Most of the time when we left the hotel in the morning we turned right and headed up to Market Street but today it was time for a change
Most mornings, we’d turn right out of the hotel and head up to Market Street. But today called for a change of scenery — so we turned left, and wandered into the quiet calm of Yerba Buena Gardens.
City Park Waterfall
This area nearly vanished under redevelopment back in the 1980s. But then-Mayor George Moscone was firmly opposed, campaigning to preserve it as public green space. Tragically, in November 1978, both Moscone and Harvey Milk were murdered in their City Hall offices by Dan White — a political fallout tied to their support for civil rights legislation. Years later, Yerba Buena Gardens was built in honour of that movement, and it remains one of San Francisco’s quieter achievements.
 |
| MLK Jr. Memorial Waterfall |
What they created was nothing short of clever: the Moscone Centre mostly built underground, topped with a sprawling park and a forty-foot-long waterfall cascading twenty feet down. Even with the overcast skies, it was a peaceful place to stroll — a break from traffic, sirens and the city’s usual rhythm.
We spent some time sitting by the top pool, watching the water rush to the edge. Not a scrap of litter in sight, and all the homeless who sleep here at night had moved on for the day. Just green lawns, soft echoes and a quiet moment.
 |
| Above The waterfall |
Apparently, beneath where we sat was a full-sized ice rink — though you’d never guess it from above. Before heading back, we crossed the gardens to admire the restored carousel from the early 1900s. A lovely bit of vintage tucked amongst the modern. Then we took the lift down from the park to street level and walked back to 5th Street to catch the number 30 bus down to the Caltrain station.
Big Trains, Tiny Platforms
 |
| Caltrain Station |
We don’t usually head down this way, but today curiosity got the better of me — I fancied a look at the trains in the Caltrain station as we passed. Up close, they’re impressively massive, especially when you're standing just a few feet away. You can't access the platform until the train’s ready to board, but you can walk alongside the fence that runs parallel to the road and take a few photos through the gaps.
I liked the colours they’re painted in — bold and distinctive. But what struck me most was the platform situation… or lack of it, really. Unlike back home, there’s no proper raised platform. Just a slightly elevated bit of pavement, which means climbing steps to board. That said, they’re double-decker trains, so the floor isn’t quite as high up as you’d expect. If you need help getting on, there’s a mobile lift that looks like a pallet truck — it rolls up to the doors and raises wheelchairs into the carriage. Simple, clever, and no fuss.
 |
| Low Platforms Are Standard In US |
I was tempted to wait and watch one depart, but it was going to be a while — so I headed for the shop on the station concourse and grabbed a coffee. Three dollars well spent, especially with a chance to sit and soak up the hum of the place.
There’s a Safeway supermarket just across the road, and it’s definitely tempting for next time — loads more choice and much better prices. The only drawback is the bus loop through this part of town; it’s one-way, so when you get off, you’ve got to walk back a couple of blocks to retrace your steps. Still, might be worth it for a proper stock-up.
Empty Seats & Pelicans
 |
| Main Entrance To AT & T Park |
After grabbing a few bits we needed, we headed across the road to AT&T Park — home of the San Francisco Giants baseball team. Even though the season had wrapped up a while ago, it still felt worth a wander. You can almost feel the energy that must buzz through this place on game days, when thirty thousand fans fill every corner. Hard to imagine when it’s so quiet.
From the outside, the stadium doesn’t look all that massive — but through the gates near the base, you get a glimpse of the sheer scale inside. It opens up like a cavern, and I bet once you're in there, it feels twice as large. The area around the park looked freshly done up — new paving, tidy benches — and they've done a fine job of it. This spot also marks the beginning of the Embarcadero, the waterfront stretch that runs for about five miles down to Fisherman’s Wharf.
 |
| Not My Finiest Photo Of A pelican |
We took a walk out on the short pier that juts into the Bay, and spotted a pair of pelicans perched out on the breakwater — always a nice surprise, especially after our earlier crossing on the bridge. Today wasn’t particularly warm, which suited us just fine given the miles we were clocking, and it was genuinely peaceful strolling along the edge of the water and beneath the Bay Bridge.
 |
| Chilling At AT & T |
We made it as far as Rincon Park, where Cupid’s Span towers above the grass. It’s a giant bow and arrow sculpture, probably about fifty feet tall, donated to the city by some famous artist. It’s got that unmistakable modern art feel — unexpected and bold, right in the middle of a public park — and somehow fits perfectly alongside the backdrop of the bridge and city skyline.
Trams, Turkey Pie and Telly
 |
| Cupids Span & The Ferry Building |
From there, we sat for a while and just soaked up the atmosphere — the kind of moment you don’t rush. The Muni trams glided past and disappeared into the tunnel that runs beneath the city, slipping down into the concrete like something out of a film. It’s always fascinating watching how calm everything looks at surface level while a whole world rumbles underneath.
Eventually, we wandered into the Ferry Building Marketplace to grab something to eat. That meant one thing: turkey pie again. It’s become a bit of a favourite — warm, hearty, and reliably good. A proper sit-down meal without the sit-down.
 |
| Before The Tram Goes Undergrond At The End Of Market Street |
By this point, we’d done our fair share of walking, and the day was starting to stretch. So we crossed over to catch the bus back along Market Street, with a quick detour into Walgreens to stock up on drinks for the room. Never hurts to be prepared for a quiet evening.
Back at the hotel, it was a relief to sink into the bed, turn on the telly and let the city hum quietly outside while we stopped moving for a bit. A good wander, a solid pie, and the kind of pause you earn one footstep at a time.
Tuesday Reflections: Pelicans, Platforms & Pie
After days of heading right towards Market Street and the city’s usual pulse, Tuesday began with a simple act of rebellion: we turned left. And in doing so, we stepped into a different San Francisco — one of quiet gardens, hidden history, and the kind of peace that doesn’t shout for attention.
Yerba Buena Gardens was our first stop, a space that almost didn’t exist. Saved from redevelopment by Mayor George Moscone — whose legacy is forever tied to the city’s civil rights movement and tragic loss — the gardens now sit atop the Moscone Centre like a green exhale. We sat by the waterfall, watching it tumble twenty feet into a pool so clean it felt curated. No litter, no noise, just the soft hush of water and the occasional pigeon with opinions.
Beneath part of the park, apparently, was an ice rink. Above us, a restored carousel from the early 1900s. It was a place where past and present coexisted quietly, like old friends who no longer needed to fill the silence.
Curiosity then pulled us south, down to the Caltrain station. The trains were beasts — double-deckers in bold colours, looming over platforms that barely qualified as such. No raised edges, just a bit of pavement and a clever mobile lift for wheelchairs. Simple, effective, and refreshingly no-nonsense. I lingered with a coffee, watching the station breathe.
Across the road, AT&T Park stood quiet in the off-season, its gates hinting at the roar of thirty thousand fans now replaced by pigeons and pelicans. We wandered the pier nearby and spotted two of the latter perched on the breakwater — a feathered encore to Sunday’s bridge-crossing sighting. The Bay Bridge loomed above, and the Embarcadero stretched ahead like a promise.
We followed it to Rincon Park, where Cupid’s Span — a giant bow and arrow sculpture — stood like a modern myth, bold and oddly fitting against the skyline. It was the kind of art that makes you smile, even if you’re not sure why.
Eventually, we drifted into the Ferry Building Marketplace for a now-familiar comfort: turkey pie. Warm, rich, and eaten on the go — the culinary equivalent of a hug. Then it was back to the bus, a quick Walgreens stop, and finally the hotel.
Back in our room, the city hummed outside while we sank into pillows and telly. It wasn’t a day of grand gestures or ticking off major sights. It was a day of left turns, quiet corners, and pelicans on piers. A day that reminded us that sometimes, the best discoveries come when you stray from the usual path — and that a good pie and a soft bed can feel like the perfect reward.
