Rachmaninow, my Valentine. Or: The pillow fight!

Today is Valentine's day, a day much cared for in the US. I thought mine would turn out rather trivial. But it was not. Somehow, I got the spirit.

Saturday morning: For my usual supplies of Monet's water crackers, oranges and Diet Pepsi, I went to the Asian corner store, the one that sells affordable fruit and vegatables in the massive soundgarden of Classical music . I entered to Rachmaninov, piano concert no.2. That is a very special one to me, and amidst the broccoli and tofu, I got a bit sentimental. But there was also another girl who liked it, and she suddenly started to dance in that little Asian store. A few seconds later, she collided with an approaching woman from her back, and simply said: "Oh, I am so sorry. It is just so impassionate." But she stopped dancing then. Such would scare me in Vienna, but here it fits the spirit and made me happy. Don't ever say you cannot dance to Rachmaninow!

Back home, Mike called: "Hello. This is Mike. We are running a winter special..." - It was a recorded voice, that figured when I wanted to interrupt. At least, one man has called me on Valentine's day! ;-)

Then came part three of Valentine's day: The pillow fight! A crazy tradition in SF, and you do the following: Bring a pillow, travel down to Justin Herman Plaza (Embarcadero), and when the clock of the Ferry Building rings 6pm: Fight! Hit everybody with your pillow! So, of course I went - without a pillow tough, because I did not dare to bring one from my rented apartment (although I have *seven* here). Already in the streetcar, people were boarding with their pillows - to the confuseion of other passengers who, after about three stops, dared to ask what was going on with all the pillows. At the final stop, there were *masses* of people leaving the streetcar and it was truly an amazing picture for the photographer's lense to to see those hords of (mostly young) pepople walking towards the Eastern waterfront, while the sun was setting, carrying their pillow (yes, I took pictures). I was there exactly at 6, and when the hour struck, the fight started. I was amidst the crowd, getting hit, taking pictures, feeling crazily happy on that memorable Valentine's day. Only in America!

P.S.: In the picture, you see actually the feathers flying. I had a lot of them in my hair when I got home and felt the urge to caugh. Maybe I should have worn mouth masks like the two guys in the picture...