We were working in the backyard pulling off weeds and trimming wild vines on Sunday morning. The Salvadorean asked me if I have my phone with me. With that tone, I knew he didn't have his with him and it is his subtle way of asking me to get it when I get a chance. After seven years with the same person, I think I've figured out how he operates. I didn't have my phone with me so I said no. Rather than wait for the perfect moment for a break, I put the shears down and took my gloves off and went back inside the house to get both phones. Under normal circumstances, I would have finished what I was doing because I hate being distracted. It must have been the weather or the great breakfast. Besides, I was expecting a phone call from an aunt anyway. My aunt, who was in Sacramento that day, wanted to drop by the house before driving back to L.A. I had asked her to call at least 2 hours in advance so I can prepare her a little something-something.

The phone had registered 3 missed calls, a voice mail and a text message but none of them were from my aunt. I was surprised at the same time quite delighted when I learned that one of the calls was from a former highschool classmate M who now lives in Southern California. Just like with most of my friends back in the Philippines, we've been keeping in touch via email. I usually decline on last minute changes in my schedule especially during the weekend but I have not seen her since graduation. I must see her.

They were sight-seeing in the Fisherman’s Wharf area. We had originally agreed to meet around the main square in Ghirardelli Square. It is on the northern end from the Wharf but we ended up meeting in Pier 39 instead - in the heart of Fisherman's Wharf. I couldn't think of a decent place to have brunch there. I had asked the Salvadorean the same question before I left the house but I got the same response. N-a-d-a. The Wharf is all about sourdough bread, clam chowder, dungeness crab, and rice-a-roni. San Francisco eats more than that. I decided I’ll take them to North Beach since I'm more familiar with the Italian quarter and then go from there. The Wharf is the epitome of what a tourist area is like and we locals avoid it as much as we could unless we are showing friends or family around.

I finally met M and her husband. She looked great and her husband seemed friendly. I was going to take them on a cable car ride and treat them to the best panini in town but they were in a hurry so they can beat the traffic going back to Southern California. She said she just wanted to see me while they were in town that's why she called. We chatted for a bit and then took pictures. I sat by Pier 39's main plaza while I wave goodbye at M and her husband. The meeting was all worth it however short it was.

Judging by the swarm of people with cameras and maps, it must be tourist season. I thought I might as well walk around to enjoy the lovely day and get myself reacquianted with one of the places in the city where locals refuse to go to. In the end, I still rejected the idea to play tourist. The Wharf, afterall, is a place where only tourists go and locals don't mind not seeing. :)