And this is how he repays it.
OK, so he's a bachelor. He can't cook. And he is rather tidy, at least judging from his bathroom. Oh, and his fridge.
Also, we stocked the orange juice.
I mean, seriously??
Notice the paper bag/trash can. In the sink.
Needless to say, we went out. A lot.
On our first full day, Magnus recommended a crepe place nearby, so we boogied on over and bought ourselves what we thought would be a nice little snack savored delicately on our forks. Then we were given this.
Nutella, strawberries, and vanilla bean gelato in a crepe cone. Messier than it looks and even better than it sounds.
After our dainty breakfast we took the bus over to Golden Gate Park, stopping in a place we'd only driven by before: the Conservatory of Flowers.
But first, silliness.
So there we were, done taking our weirdo snapshots and all ready to go inside, when something caught my eye. I paused.
Lauren, look! It's a couple dressed in the height of Victorian fashion! How quaint! Wait till they get a little closer!
Then I froze.
Ladies and gentleman, the award for the world's craziest facial hair goes to the gentleman in the top hat!
And I'm pretty sure that was a little daisy at the end of it.
When we picked up our jaws enough to go inside, we saw how lovely the Conservatory actually is. The entire building categorizes its plants by environment and divides the room into these microclimates, so one place would be cool and shady and the next oppressively humid.
Unfortunately we couldn't disturb the plants too much, otherwise I definitely would have climbed in there and pulled a Kate from LOST hiding from the smoke monster. No? Too much?
Uh, am I the only one who never thought about how pineapples grow? Because holy cow, how adorable are pineapple plants??
We then moved into the tropical room.
And this is what happened immediately to my glasses.
They had this eerie giant tank in the middle of the room that was murky and covered with lotus leaves, so you wouldn't be able to tell an alligator or Jason Voorhees was lurking in it until too late.
We left to find an even colder, foggier city than before.
The only thing to do, then, was find pizza. And thanks to my coworkers Natalie and Drew, boy, did we ever find some. Escape from New York Pizza is a place wars could be fought over. Hearts broken. Wallets emptied.
"The Gourmet": spinach, feta, sun-dried tomatoes and artichokes. In the background, a slice of pesto.
Then the holy grail of pizzas: "You Say Potato." Thin slices of potato and whole cloves of roasted garlic over a pesto base.
The crust was wonderfully crisp, not soggy or laden down. The toppings themselves were fresh and flavorful, and service was fast. Cash only is how you know it's good. That was some of the best pizza of my life.
Afterward we stumbled into the San Francisco Giant Robot, where there was a gallery of artwork devoted to pencil as a medium.
Now I can't get the pizza out of my head. Oh man. That pizza. I burn, I pine, I perish! Here, in case you forgot:
I leave you now with a video taken at some point that day, recapping an experience Lauren and I had had a few minutes prior. That one "heyooo" heard in the beginning is a reminder of the egregious use we made of that word during our trip. Like, every hour. It was awesome.
