Crocker Galleria & Well Fargo History Museum

We woke up feeling worlds better—and absolutely ravenous—so a proper breakfast was non-negotiable.

The morning was overcast (though still pleasantly warm), and since it promised to be a short day, Jane set off to our favourite fast-food hideout: Carl’s Jr., just across from Hallidie Plaza.

A hearty Breakfast

Discovered by happy accident back in 2013, Carl’s Jr. has become our go-to alternative to the usual suspects. This time we finally tried their much-hyped breakfast cheese grills—essentially posh cheese on toast with your choice of filling. At around $6–7 each, they felt like utter bargains. We went for sausage and egg, and every mouthful was pure morning bliss.

With bellies full of gooey goodness, we were officially ready to face whatever the day had in store.

Roof Garden

Crocker Galleria

Like most days, we strolled to the end of the road and hopped on the first downtown bus we saw. We were only going a few stops to Crocker Galleria—a swanky food-only mall—but our real goal was the rooftop garden perched above Market Street.

This might just be the best spot in town to eat your lunch. You grab a bench, gaze down at the endless stream of buses and cable cars, and soak in the hum of the financial district. It was predictably hectic—lunchtime in a trendy zone always is—but in the best possible way.

The Roof Garden

After twenty minutes of blissful bird’s-eye people-watching, we slipped out through a side door to a tiny coffee shop. The coffee was superb and surprisingly cheap, but the tea came in these nylon-like sachets that never let the flavour escape. Needless to say, we stuck to coffee and hot chocolate thereafter.

We found a bench by the kerb, but the surrounding skyscrapers cast us into constant shade. Since it wasn’t quite warm enough for lingering, we headed on our way—just a couple of blocks down the road—to the next adventure: a museum waiting to be discovered.

A Nugget of Information

Restored Stagecoach, Wells Fargo Musuem

The Wells Fargo Museum is tucked into the lobby and first floor of the bank’s San Francisco offices — a hidden gem that most tourists breeze right past. It’s a shame, really. Wells Fargo is the oldest bank on the West Coast and played a pivotal role in managing transactions during the Gold Rush era, yet its story seems largely forgotten by the wandering masses.

Inside, they’ve preserved a remarkable collection of artefacts — weighing scales, authentic gold nuggets, and even a fully restored stagecoach once used to ferry money across dusty trails. It’s compact, so you won’t be spending hours here, but it’s absolutely worth a stop — an hour of quiet wonder in the heart of the financial district.

Unfortunately, just days after our visit, the museum found itself at the centre of a real-life heist. In the early hours, an armed gang crashed a car through the front doors, took the security guard hostage, and smashed open the display cases housing the gold. Their loot? Surprisingly modest. The damage to the building far outweighed the value of what they stole.

Thankfully, no one was hurt — the most important thing, really — and the museum reopened about four weeks later. The thieves were never caught, fading into the night like characters from the very history they tried to steal. It was strange to think that a place showcasing century-old security measures had just been breached in the most cinematic fashion imaginable.

More Nuggets

By around four o’clock, hunger had officially returned, so we ambled back along Market Street and ducked into McDonald’s for nuggets — this time the chicken kind, not the historical variety. They were doing a deal: twenty nuggets for five dollars. Who could say no? And they were cracking good, too.

Something you notice quickly here: McDonald’s in the US gives far more bang for your buck than back home. Most branches hand you a cup and let you fill it up yourself — free refills included, it seems. Not quite gourmet, but after days of feeling peaky, it hit the spot.

With stomachs sorted, we wandered down Market Street, peeking into a few shops along the way. Nothing serious — just a bit of browsing to stretch the legs and ease back into being upright humans. We’d kept it light on purpose while still recovering.

5th & Market, Start & End Of The Day

Eventually we reached 5th and Market, where the now comforting ritual continued: a stop at Walgreens to stock up on snacks and evening supplies. Feeling much stronger, I sent Jane on ahead to the hotel while I ventured further — round the corner to the off-licence (or liquor store, as they call it here) for a couple of tins of beer. I ended up only drinking one, mind. Jet lag and recovery don’t make for a high tolerance.

By now it was around 6 p.m.’ — or 4 a.m. in the UK. I didn’t mind the time difference, though. It gave me the perfect window to scroll through what people had posted online and use the hotel’s free Wi-Fi to upload my own photos from the day.

While everyone at home was just starting to browse, I was already tucked into our massive comfy bed, listening to the occasional fire truck zip past outside. It’s become part of the soundscape now — city lullabies in siren form.

Tomorrow? Let’s just say things were finally picking up pace.

Refections on the Day: Gold, Grills, and Chicken Thrills

Some days begin with a sunrise. Others begin with cheese. Thursday was firmly in the latter camp. After days of cautious nibbling, we woke ravenous and ready to devour something that didn’t come in a paper cup. Enter Carl’s Jr.—our fast-food soulmate since 2013—where breakfast cheese grills delivered the kind of joy usually reserved for winning raffles or finding forgotten ten-pound notes in your coat pocket. Sausage, egg, and gooey cheese: the holy trinity of recovery cuisine.

Fueled by toast-based triumph, we set off for Crocker Galleria’s rooftop garden—a hidden perch above Market Street where lunch breaks come with panoramic people-watching. From our bench, we surveyed the city like mildly caffeinated monarchs. The coffee was excellent. The tea, however, came in sachets that could double as parachutes. We made a swift diplomatic switch to hot chocolate.

Next stop: the Wells Fargo Museum, a compact treasure trove of Gold Rush history tucked inside a bank lobby. It had everything—gold nuggets, weighing scales, and a stagecoach that looked ready to gallop off into a Western. We wandered through quietly, marveling at the artefacts and wondering why more people didn’t stop in. Days later, the museum would be the scene of a real-life heist—car crash, hostage, smashed display cases. It was like Ocean’s Eleven had been rewritten by someone with a modest budget and poor planning skills. Thankfully, no one was hurt, and the museum reopened with its dignity (mostly) intact.

By late afternoon, hunger struck again, and we answered with McDonald’s nuggets—twenty for five dollars, which felt like winning the culinary lottery. US McDonald’s is a different beast: generous portions, self-serve drinks, and a general vibe of “go on, treat yourself.” We did.

The rest of the day was a gentle glide: browsing shops, stocking up at Walgreens, and a solo beer run that ended with just one tin cracked open. Jet lag and chicken nuggets don’t mix well with alcohol, it turns out.

Back in our room, I uploaded photos while the city sang its siren lullabies outside. Fire trucks, distant chatter, and the hum of a place that never quite sleeps. We were stronger, fuller, and finally upright again. Tomorrow promised more pace—but today gave us nuggets of joy in every form.