Day 11: Valencia Street

We have no major commitments (except to each other) so we walked a few blocks down to Valencia Street, as recommended by Laurie.We stopped in this quaint little restaurant called Frjtz [frjtz = brazilian fries] as we were lured in by the crepes. All the menu items were named after famous artists; Danielle got the Picasso, Jaclyn got the Duchamp. Whilst sitting together at our booth awaiting our crepes, we gazed around and were quite absorbed by the aesthetically pleasing interior design, Danielle stating that she would love to work there.

Midway through consumption of a refreshing glass of lemonade, Jaclyn (suffering from an intense case of germophobia) was pleasantly surprised to find a several-inch-long black hair in the bottom of her glass.

She returned it to the cashier who first stated that it must be Jaclyn's hair, then seeing that she in fact has long blonde hair, the cashier quickly denied that it couldn't be his and must be one of the worker's hairs in the back. In any case, he filled up a new glass from the same pitcher and bitterly returned it to Jaclyn.

We will surely be returning next time we are parched.

We then perused around an art gallery showcasing Duchamp-inspired work by local artists.

There are also some cute little shops with letterpressed stationary, books, and other tchotchkes where we spent several of our dollars.

We returned to the apartment to save money by making dinner, and attempted to watch No Country for Old Men the second night in a row, but we fell asleep 26 minutes into it.