This is where it ended. By "it" I mean an eight hour frenzy of eating, running up hills, eating, catching trains, eating, walking blocks and blocks, drinking wine, watching people, and eating.

Here, by the way, is the Bi-Rite Creamery, on 18th Street in San Francisco. Hand made, creatively flavored ice cream that may rank up there with the Collins Creamery, in Enfield, CT and Herrell's in Northampton, MA. I don't know, this was my first time there. I need at least a few more before I decide if it truly matches those two New England ice cream giants.

Regardless, it was a lovely way to end a lovely day in "the City", as San Francisco is commonly referred to. That day had begun much earlier, with a mad dash for the best Chinese barbecued pork buns in any city, from Good Mong Kok Bakery.

I am kicking myself for not getting any pictures of the buns - we were rushing to get Marissa to a hair appointment but had to have something to eat and she remembered exactly where this place is but we took the route with the most hills and had to eat and run because she was running late and, well, sorry. You will have to trust me that they are some of the best baozi this gwai lo has ever tasted.

 Once the hair was done and I was unsuccessful at finding a new pair of shoes for travel - sounds odd, I know, as aren't all shoes for travelling? But I like to have a pair to use ONLY when I am travelling - we set out for North Beach. North Beach, aside from being birthplace of the Beat Generation and San Francisco's Little Italy, is home to a magic little place commonly referred to by those in the know as "the Condo." While there we had a glass of good New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc and noshed on various treats while socializing with nice people and playing with cute children.

We were just getting revved up. In fact, we were burning daylight and had yet to make it over to the Mission District for the 3rd Annual Street Food Festival. So we sprinted back to the BART station (less hills this time at least) and raced on over for our main event.

Yes, my friend, that woman is making tortillas by hand. She is doing it behind one of the many food trucks parked at the festival. We macked on a couple of chicken tacos, made with those handmade tortillas, and cried silent tears of joy.

Our pleasure was briefly threatened, however. We had gotten to the festival late, and there was only an hour left. We managed to score those lovely tacos as well as some pupusas from a different truck, but many of the other vendors had either run out of food or were beginning to close down. I really wanted to try CurryUpNow, as an Indian friend from work had recommended it, but they closed their window just as we arrived. This time it was silent tears of regret and even a little bitterness.

Not to worry, La Taqueria, one of the best taquerias in the Bay Area (hey, it is called La Taqueria) was very close by. So, two more tacos (lengua and carnitas and very, very tasty), a veggie burrito and a large Tamarindo later, we were well past sated. We were chock-full.

Nothing is better after a large meal than a small glass of bourbon. When that remedy is not available, a nice long walk is a damn good substitute. So walk we did, over to 18th and the Bi-Rite. Just far enough to feel slightly less full so we could eat our dessert.

The lesson today? Variety is good. Food trucks are a beautiful invention. Getting out of your own neighborhood and trying something new is always rewarding. But most importantly, there is always room for ice cream.