Eastbound Day 1 – 77 miles – San Francisco to Danville

Saturday, 26 March 1994

I’m convinced that trips never go to plan (nor should they) and this one didn’t: Maureen’s flight from Australia turned up four hours late. It was just as well we planned a very short trip on the first day, 40 miles east from San Francisco to stay with a friend in Danville.

I’ve stayed in Danville a few times and I’ve always believed this could have been the prototype for Spielberg’s vision of Californian-suburban-utopia. Every house with 2.3 smiling children, 3.2 cars in the driveway, each with an average age of 1.8 years, and lawn sprinklers all coming on precisely at 7.15 am for precisely 45 minutes. A restaurant in Danville, or nearby Dublin anyway, also holds the still unchallenged record for the worst cup of cappuccino I’ve ever had. Closely edging out several spirited challenges from restaurants and coffee bars in Tel Aviv.

This time we ate Szechuan (Uncle Yu’s) and it was very good. Then we went back to our friend’s house, sat around talking and drinking far too much and went to bed late enough to ensure a very late start next day.