And so the road trip documentation begins. Despite having landed on the west coast around 1:00 AM, we woke up with the sun the next morning in order to squeeze in as much as we could into our first day in San Francisco. I shook poor Jeremy up from his peaceful slumber so we could hike two hills before breakfast. Luckily for him, I overachieved in my planning (which is a common thread during this trip, you will notice) and we only spent time on one of the two, Bernal Heights, spending more time just soaking it all in.
But what was meant to be a 30-minute walk to Bernal Heights turned out to be an hour long walk. Why? Because I wanted to take a photo of every single damn garage door. But come on, who knew garage doors could be cute AF? After about 50 garage doors, I realized I was being a drag and that these photos would end up on my hard drive somewhere, never to be seen again. So I got some chill and put my camera away, which was good because...
...YAS, BERNAL HEIGHTS. That hill is one of the dopest hills I've ever had the honor of tramping my feet all over.
H&M Black Ribbed Turtleneck, Madewell Flea Market Flare Jeans (similar), Steve Madden Combat Boots (similar), Madewell Stone Verse Bolo Necklace (similar), A.J. Morgan Sunglasses (similar)
I would tramp all over this hill again and again and again and a-motherfucking-gain. There were dogs around every single bend and, let me tell you, I've never seen dogs so happy before. The sun was shining, their tails were wagging, and they were roaming lease-free across the grassy knolls. The sight was enough to make a grown woman cry. And cry I did. Like a baby.
Can I turn into a dog and spend the rest of my life on the top of Bernal Heights?