Jane seemed to be getting worse today—her cough had taken a turn for the dramatic, and to be honest, I wasn’t feeling too great myself. Perhaps the dreaded lurgy was wriggling its way through my system too. But we’re British, and if there’s one thing we’re known for, it’s soldiering on through mild-to-moderate discomfort with a cup of tea and misplaced optimism.
We didn’t fly 6,000 miles to let a mere cold stop us.
So, we decided to take it easy. Just a short walk to stretch the legs and remind ourselves we were still on holiday, even if our immune systems were staging a quiet rebellion.
Almost Merry Christmas
Or should I say “Happy Holidays”? It’s Christmas Eve, but it doesn’t feel like it. The temperature’s over 20°C, the birds are singing, the bees are buzzing, and we had no plans at all for the day. The main reason? We weren’t sure how reliable transport would be. Turns out, unlike the UK, San Francisco winds down to a Sunday night service—which, to be honest, probably still has more buses running than we do on a weekday. There’s no shortage of drivers here, since they’re well paid for working these hours.
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| All Sorts of Cup Cakes |
Jane wasn’t feeling great, so we kept things simple with a short walk around Union Square. Then we headed up to Cako Bakery, a place I’d heard does the best cupcakes in town—and they weren’t wrong. We only got a couple of chocolate ones to try. At $3.50 each, they’re not cheap, but they’re a local legend. They even came in little plastic holders inside the bag so they wouldn’t get squashed. A small touch, but a thoughtful one.
We saved them for later in the evening, and they were worth the wait—light, fluffy, and probably about a million calories each. A proper festive treat, even if the weather felt more like springtime in Cornwall than Christmas in California.
Last Minute Shoppers, The Lurgy Lurks
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| Looking Down on Union Square |
Jane was starting to feel worse, so she headed back to the hotel to rest. I took the opportunity to walk up to Union Square and snap a few photos. You wouldn’t believe how many people were out doing last-minute Christmas shopping—it was packed to the point where you could barely move. It reminded me of those classic Christmas movies set in New York, with everyone rushing about in a festive frenzy. Only this time, instead of scarves and snowflakes, it was t-shirts and sunshine—one of the warmest Christmas Eves in years.
Union Square had transformed into a bustling holiday village, thanks to the Union Square Holiday Market. With over 150 outdoor vendors selling handmade crafts, art, home accessories, and festive treats, it was a sensory overload of colour, sound, and cinnamon-scented air. The market’s energy was infectious, even if I wasn’t buying anything. Just being there—watching people haggle over ornaments, sip spiced coffee, and pose for selfies under twinkling lights—felt like stepping into a living postcard.
Pyramid & Parks
The queue for the ice rink was massive—not that I was going to risk it at my age. If I break something now, it’ll probably stay broken, and I’m fairly sure travel insurance doesn’t cover acts of stupidity. Things were getting a bit too busy around Union Square, so I cut through the side streets to visit the Transamerica Pyramid.
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| Transamerica Pyramid |
You can see it from almost any high point in the city, but I wanted to stand at the base and look up. At 853 feet tall, it’s the tallest building in San Francisco and easily the most iconic. Built in 1972, its pyramid shape was designed to reduce the shadow it casts on the surrounding streets—a rare case of architectural ambition meeting civic consideration. Sadly, there’s no public observation deck anymore, but standing next to it is impressive enough. It’s like staring up at a giant, futuristic obelisk that somehow feels both out of place and perfectly at home.
Around the back, I found Transamerica Redwood Park—a hidden gem tucked into the Financial District. Despite being private land, it’s open to the public and offers a tranquil escape from the city’s buzz. The park is home to a grove of 50 coastal redwoods, brought over from the Santa Cruz Valley in the 1970s. They stand about 70 feet tall now, casting dappled light across benches, sculptures, and a central fountain. It’s the kind of place you’d never expect to find in the middle of a financial hub—quiet, green, and ideal for sipping a coffee while pretending you’re in a forest.
Being Christmas Eve, the whole area was practically deserted. No suits, no rush—just the sound of wind through redwoods and the occasional pigeon wondering where everyone went.
Murphy’s Bar
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| Bar Fly Time |
It was around 4:30, the light was fading fast, and most of the shops nearby were starting to close. The pub seemed like the best option. Murphy’s Pub, tucked into Kearny Street with its brick walls and dim lighting, had only four other patrons nursing drinks when I walked in. People kept popping their heads in asking if they were still serving food, only to be surprised when told the kitchen was closed—and that the whole place would shut by six. Not exactly the festive buzz you’d expect on Christmas Eve, but I stuck it out with the other diehards until closing.
Murphy’s has that classic Irish pub feel—wood-panelled walls, sports on the TV, and a bartender who looks like he’s seen it all. It’s the kind of place where you could imagine a wedding afterparty one night and a quiet pint the next. No frills, just good beer and a bit of character.
After closing, I walked along Market Street for a while and soaking up the atmosphere. At least I wasn’t hammered this time, so I knew which bus to catch and where to get off. That’s progress.
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| Evening in Union Square |
By seven, most places were shuttered except the Apple Store—which, I’m convinced, never closes. I wandered in again, not to buy anything, just to be somewhere that still felt alive. There’s something surreal about walking through a big city when the shops are closed and the streets are nearly empty.
We’ve never travelled over Christmas before, and it turns out that once the shutters come down, the city empties like someone flipped a switch.
With that, I called it a day and headed back to the hotel to check on Jane. Sadly, the illness had got the better of her today, and things hadn’t improved while I’d been out exploring. So we curled up and watched TV for the rest of the evening—quiet, low-key, and oddly comforting.
Reflections on the Day
It wasn’t the most dramatic day, but it had its own rhythm—wandering through streets that felt both familiar and foreign, dodging ice rinks and crowds, then stumbling into pockets of calm like Redwood Park and Murphy’s Pub. There’s something about travelling alone, even briefly, that sharpens your senses. You notice the way the light hits buildings, the hush of a nearly empty street, the odd comfort of a pub that’s about to close.