Augusta Gloop and her Oompa Loompa

On Saturday, we intended to go to the opening of the newly renovated California Academy of Sciences in Golden Gate Park.

We knew it would be busy and we would have to get there early to queue, so instead of having a nice cup of cocoa and an early night on Friday, we stayed up late with a bottle of wine, singing terrible songs, karaoke style via Boogie on the Wii. You see, we challenged ourselves to sing all the songs, in turn. OK, it happened, let's speak of it no further. But, so you know, I am not ashamed.

Needless to say, we woke up late and after a seemingly endless faff of a morning, some of which involving having to get the right change for the Muni, and waiting for said Muni for an inordinate amount of time, then having to get the bus part of the way, by the time we got there (a shocking 3pm; we had to stop for lunch too, and make a slight detour via a bookshop in Haight and then get a bit lost) they weren't letting anyone else in. I found out today that they actually stopped letting people in at 1pm for a 9pm closing time. It gives you some idea of how many people showed up.

So, a day wasted* chasing a freebie later, we still had the free chocolate factory tour to look forward to. This time I wasn't disappointed. Again, we had decided to make a slight detour (1.5 mile walk) to a particular shop to look for an ice cream scoop. It always sounds so very very stupid in retrospect these wonderful ideas we have, but I assure you, it was well worth it, and it was just unfortunate that the shop had nothing even remotely ice cream scoopy inside.

We didn't have the change for the bus so we had to then walk another mile or so to the factory. Without a map of Berkeley, I had drawn something resembling directions on a piece of scrap paper. Miraculously they worked moreorless and we reached a point where we could begin to just follow our noses to get there. The sickly sweet chocolate aromas were not as bad as they are in Bournville (just outside Birmingham, UK) but they are very off putting to someone who has come all the way just to taste some chocolate. We were a tad early so got to start sampling in the cafe, in the form of a hot chocolate and a cold chocolate (mine was nicer, which I made a note of in our special food competition book**.)

The tour began by stepping outside to admire the brickwork of the factory. I will admit at this stage I was worried. The guide was an all-American guy who obviously played golf with the same friends every weekend and was well fed by his adoring wife. His terrible jokes began to grate before he even spoke and the other people on the tour terrified and mystified me. They guffawed at every joke, clapped people in union, but in seemingly random patterns, asked truly mind-blowingly stupid questions, and cooed over the chocolate samples. The chocolate was great, if you like a bitter sour after taste, an oily residue on your tongue and having to resist the urge to gag after eating it. It was though the best chocolate we have tasted so far.

I was impressed with the tour over all. It may have been because you got to sit down for 45 minutes and eat chocolate for free (however grim) and my feet were tired from walking. It was a better experience than Bournville (sorry Cadbury's) and I got to see American tourists in America which was a fascinating experience. The propaganda, sorry PR, of these places always intrigues me too and I say they have a good thing going on.

We decided not to walk back the way we came because it was a long journey and that if we walked in a random direction of my choosing, we would eventually reach a station to take us back to San Francisco. Mike was grumbling that if we could hideously lost that it would be all my fault, we didn't have a map, we would have to spend money on a cab, yadda yadda yadda... Since I have heard it all before, and trust wholeheartedly in my luck, I was undeterred. I asked a man on a bike where the nearest station was when we reached a main cross-roads, he sucked his teeth like a plumber and pointed but said it was a long walk. One cyclists long walk, is another's reasonable distance, so we walked. It was only a mile and my gamble had paid off - phew! We had passed through North Berkeley to the tip of South Berkeley without ever seeing the town centre. I liked the place. It can be a bit rough around the edges, but looks like 'proper' America - the America from the a childhood of TV; the Wonder Years, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, The Simpsons, Little House on the Prairie, well, not quite the last one.

We got back into the city, and realised that we had no money for the Muni home. A quick trip to the cash machine revealed that we actually had no money full stop (overdrafts in US are not a option at least on our account) so we had to walk home. It was 2.5 miles, making our total for the day 6.5 miles, at least according to Google maps. According to my feet, it was more like 8. All for a freebie. Still, it was a lovely weekend.


* this isn't strictly true, we visited a lovely bookshop and had a nice walk in the sunny park. On the way back, which also contained fraught, hot, packed and slow public transport, we made a detour to get to a different line and passed 4 children selling home made pink lemonade for a dollar. It was neon pink and looked terrifying but they were so disappointed when we declined, I almost wanted to double back and buy some until I was reminded by the handy microbiologist with me that it may well be my last neon drink. Still, one for my book of firsts which grows by the day.

** this does not actually exist; however you would be forgiven for thinking it did if you had ever had the pleasure of sharing a meal with myself and my husband. Mike holds his cards to his chest until the very last minute before revealing what he intends to eat, and then sometimes, makes a quick change when actually ordering, just to confound me. It is a rule that we cannot order the same thing, unless there are special circumstances, and after a tasting of our own meal, then a tasting of each others, one of us proclaims, toddler-like, "I win". Often, we both proclaim it, and say the other is wrong. I ,of course, can be gracious, when Mike's meal is better and agree with him, that he has indeed 'won' but alas, this maturity isn't often shared ;)