River Street was quite short. Walking from one end to the other took about 15 minutes. It was still chilly on the day I arrived; on the day I left the weather warmed up considerably. The sun was so bright it made me blink. "Sittin' on the dock of the bay ..." The song came to my mind.
On the last evening, I walked along the river, tourists rushing by me, warm sugary breeze drifting from two candy stores on River Street. In one of the stores, a toy train was clunking its way above our heads on a winding track hanging from the ceiling. Barrels of candy glistened in the light. The cynic in me suspected the authenticity of all this antiquity, but I couldn't really believe my doubts. The houses were real. The wood floor and creaky stairs were real. The dark, exposed stone walls were real. You can't fake this. On the first floor was Vic's coffeehouse, a bare and shabby place in which elaborate and gigantic wedding candles were displayed on wooden shelves that had long lost their colors. All handmade. You can order your own. Yet up the creaky stairs and across the wooden floor, I walked into a chic and modern restaurant with a sparkling bar --- Vic's restaurant.
I sat down at the bar near the window. To my right was a striking young woman with a milky neck and creamy shoulders, jet-black hair cut boyish short and gelled spiky. She was Lisbeth Salander cool. For half an hour she sat and played on her iPhone, then got up and left. Another art student, I thought. Maybe.
The restaurant was crowded. I could get only a stool at the bar. I ordered sea scallops with crab risotto. Instead of bread I was given two warm buttermilk biscuits, whipped fresh butter, and homemade orange marmalade -- not too sweet and filled with chunks of orange. That, my friend, was comfort food. I almost wept with joy and longing. Outside, night was descending on the river. From the window one could looked down onto the black current and pearls of light from docked boats.
Sittin' on the Dock of the Bay
