In which Roz and Layla traverse city forests, drink cocktails and see films

Next morning, I slept till the civilized hour of 8, whilst Layla woke early and checked her emails only to find one which she then stewed on for the next two hours whilst I slept. My awakening was not therefore the most relaxing experience, and I used this as an excuse to suggest we head to the Blue Bottle a cafe for the third consecutive morning (which we duly did - this time we both had poached eggs on toast - desperate times lead to desperate acts) before beginning our day properly. 

Our plan for the morning was to explore the Mission and the Castro areas, both of which have a reputation for being gay and hippy-ish. Our first stop in the Mission was a beautiful coffee shop where we sat and bemoaned the fact that DC (or our bit of DC) doesn't have lovely cafes where you can hang out for hours. We then meandered on, popping into the occasional shop and feeling bemused that the temperature had dropped 15 degrees since the day before. We acquired a small amount of cool jewellery in one shop and then spied a beautiful bike in a shop window. We went in to gawp, and we both lusted over the bikes which had an old fashioned and shiny air about them. We eventually walked out with the address of the owner's distributor in DC (close to our house) and having purchased two beautiful pictures (which are to be shipped to us). After this extravaganza of shopping, we headed over to the Castro, which was very gay and popped into to an Italian deli for lunch where I sneakily charged up my phone a bit behind the counter - sadly managing to give everyone else in the deli the impression I was committing a federal crime, so sheepish and guilty were my looks. It's very convenient having full access to iPhones with Yelp and Google Maps etc when on holiday in the US, but there is no back-up like the Lonely Planet guides we tote around in our handbags in more exotic parts.

After lunch we decided to head to the cinema, and saw the new Almodovar film "I'm So Excited". We got their early and meandered round a mall wondering why people enjoy being there so much until we came across the Ghiradelli store (when we stopped wondering and focussed on chocolate). The film proved to mad and quite fun and was an enjoyable way of spending an afternoon and we returned to the hotel to have a quick free cocktail before our very early dinner reservation at Kokkari Estiatorio. It's one of the best restaurants in San Francisco and it was bustling when we arrived at 5.30. We started with prosecco, and I was enjoying various mezze very much when Layla started to think that she was having an allergic reaction to something. Swallowing an extra couple of mouthfuls of the grilled cheese starter we were sharing (just in case this was a ploy by Layla) I dashed to the local supermarket and acquired some antihistamines. By the time I returned, Layla was feeling better and on establishing that I had actually bought her Nytol (one day I will get good at American drugs) decided to do without. I kindly ate the delicious corn dish that she suspected had given her the allergic symptoms because I am willing to sacrifice myself like that. 

After our early dinner, we dashed back to the Castro Theatre (the trip to the supermarket or the greed over the food having taken more time than we had anticipated) to see a film called Josie and the Pussycats. The main reason we were going there was to actually go into the cinema (rather than to see the film) - it is an old art deco cinema, which shows somewhat forgotten films. It is a truly beautiful place - almost like a church when you look at some parts of it. But in fact the film turned out to be very jolly (and I would recommend it over the Almodovar). After the film we headed to a bar in the Castro called Blackbird to sip cocktails. All in all, the day ended up much better than it started. 

Next morning we decided to break with the Blue Bottle Cafe tradition (reluctantly) and went to a cool place in the Castro called Kitchen Story, where we ate eggs (we must ban all eggs from our diet for the next month after this trip!) and drank mimosas before heading out on an iphone-guided five mile walk which we had been suggested by the girl who had taken us on our hike on our first day in the city. It started off at the Castro Theatre where we'd been before, but then took us through alleyways we would never have discovered alone, up hills (including the Twin Peaks), through a Eucalyptus forest, down staircases that went on for blocks and through a park with concrete slides meant for children but which we both went on (Layla acquitted herself much better than me, but neither of us did as well as the small children who were far too blasé for 8 year olds...). Half way along the hike, we heard about the plane which crashed at the San Francisco airport which was disconcerting and depressing. But other than that, it was a lovely walk but we were more than ready for lunch by the time we were finished just before 3. We went to a fairly nice Mexican place where I had a salad, and we don't talk about what Layla had (eggs!). We then headed to a coffee shop called Philz which had been recommended by a friend and which apparently people will drive for hours to get to. It was somewhat embarrassing that I actually preferred some of the other coffees I had had in the city, but we were pleased to have visited a San Francisco institution. Layla doesn't like coffee, so our next step was to go to a chocolate shop which was somewhat off the beaten track, and entirely deserted. But the salted caramels were nice and we went from there to a neighboring cafe to drink sparkling water and have a read of our books. We then retreated to our hotel to get ready for the evening (whilst simultaneously sampling one of the hotel's free cocktails). 

It wasn't long before we were back out in the Misson area. The main plan for the evening was to go to Foreign Cinema, a cool restaurant that screens films silently during dinner and which was showing The Artist that night. But our reservation wasn't till late (for us - 8.30) so we went to the adjoining cocktail bar which was vaguely Russian cosmonaut themed and consumed cocktails and truffled popcorn. Dinner proved to be fun, if a little chilly (though they did have outdoor heaters). When Layla declared she had a headache, I resigned myself to hunting for a chemist / supermarket but was saved by a kindly waiter who gave her Advil and told us not to tell anyone... 

And then it was our last morning. We are often not good at last mornings (we both feel so depressed at imminently not being on holiday any more) but we did rather well on this occasion. First, there was breakfast in an area called The Haight - one of the only areas we hadn't visited yet - in a place called the Squat and Gobble which was good if somewhat deserted. It's the original epicentre of the hippy universe, apparently, and looks it. We then meandered round the Golden Gate Park, seeing pretty bits we hadn't been able to see on our bikes. I then suggested we go on the carousel - Layla adores them - and this proved a very jolly end to our park experience. As a reward for taking Layla on the carousel she suggested we return to the Blue Bottle Cafe for one final coffee for me. Alas, the queue proved to be too long to acquire coffee and catch our plane, but I appreciated the thought. And that was it - the end of our mini-break to San Francisco. A brilliant city, that I can't wait to come back to. 

Books read whilst on holiday:

Roz - Archipelago (Monique Roffey); No Fond Return of Love (Barbara Pym); Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Demin (David Sedaris) and the very beginning of the epic A Suitable Boy (Vikram Seth).

Layla - Tales of the City (Armistead Maupin); Specimen Days (Michael Cunningham). 

In which Layla and Roz cycle across Golden Gate Bridge and explore some science

The next morning jet lag woke us early again but this time, Roz had a plan. The hotel let us borrow two beautiful Dutch bikes and before breakfast we decided to get into our running gear, leap onto our bicycles, head to Golden Gate Park, and go for a run. This was an excellent 7.30am plan, except that the park was further away than anticipated... And it was up some of San Francisco's famous hills. As I heaved my bike up near-vertical slopes, I dreamed of the breakfast I had not yet had. Eventually we made it to the park, which is beautiful and large. We cycled past museums and flowerbeds to get to Stow Lake where Roz ordered me off my bike.

Off we went for a jog round the perimeter of Stow Lake, then the perimeter of the island within the lake. It was a glorious sunny morning, and extremely scenic with ducks and Chinese pagodas galore, so I was almost not resentful. But I was glad when it was time to get on our bikes and we decided to explore the rest of the park - so off we zoomed up and down hills, past bison paddocks, to the beach at the Pacific Ocean. And then back again. Turns out it's bigger than Central Park and the 5th most visited park in the US. By the time we eventually got home, we'd cycled 14 miles and run 1 or 2 - not to mention scaling giant hills. We had earned our breakfast!

After returning to the hotel to shower, we went to the lovely Blue Bottle Cafe for a repeat order of yesterday's superlative breakfast, and concocted a plan to cycle across Golden Gate Bridge. Now, having done our giant cycling holiday to Burma, we assumed we were just as fit now as then. And misreading the map, I cheerily deemed my little sundress appropriate cycling garb for a few miles...

Soon we were cycling around the Embarcadero (marina), past parks, boats, beach, sculptures, Ghiradelli Square (stopped for ice cream, chocolate, and paddling in the bay), and past yet more park. This was further than expected! And since it was the 4th July, also insanely busy. "The Golden Gate bridge is up in the sky - how would we get on it?", asked Roz. We were soon to learn. The bike path followed the water, on and on, up a horrible giant hill until we eventually made it to the start of the bridge and its lovely cycle lane. 

Shrouded in mist, the cycle across the bridge was very cool: chilly and windy and brilliant, with the stylish red girders making the bridge really beautiful, the water raging far below and the cityscape giving way to pretty hills as we eventually hit the other side. A fab experience. We then followed a path and then a road all the way to the pretty coastal town of Sausalito, facing San Francisco across the water. We had a delicious lunch (and beer) at a very pleasant Italian restaurant, while musing that we had cycled about 25 miles that day and were completely exhausted. When it was time to stand up, we found we almost couldn't! But we wobbled towards the pier and caught a scenic ferry past the island of Alcatraz and homewards. We wobbled the final mile home and returned our bikes gratefully before heading upstairs to collapse on the bed. 

Well, for about 15 minutes! We had an appointment with the Exploratorium - a cool science experiment hands-on type museum on the waterfront, which was delightfully grown-ups-only that night, with drinks and all manner of interactive fun. We spent a happy hour playing with all the experiments and sipping wine, before grabbing a cable car to dinner - a tasty Indian restaurant called Dosa on Fillmore because it was on the lovely, posh-but-hipster Fillmore Street. As we caught a cable car home afterwards, we heard the booms of Independence Day fireworks exploding all around us. But, alas, we couldn't prop our eyes open long enough for a proper look - we are very much out of our Burma shape!

In which Layla and Roz celebrate Roz's birthday energetically in San Francisco

Roz's birthday is the day before Independence Day in America, so with that day already a holiday, it would be churlish not to turn it into a birthday mini break. And thus on the eve of her birthday did we take to the skies. Destination: San Francisco. Roz had been there overnight for work, and I'd never been. But we'd both read so many books about it that it felt like we knew the city, and we were prepared to fall in love. We were told July is always cold and foggy, so armed with cardigans aplenty, we disembarked.

Our attempt to take public transport to our hotel was foiled by a strike, but a quick taxi later, we were at our hotel, checked in, and off out to a nice wine bar near Union Square for some wine flights... And bruschetta flights... And cheese flights... And chocolate flights. We went home feeling very pleased with our first hour or two in San Francisco.

Up early thanks to jet lag, it was time for Roz's birthday to commence, with the opening of 15 presents I'd brought with me, including a vibrant new handbag and a photo book of our adventures in the last year. Suitably inspired, we headed out for breakfast at the excellent and funky Blue Bottle cafe, where we had delicious poached eggs, and yoghurt, and Roz had fancy coffee - it's like a science lab for coffee! Afterwards, we caught a famous San Francisco streetcar to Levi Plaza (home to the HQ of Levi Strauss) where we met the tour guide we'd booked to take us on an 'urban hike' of the area featured in the book series Tales of the City - Telegraph Hill and Russian Hill, and the Marina. The first thing we learned was that Levi Strauss was the investor rather than the inventor of jeans - but got all the credit. Poor Jacob Davis got nothing (except, presumably, money). We saw an array of jeans dating back to the 1880s - they looked remarkably similar to current jeans. Then we set off in the blazing sunshine, up massive steep sets of stairs with quaint and charming little lanes coming off them, entirely inaccessible to cars. A strange sight in America! There were amazing flowers and plants and hummingbirds too - it was like being in the tropics! We wound round to Coit Tower, and to the crazily steep Lombard Street that has 8 hairpin bends in it so cars can drive round it, and to the Chinatown, and the Italian Quarter, and most excitingly of all, the real Barbary Lane (Macondray Lane), home to the characters in Tales of the City. The whole area was quirky and charming and pretty, and alarmingly hilly - in one place there are steps built into the pavement as it's so steep. And the many neighbourhoods parks are essentially vertical. 

We had a lovely time and afterwards had to dash home on the F cablecar to change out of our jeans in view of the scorching sun... And then had a quick lunch in Town's End restaurant, mainly because it was next to the kayak place. roz and I love kayaking in Washington, but San Francisco is another story - and not just because it was over three times the price (this is NOT a cheap city). It's on the bay so it's seawater and there are waves. We pottered down a little channel that passed by the baseball stadium and many houseboats, and under lots of bridges, and returning to the hotel afterwards by underground, we delighted in what an excellent time we'd had - even if we had an unfortunate level of sunburn! 

That night we headed out to two extremely cool reservations. The first was Wilson and Wilson, which is a speakeasy inside a speakeasy! We gave our password and were shown into the main speakeasy, then brought through a secret door to another. Wilson and Wilson pretends to pose as a private detective agency and the menus are disguised as case reports. All good fun, and some excellent cocktails, mixed very precisely by a pleasant bartender. 

Afterwards, we decided to walk the 40 minutes up a giant hill past cool little bars and lots of houses to Gary Danko. Gary Danko is San Francisco's best restaurant, and it is hard to get reservations. When Roz let it be known that she would like to dine there on her birthday I dedicated myself to trying to get a reservation, and the previous day, hooray! At last I had been successful. We entered with much excitement and had a 4 course tasting menu of deliciousness, culminating in a happy birthday cake for Roz and so much cheese that it actually, unbelievably defeated us. Jet lag kicking in, we sipped our last drops of wine and decided to head for home. Rather than a taxi, we waited for the cable car, which turned out to be much different than the one from earlier - old fashioned and beautiful, we sat on a little outdoor bench as it trundled up and down impossibly steep hills and we giggled and shrieked and deemed it the perfect end to a birthday.

In which Layla and Roz explore an island and see lots of scientists

By Layla 

Glowing with pride at my Moth success the previous night, Roz and I were up bright and early, and branching in Bubby's, a child-tactic but very cool local Tribeca brunch stalwart. Fully topped up on my pancake quota (Roz smugly had granola and fruit), we dashed onto the subway, leapt off at the southernmost tip of Manhattan, and zoomed with all the speed a pair of pancake-full girls in sandals can muster - and made the boat to Governors Island with moments to spare. This funny little island, a 10 minute free ferry ride from Battery Park (with views of the Statue of Liberty) is car-free, open only on weekends, and is essentially a pleasure island, a pretty, grassy picnic place with various activities and amazing views of the New York skyline. We started by strolling, then came upon these crazy family-sized quad bicycles with a roof, and couldn't resist! Off we pedaled, all the way around the perimeter of the island, and giggled extravagantly as we demonstrated our steering finesse. Afterwards, ice creams in hand, we strolled through the grassy grounds back to the ferry, having had a most satisfactory morning.

We subway-ed up to Greenwich Village and installed ourselves for lunch in the charming La Lanterna di Vittorio, before the next event in our World Science Festival extravaganza: a meet the author event. After an okay interview with the author of a book about IVF, we got the very cool Mario Livio who was charming on astrophysics and 'Brilliant Blunders' - errors made my esteemed scientists like Darwin and Kelvin, which resulted in new discoveries. Roz was so taken with him that she bought the book. We then stopped for a quick cake (ahem) before a stroll to our next science event - only to find it had moved venue. Cue a very hot dash across Washington Square Park and some angry tweeting... But the Science and Story event we got to in the end was probably our favourite event - three science writers talking about the state of science writing, and general science stuff. Really interesting and entertaining. 

Our tweeting zeal had sucked away our iPhone batteries and thus our map lifeline, so we diverted to an Apple Store before proceeding by subway to Cafe Mono near Union Square for a delicious tapas meal and then one of our most-anticipated events: The Moth, a storytelling event that featured scientists. This promised well, but the air con was a bit pathetic and we were too hot to really enjoy it. I was gratified to encounter a few people who remembered me from the previous night and congratulated me on my story. Ah, minor celebrity! After the show, Roz and I popped into a cute little wine bar (where I ordered a wine flight and got an extravagant four glasses whilst Roz sipped her one glass and looked perplexed by this turn of events!) before subway-ing home to bed, in denial that the end of our holiday could possibly be approaching...

And yet it was true. We got up today determined to make our last day cheery. First the chores - luggage into storage at Penn Station, horrendous queue at TKTS in Times Square for discounted tickets to Newsies, a popular newish Broadway musical, and then a subway down to Greenwich Village. Phew. Let the fun commence!

The first stop for fun was the science festival street fair in Washington Square Park. But while all the experiments and stilt walkers dressed as a praying mantis looked fun, it was about a million degrees. So hard to remember the chill of Seattle only a few days ago! We took refuge in a jazz brunch at North Square, where I would particularly recommend the pecan pumpkin pancakes, though the ambience was a tad staid. Afterwards, we went to Three Lives, a lovely independent bookstore, where we browsed vigorously and Roz bought yet more books, before retiring to a nearby cafe for drinks, reading (me) and blogging (Roz). Before long it was time to head back uptown to Newsies. Really fun to see a Broadway musical, though I disapprove of them not selling ice cream at the interval like in London. 

We dashed out as the curtain fell in a race against time to grab our bags and make our train (though catching a train in the US is never that dramatic as you can change ticket time at the last minute with a handy app), and then, as we stood in the hot, stressful crowds of Penn Station, we decided to end our holiday on an extravagance. Well, an extravagance of $15, for which princely tip we partook for the first time in Amtrak's 'red cap' service. For the price of a tip, this red cap-sporting chap took our two suitcases, carried them down to the train before anyone else was allowed to board, and in the most serene and delightful way, we found ourselves relaxing into our seats while the rest of the station was fighting to get her the platform. A fitting end to what has been quite an excellent holiday. Next stop: home!

As for our holiday reading, I devoured Where'd You Go Bernadette by Maria Semple, The Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet by Jamie Ford, I'm Not From Here Myself by Bill Bryson, and I am currently reading The 100 Year Old Man Who Climbed Out The Window and Disappeared by Jonas Jonasson. Roz meanwhile read How to Be An American Housewife by Margaret Dilloway, A Lady Cyclist's Guide to Kashgar by Suzanne Joinson, The 10pm Question by Kate di Goldi, A Single Man by Christopher Isherwood, and I'm Not from Here Myself by Bill Bryson... And she is currently reading one of her Elliott Bay Book Company purchases, When You Are Engulfed in Flames by David Sedaris. Phew.

In which Roz and Layla go to War and Peace: the pop musical and Layla has five minutes of fame

By Roz

We were definitely yawning when we arrived into JFK (the early start hadn't enthused either of us) and this no doubt explains how we ended up on the Air Train going round and round the terminals (instead of going to the subway stop) for longer than is kind to admit. But notice it we finally did, and soon we were speeding towards our hotel in Tribeca. We checked in, noticing that (a) the hotel was a lot nicer than the last one we stayed in in New York and (b) there was a Starbucks in the hotel lobby which was likely to improve Layla's life considerably (since she is sent to get my coffee each morning - notwithstanding she doesn't drink it herself - I am a cruel wife). We washed the journey off and changed into better outfits (more suited to the dramatically hotter weather) and made our way to the top of the High Line Park. We've been there many times, of course, but we feel very fond of it and it struck us as a good way to reacquaint ourselves with NYC again. We wandered along, speculating about what it would be like to live by it (annoying, surely, to have passers-by now able to peer through your windows) and settled down at a wine bar on the High Line overlooking the Statue of Liberty for a glass of wine and some snacks (both of us being somewhat uncertain about what meal we should be having given the time difference) and gazed with enthusiasm at the fab Manhattan skyline, and returned to speculating how I can get the Foreign Office to post me here...

From the park it was a hop, skip and a jump to get to the theatre where we would be seeing Pierre, Natasha and the Great Comet of 1812. We were both somewhat intrigued as to how this would turn out.  It had been my idea, having read rave reviews in Time Out and so forth. It was staged in a specially built (well, constructed might be a better word - form the outside it looked like a building site) venue and was a pop musical based on part of War and Peace (yes, Layla had the same face as you, dear reader, now have when I first suggested it). The inside of the venue was fab - a sort of cross between a Speigletent and a Edinburgh festival venue. We'd arrived early (as recommended) and settled down at cabaret tables to some prosecco, vodka cocktails, borscht, salad, Russian bread and a few other random Russian-themed things (most of which were included in the ticket price). All very nice (if random). And the musical itself proved to be really quite good, and very jolly. There wasn't a stage and the performers were all around the room which added some fun (though I had to remember not to lean back in my seat too much for fear of tripping the performers). We left, congratulating ourselves on an excellent start to the next leg of our holiday, popped into a jazz bar called B Flat for a nightcap (and agreed that I should definitely learn to play the trumpet - an enthusiasm we have not subsequently discussed!) and then went to bed.

The next morning we slept late, felt guilty - and then reminded ourselves we were on holiday and could do such a rash thing as sleeping in. We headed to a diner for breakfast / early lunch before hiring bikes to cycle round Manhattan again. We usually go anti-clockwise, but to be a rebel I suggested we go up the west side first. This had pros and cons.  The west side is definitely the most beautiful bit of the route - a bike path all the way, by the water, going past - and through - parks. And it meant we got much further up than we ever have before (since you can't get to the very tip of north Manhattan since it is closed off). But it also meant that the second half of the cycle is the less nice east side - which disappointingly had even more closed bike paths than usual. But it was lovely - it is such a fab way to see bits of New York that you wouldn't otherwise see and the weather was brilliant (if a bit too hot, ironically given our complaints about the weather in Seattle). We got back later than expected (I'd hoped our Burma cycling would have made us better at biking, and therefore a bit faster - but alas this proved not to be the case) and so, having returned our bikes to the bike shop after 5 solid hours of cycling, we headed back for a fast shower before an early dinner.

Our dinner was at a place called Balaboosta, a Mediterranean restaurant that's well-reviewed. It was all wood, exposed bricks and bottles of wine on the walls and had a nice ambience.  We enjoyed our food, though we ate quickly so that we could get to the Housing Works Bookstore which where the main action of the night was to happen: a Moth show (in collaboration with the World Science Festival) on the theme of Natural Selection. It was a Story Slam which means people put their names in the hat and 10 are randomly picked to tell their stories on the theme. By getting there a bit early we managed to find a good piece of floor to sit on (ah so elegant!) and then I added to the excitement of the evening by turning to Layla and saying "you've always wanted to tell a story at the Moth: why not tonight?!". She looked torn. She looked very anxious. But she also looked very excited. Rapidly deciding that one of her regular stories could be pruned to fit the time limit, and adapted to focus on natural selection, she put her name in the hat and began to rehearse under her breath. Each time a name was called, we looked at each other anxiously wondering if this would be the moment we'd hear her name. It never was and we were immensely disappointed. Though not so disappointed that we didn't really enjoy the stories, which were on the whole excellent. My personal favourite was that of a French brain surgeon who the whole audience simultaneously loved and hated and who was mocked by the compere after for his suave punch lines which were always along the lines of "And then I performed his life saving brain surgery". At the end of the stories, the Moth tradition is for all those who haven't got to tell their story to go up on stage and say the first line of their story. They looked in the hat and found that there was only one name which hadn't been called - Layla's. I was bitter. She got up on stage and said her first line: "As I made my escape to Canada on a Chinese tour bus, I knew natural selection had decided I was not to be research scientist". The compere looked impressed, the audience went crazy, someone shouted "encore!", and I took this idea up with vigour. Before long, the entire room was shouting for her to come back up to the stage. And so it was that in breach of Moth protocol, Layla was brought back to the Moth stage and told her story due to audience demand (the first time this has ever happened) and to great acclaim. Loads of people came up afterwards and congratulated her on her story, telling her it was the best. We went for a very jolly celebratory drink to the nearby Grey Dog bar / cafe - a venue we love - and I toasted my wife, so proud of her first appearance on the Moth stage. 

In which Layla and Roz inadvertently attend a lesbian wedding and climb a mountain in heels

By Layla

Up bright and early - or rather dull-but-not-raining and early, we seized the importance of our last Seattle day by leaping up, dashing to Joe's for some breakfast granola (Roz) and oatmeal (me) - to counteract our days of decadent egg-and-avocado-based breakfasts of late - and dashed down the hill to catch a bus and deposit us by the water, where we caught the 11:20 ferry to Bainbridge Island. Taking ferries around the water surrounding Seattle, known as the Puget Sound, is a popular activity for Seattlites and tourists alike. We'd previously planned a 3 hour journey each way to the San Juan Islands, but as the wind picked up and the grey rain clouds mocked us, we thought 35 minutes was a better bet. And it was lovely - not only did we get to enjoy the Seattle skyline from the water and see various scenic views of island countryside, we also happened upon a lesbian wedding, and cheerily stood on the upper deck, teeth chattering, and watched them saying their vows and noting their goosebumps - a cardigan would not have gone amiss! 

When we got to the island, which was like a little 1960s seaside village, we walked down the quaint but unexciting high street, had a little browse in the quite extensive bookshop, and settled ourselves down for lunch at a cafe near the marina where we made up for our egg deficit and sampled the local Bainbridge beer while noting the clouds had burst during our meal and the rain was beating down steadily. It had settled to a sprinkle by the time we left in doomed pursuit of a 'Waterfront Path', but we did walk through some woods and eventually found our way back to the boat, just in time for its departure back to Seattle.

Back on dry land, we walked up a very steep hill with the aid of some salted caramel chocolates, and visited the library. Tis very impressive irregular glass building looks amazing from the outside, and while it was not quite as thrilling from the inside, we enjoyed a quick potter, before catching a bus to the Space Needle. This icon of Seattle was built for the world fair and was also the inspiration for the Jetsons' house (if you ever watched the cartoon, you'll have a vision). A pleasing lack of queues meant we zoomed straight to the top and had an unexpectedly lovely time strolling round the circular patio and taking in the views across the city, ocean, lake, and mountains (and rain clouds smiling benignly upon us - hooray!).

We took the bus home grudgingly back, then headed off on a half hour trek to Rover's, one of Seattle's very best restaurants which is sadly about to close down. Luckily we got in before it did, as the was a decadent and glorious vegetarian tasting menu with our name on it! We had a delicious and interesting meal with all sorts of impressive flavours and pretty presentations. Then, more than replete, we consulted Google Maps re our next destination. I'd planned a taxi but it was still early and my phone told me that a half hour stroll along Mercer Street would take us straight to our destination - the Harvard Exit Cinema for our final SIFF film. And so we set off. A few steps into our journey, we arrived at Mercer Street and started to laugh. Of all Seattle's impressively huge and steep hills, we had never yet encountered one like this. Stretching almost vertically into the sky, it looked like the sort of mountain you'd usually approach with ropes and crampons. Armed only with our little patent shoes (Roz's with a significant heel), we mounted the mountain. On and on we trekked, and every time we thought we were nearing the top, it turned out to be a momentary flat bit before an even steeper section. For the entire journey. By the time we popped out at Joe's for a sneaky pre-cinema glass of wine, we literally felt that we'd gone for a significant hike. But we'd probably worked off some of the courses of that tasting menu! 

The final film, Two Weddings and a Funeral, was a Korean gay sort-of-comedy and was interesting and obscure and quite good. It seemed a fitting end to our Seattle International Film Festival experience. We strolled home sadly, rather wishing it wasn't time for us to leave Seattle. At the start of our holiday we'd wanted to live there. The incessant rain that stops you doing most of the cool outdoor activities the city and environs has to offer (not to mention those terrifying hills and depressingly massive homeless population) has perhaps tempered our enthusiasm but we still loved the city, its coffee shops, its restaurants, its quirkiness, its local pride, its festivals, its scenery, its bike trails, its public transport, and its many variations on the egg and avocado dish. I hope we get to return soon. But now: on to New York!

In which Roz and Layla go underground, cycle and make a comedy organizer very happy

By Roz

After breakfast we headed - in the pouring rain - to the Elliot Bay bookstore.  It seems to be something of an institution in Seattle and was a fab place to browse for an hour or so, whilst I tried to persuade Layla to buy (and then carry) numerous books, mainly to little avail. Eventually we decided to head out and walk down to take an underground tour of Seattle. Though not generally a tour enthusiast, this one had been recommended by a couple of people and, we reasoned, it can't rain underground... We arrived slightly late, very damp and a bit flustered. And so I sent Layla in search of food (what could be better timing?!) whilst I nabbed us seats for the first part of the tour - a quick description of how and why Seattle had an underground. I subsequently regretted this, as time passed and I became anxious that she wouldn't be able to get in and I would end up doing the tour alone whilst she ate the food (I suspect that I shouldn't admit which aspect of this I found most worrying!). Still all was well, and I enjoyed my sandwich when Layla finally arrived. We were then divided into groups and Layla and I found ourselves with one of the perkiest human beings I have ever met: our tour guide. She had at least ten different synonyms for "awesome" which was just as well given how frequently this word needed to be deployed on the tour (a particular favourite was 'swanky'). Notwithstanding (or because of?) this, we enjoyed the tour immensely. It was fun to see how the city had been raised by 15-20 feet to reduce the recurrent flooding due to tides (though we couldn't help wondering why the city planners felt the need to preserve the mountain-like hills when they were doing this) and to wander along what had once been the sidewalk of the main street, and into what was originally the storefront of the bank and so forth - all now 15-20 feet under the current pavement. The tour guide did a nice job on the history of Seattle and all in all it was a very pleasant way to spend a couple of hours. 

We emerged from Seattle's underground (which had not been entirely free from damp) to find it was still raining. Disappointing. And so we headed through the international district (definitely less salubrious than it sounds!) to the Panama Hotel. The hotel became a local landmark a few years ago when the owner discovered in the basement the belongings of a number of Japanese families who'd lived in the area when Pearl Harbor was bombed. They had stored all their possessions there before being interned for the remaining duration of the war - and had never returned to get them.  Layla and I had read two books set in Seattle in preparation for our holiday - Where'd You Go, Bernadette? and The Hotel at the Corner of Bitter and Sweet. In fact, Layla read Bernadette on the plane, and devoured The Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet in Arabica coffee only the previous day, as I speeded her along - because the eponymous hotel was just around the corner and I wanted her to be as keen as I was to visit. When I saw tears dripping down her cheeks, I knew it was time. The hotel still had a Japanese tearoom, where the characters drank tea in the book, and part of the teahouse has a glass floor, though which you can still see some of the unclaimed suitcases and furniture belonging to these evacuated Japanese families. Sad but interesting, and a funny experience to feel like we were almost in the book we'd both loved and wept over. Over a very large pot of peppermint tea and a slice of squash cake, we played Spanish scrabble in English. This is harder than it sounds (though Spanish scrabble in Spanish would be even harder for us!) since the balance of letters is wrong (I found it very disappointing to find myself with two of the letter "j" at one time - and they didn't even come with as many points as they do in the English scrabble). But fun. Layla won (annoying) so I made her hold the umbrella over me whilst we waited for a bus home.

We got changed and then headed out for an early evening film in a torrential downpour that rendered our trip home to change into drier clothes a tad pointless. For once, it wasn't a gay film (Seattle's International Film Festival seems to have a disproportionate number of gay films especially given that it has a gay film festival later on in the year - pleasing but curious) but instead was called A Lady in Paris. It was a relatively good film about an older Estonian lady who moves to - guess where?! - Paris and how she makes a life for herself. This was probably one of the better films we saw at the festival and we took ourselves from there to a nice Spanish restaurant called Tango, where we ate tapas very happily. We then headed back to the cocktail bar which we had been to on our first evening - Sun Liquor - for a gin cocktail or two. We walked home, bemoaning the lack of lovely cocktail bars near our flat in DC...or in Camberwell, now I come to think of it!

The next morning we both slept late, our bodies finally willing to concede we were in a different time zone and on holiday. Since it wasn't raining when we woke, and the forecast wasn't too bad, we decided to leap up and head to a place called Ballard where we'd heard we could hire bikes and go for a nice cycle. Our enthusiasm to get on with the day meant that we missed breakfast (to our consternation) and so by the time we were in Ballard we were more than eager for an early lunch. After a couple of false starts (the yelp reviews we had read on the bus had failed to mention an excess of neon in one establishment) we ended up in an organic cafe eating lentil soup and a sandwich, both of which were perfectly nice if not immensely exciting. We then headed to the bike rental place, kept our fingers crossed that the weather would stay acceptable, and hired two very pretty and good bikes and headed off onto a bike path, which quickly found Lake Union and then provided us with a lovely cycle along the water to begin with and then through a gas works park (nicer than it sounds!) and then through the countryside and then through the university. We spent much of the ride debating which story Layla should tell at a storytelling competition that she's competing in soon and having come to a satisfactory conclusion I felt pleased with myself (and Layla felt relieved the decision had been made). The weather stayed nice - and it even became sunny - so we went further than we intended (8 or so miles) before deciding to turn off the path to go down to the water. This was fun, even if we didn't enjoy climbing the hill back to the bike trail after. We then headed back to Ballard, delighting in the reasonable weather and the flat route. Having deposited our bikes back, it began to rain. We waited for a bus in a cafe attached to a gaming shop (Dungeons and Dragons kind of games) which was somewhat mad but quite fun and then hopped on to the bus to see a place called Fremont. For those of you not in the know, Fremont is the self-declared capital of the universe. In other words, it is a tad mad but quite jolly. We saw grass sculptures of dinosaurs, a 10ft iron sculpture of Lenin, a troll and other delights on a walking tour that Layla found in a guide book. 

We then hopped on another bus (Seattle has really good public transport!) and headed back into Seattle for an early evening dinner at a place called Lola's that had Mediterranean food (we had a lot of halloumi). We then headed over to a place called Rendezvous where I'd heard that there was promising-sounding comedy ("women focussed but not women exclusive"). When we went to buy our tickets, the ticket-seller (who turned out to be the organiser) asked us who we were here to support. Somewhat perplexed, we said that we were just visiting Seattle and had heard that there was comedy. The ticket-seller / organiser looked up at us with pure joy in her eyes and told us that we were the first people who'd come just for the sake of the comedy (and not to support a friend). She asked how we'd heard about the evening and I subsequently heard her telling two different sets of people, with some awe, that there were people there tonight who'd found out about it through googling "Seattle comedy". Resisting the urge to run, we settled down with a beer and a lot of curiosity about how bad the comedy would turn out to be. When the ticket seller came on stage to introduce the host, she referenced "the audience members who are here because they found us on the Internet" and this did nothing to dissipate our fear. But in fact, it turned out to be quite a good evening of stand-up - variable quality of performer, but that is almost always the case wherever you go, and each comedian was only on for two minutes. It was nice (or do I mean odd?!) to be hugged warmly by the ticket-seller / organizer when we finally left. It was certainly nice to know our presence had made someone's night. And so - when we found it was raining when we got outside - we treated ourselves to a cab home.