Pike Market was our first stop of the trip, a multi-floored rabbit warren of delight selling food, flowers, crafts, food, books, shoes, food, clothes, antiques, food, toys, jewellery and food. It contained busy thoroughfares of delighted shoppers stopping to watch men throw fish around (it's odd what delights some people), rickety ramps to even more levels of shops which ordinarily would have no business hanging around with each other, and a happy hubbub of contented locals and tourists alike. In about ten minutes (the first of the several hours we were to spend there) this market had overtaken Borough Market in London for the top spot of my favourite food buying haunts. With so much to see and try, it would have been rude not to. I had my first Reuben sandwich and I suspect it won't be my last; we had the best sausage we have had since moving to the States ( and no, that isn't much of a claim I admit, perhaps I should say only sausage) and sampled eight of the locally brewed beers. I'm sticking with San Francisco's Anchor Steam, but it pays to shop around.
We also had amazing tapas for dinner one night, and in honour of St Patrick's Day, I ate a local cheese and Guinness rarebit with scrambled eggs for breakfast on Saturday. Yes, for breakfast. Aren't I the gluttonous lush? Actually, I take it all back, I LOVE holidays.
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