It’s impossible to get tea in San Francisco. Loads of places have Teas. You can get Green, Red, Purple and White Teas. You can get Oolong, Jasmin and Tibetan Teas. You can get sublime mint Teas picked by the delicate hands of Japanese virgins by the light of the summer moon. But ask for just tea and you get a strange look and a plethora of options. “No I just want normal tea. Breakfast tea. Please.” Nope. Not an option.

Take the place we had breakfast in this morning for example. “No sir, we don’t have breakfast tea, but I can recommend the purple stewed tea as the closest option.” Ok, I say, two please. Out arrive two wooden boards with large glass mugs filled with loose leaf tea and water, and an extra insulated glass jug of hot water. We’re sitting at our table trying to figure out how exactly we drink the tea without getting a mouth full of tea leaves – and then I notice the guy behind the counter making coffee. He has two glass conical flasks on two digital laboratory scales. On top of each flask is a glass funnel with funnel paper and a thermometer. He’s pouring hot water into the funnels from a small metal kettle, and stirring the coffee granules around with a glass rod. I’ve seen places that take their coffee seriously, but this is insane.

The tea was good, but Marie got some scornful looks from other customers when she added sugar and milk to hers. I’d love to go back today and try one of the Heston Blumenthal coffees, but I’m not sure they’d let us back in.

Welcome to San Francisco. Foodie heaven. The place feels very similar to Sydney in a lot of ways, but SF has many oddities. The public transport network is extensive and varying. You can get regular buses, electric buses powered by overhead wires, cable cars, trams, free bicycles and bicycle taxis. The city takes green to the extreme. Not only does most of the bus network produce no emissions, but the bus stops themselves have clear plastic wave-shaped roofs which generate enough electricity to light the shelters at night and power the “next bus” digital signs. They also channel all excess power produced back into the electricity grid.

This is the only city I’ve been to which deems it necessary to place advertising for city services that everybody must use anyway. The buses are covered in adverts for San Francisco’s sewage system, bizarrely written in the first person with slogans such as “No one deals with more crap than I do” and “Your number 2 is my number 1.”

Today is the last day. We’ve done all the usual touristy stuff – visited Alcatraz, had lobster from a cardboard tray at Fisherman’s Wharf, eaten the city signature clam chowder in a sourdough bread bowl, sampled many local ales, checked out Golden Gate Park and the de Young museum, downed rye whiskies while talking to beardy barmen and watched 500 sea lions basking in the sun and pushing each other off jetties at the tourist trap that is Pier 39. We’ve eaten whole roast hog, the best burgers and the best hot dogs in SF, explored all eight of the inner city neighbourhoods and run across the Golden Gate Bridge. No one could accuse us of being lazy.

Today’s all about winding down. We have a meal booked at an impressive sounding restaurant and we fly out Hawaii-bound in the morning. It’s good to be travelling again.