One of my favorite things to do is go to Ghirardelli Square for ice cream.
I'm sure most of the locals just blanched at that sentence. The food snobs are horrified that I'd be common enough to let such "plebeian" ice cream pass my lips, and the regular snobs can't see hobnobbing with the tourists.
Before I moved down the street, I would have agreed with you. Smelly sea lions, tee shirt shops, and overstuffed tourists whose matching fleeces advertise their ignorance of San Francisco weather? Blech. I've never had much heart for the Wharf, and though I'm a chocoholic, Ghirardelli's middle-of-the-road milk chocolates don't do it for me.
But then we found an apartment that's so close to the Square that the smell of freshly made ice cream cones practically wakes me up in the morning. Add to that my boyfriend's obsession with ice cream, and we were bound to become regulars.