Opening a bank account proved a little trickier, on account of lacking an address, government-recognised ID, or any money. I was then barred from getting a mobile by an inability to pay the monthly tariff, but my social insurance number should lead to a credit card, a credit card to a new mobile, and a new mobile to happiness.
Pete and I then dropped in on Hannah in her new building. Chevron has taken over an entire floor from a gold prospecting company that failed to hit the motherlode; there are four of them in an office for 30. Everyone got to choose where they wanted to sit, so Hannah humbly opted for a massive corner suite. We might just live in it and forgo having to rent an apartment.
In-between all this I managed to sample a couple of cappuccinos. The first was at Revolver, an unspeakably hip, tiny place where they offer you "flights" of coffee to taste. We ended up sharing the only free table with Aussie backpacker Kuya. And could she chat. The second came from Lost + Found, no less au courant with an ongoing slideshow of cityscapes projected on the wall. Nice as they both were, in a shootout with Blue Bottle, Revolver would be left lying in the dust, and Lost + Found did not cause me to mislay by love for SF's best. More caffeine tomorrow (as if I need it!)
One day, son, all this will be fracked.
The view is probably a lot more impressive when there is one.
Revolver coffee. Did not hit the mark.
This is Kuya. She's an Aussie backpacker, obvs.
Next: Lost + Found.
"I don't care about the chichi hipster surroundings," murmurs Pete. "Just show me a decent cup of joe."
The best coffee I've found so far: dense, dark, expensive, a little oily...
