Street musicians

Normally, I don't really like them.  It's just one of those bitchy aspects of my personality.  But yesterday I had to make an exception, when my dad and his friend Paolo played their third (I think) annual free holiday concert in the Powell Street BART station.  My dad plays a number of instruments, but in recent years he has narrowed in on the violin and he and Paolo practice together occasionally and have made a kind of tradition out of playing in the BART station during the holidays.  They don't take any money, but people tend to try to give anyway, and sometimes get upset when it is refused.  Funny.  The first year they played they got some heat from other musicians who were playing for money, who were concerned about losing business.  So now they have a sign that advertises "NO MONEY."
Anyway, they played for about an hour and a half yesterday, and I caught the last fifteen minutes or so.  I didn't recognize the song they were playing as I walked up, but the next one was Pachelbel's Canon in D which of course everyone and their mom knows from a million movies.  I'm still quite fond of it because it was one of the songs I played at recital when I was learning the violin, and which I worked very hard to learn.  I think, actually, that I played it at my last recital before I quit the violin.  Shame.

My dad's playing music has always made an impression on me; I have very distinct memories of lazy Sunday mornings where I would be watching TV upstairs and my dad would be in his garage-level music room downstairs playing the piano, something dramatic sounding, like Rachmaninoff.  I don't quite remember why I chose to learn the violin, but I'm sure it had something to do with my dad, although I was always too intimidated to play in front of him.  As it turns out, he is also very self conscious about his violin playing, although you would never know it.  So that's my dad on the left, in traditional holiday garb:
  My stepmom and brothers showed up about ten minutes after I did, and my brother Diego snapped some photos before we headed to dinner:
We ate at La Traviata on Mission between 24th and 25th, which I've never been to before.  To be honest, I never actually noticed it before, despite having gone by it thousands of times on foot or by bus or car.  Weird.  Apparently my dad and stepmom had their wedding rehearsal dinner there, so it's been around for at least 20 years.  It was gooood, although I think I gained a pound or five from that one meal.  It really reminded me of the Italian food I ate while I was in Italy, only it came in larger portions.  YUM.
Here's something funny: after dinner I peeled off from the group to head out to the Sunset to meet Andrew and Ian at a holiday party being thrown by one of their friends.  As I was walking by 24th St. BART, I noticed this jumpy casa:
WTF was it doing there?  There were tamale vendors hanging out next to it as you can see, but it didn't seem like anyone was manning the jumpy casa.  Oh well, maybe the wind blew it there.