Dear Tartine Bakery, Will you marry me? Wait, no, I can’t do that!!! Why? For starters, I’d get super pudgy and I’m just not up for that right now. But mostly, MOSTLY, I can’t do that because I belong to this guy (please see below):
The best part of the café was meeting up with an old friend, Audrey. In the early 2000s, the three of us shared an experience like no other, on the island of Crete. Will and I were theatre students at the time and Audrey was the documentarian. We were exploring the breaking of language barriers through heightened physicality. Bosnians, Greeks, one German, a few professors from Chicago and a bunch of hyper American college kids from Virginia Tech gathered in paradise for one month to explore gargantuan themes. It was a magnificent time.
The orange chair series.Much of the morning was spent interrupting each other with eager stories to tell, drinking too much coffee at multiple notable venues (like the famous Ritual Grounds definitely rivaled Portland's Stumptown), eating too much luxurious food, laughing a lot and finding new excuses not to say goodbye.
(We took a nice little break at a great Mexican restaurant called, Regalito. They had DELICIOUS margaritas.)
Audrey took us on a lovely little tour through Valencia Street, not passing by any of the quirky wonders that could only survive in a thriving city like SF.