeah, and if you get a chance, try to do as I did, and read American Gods right before visiting the Musee. You'll understand.
Next, kimono-clad women and primitive plants.
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