continuing SF adventure! but no pictures this time

So there I was in the Nob Hill district, home to many tall, ornate town houses in every candy color imaginable, bobbing up-and-down streetshills straight out of a Dr. Seuss story, and I had been told, the post office and consulate I needed to visit to complete my mission. I was confident I could find the Spanish consulate, but it was the post office that posed a problem, since I could not seem to reconcile the directions I had looked up that morning on the hostel’s office computer with the tourist map I had also snagged from there. I had apparently copied them down wrong as it looked like I’d just be going in circles – as far as I could tell there was no other reason ight turns in a row.
I although I didn’t have the address of the post office, I did know which street it was on, so I cut ties with my pre-planned route and turned left. If the post office didn’t show up within a few blocks, I could just turn around. In the meantime, I asked some people walking around the neighborhood where I could find my destination.
They were not helpful.
“I’m not sure, we don’t actually live here, but I think I saw one somewhere around here.”
“You know, I don’t know this area really at all.”
“Hmm, there used to be one around here somewhere, but I think they moved it.”
None of this inspired much confidence in me. After about three hills and twice as many blocks, I decided to turn around and once I retraced my steps back to where I turned left instead of right I began asking for directions again.
The first place I stopped was a coffee shop where the cool kids in green aprons directed me a few blocks up a different street than I had been traveling on, but assured me “it’s right there!”
It wasn’t. What was there was a UPS store. An honest mistake, sure, but the UPS store does not sell anything resembling the special envelope I needed. The man behind the counter had crooked teeth and was chatting quite intelligently about politics with the elderly lady buying balloon stationary when I walked in, begging for directions to the USPS (note the first S).
Then, once this info had been relayed to me, I walked another four blocks back to the coffee shop, turned and walked one more block. And there was the Post Office. And I learned never to trust someone in a Starbucks apron for directions.