Always look on the bright side of life.

We are just back to the cottage after spending the afternoon in Troyes. A picturesque town (aren’t they all?) that claims in all of its tourist hype to be shaped like a Champagne cork. To both Mick and I it had a more phallic silhouette.

It was the birthplace of two popes (maybe that’s why they went with the cork) and in 13.2 square kilometers it has one Cathedral, one Basilica and seven churches. "He's not the messiah. He's a very naughty boy!"

Slim alleys and roads are bordered by wooden framed buildings, three and four storeys high and painted in beautiful sundrenched hues. Très magnifique!

Now that we are in self-catering mode we set out yesterday to create a portable pantry or Movable Feast, if you will. Our local supermarché is Carrefours in a neighbouring town. Carrefour’s is like a blend of a K-mart, Coles and Liquorland all in together. It’s a shame our GPS couldn't help us out inside, we found it far more difficult to navigate in the store than on the local roads.

After we had loaded up a sizeable trolley of essentials, we made our way to the busy registers. We could feel a sense of dread coming on. It’s a certain type of dread reserved for those attempting to communicate with someone in a language that is different from their own. The feeling mounted as we got closer to the cashier, though we were still halfway to the front of the queue.

Just then, a woman sidles up to the line and joins it two spaces in front of us. She just joined the line! With no-one else looking like they had any concerns with this outrageous behaviour I spoke up (in broken French) “excusé moi madame” gesturing to the growing queue behind me. She looked at me in surprise (and a hint of hostility) and spoke quickly in French. I still have no idea what she said, but as my cheeks went red and the other shoppers tuned into listen, she placed her hands on her pregnant belly and gestured to a sign above the register.

Yes folks, I had tried to boot a pregnant woman out of a “priority lane”. My shame and embarrassment scale went through the roof. Merde!

At least she wasn't blind.

Be sure to wear flowers in your hair.

Jet-lag sucks. We accidentally lost half the day today by sleeping through our alarm until 12:30pm.

A frightening aspect (for a sheltered Melbournite) of San Francisco is the number of homeless people and beggars on the streets. Despite our best efforts, we must still look "tourist" and thus get approached on every street corner with a shake of a soda cup. It's saddening to see the plight of so many people in what is considered such a bountiful and prosperous country.

Don't worry, I'll have toughened up by the time we hit India.

We axed our morning plans and headed downtown on the bus. Through the notorious Tenderloin and on to Haight Ashbury (Hashbury). Which is famed as the Californian centre of the Hippy Revolution. We wandered westward down the strip enjoying the old Victorian houses, known as "Painted Ladies". The street seemed less Summer of Love and more "Brunswick St Tourist Trap" to me. Kind of sad. I wonder whether Joplin or the boys of the Grateful Dead would recognise it anymore.

Our main destination was the Magnolia Pub & Brewery, cnr of Haight and Masonic. Located in the original restaurant of Magnolia Thunderpussy (complete with original fixtures!). They brew 10 different beers on site and serve inexpensive gastro-pub grub.

Mick had the Kalifornia Kolsch, a German style white beer, served extra cold. It was crisp and refreshing with light florals and a slight metallic tang. I had a pint of the Proving Ground IPA, it was bold, hoppy with honey flavours and a bitter finish. Mike decided his whistle was not quite wet enough and ordered a post burger cider. The Two River's Granny Smith Hard Cider was not to our taste at all. We couldn't quite identify the flavour we didn't like in it. Something between Morning Fresh washing detergent and Pert 2 in 1 shampoo.

We both had burgers for the meal. I immediately regretted my order, wishing that I had ordered the Tomato Tartine (heirloom tomatoes, genovese basil pesto and smoked ricotta salata) or one of the house sausages (seafood boudin, andouille or pastrami crepinette). The burgers were good but not mind blowing. Food envy is the worst.

I forgot to mention- yesterday we saw Grant Imahara of Mythbusters fame in Union Square. I was keen to run over and befriend him but neither Mick or the traffic lights were working in my favour.

Frank Family Vineyards Zinfandel (Napa Valley) in hotel room plastic cups with Californian peaches for dinner tonight.

xo.