From April 2001 on my Minolta X-370. My best friend and our two little brothers backpacked around San Francisco for 4 days (stayed in a different place every night, so we schlepped our bags everywhere).
Instead of taking a change of clothes for each day, I brought my manual camera. It was carefully wrapped in an orange and yellow sun print beach towel that was frayed on the edges that I never ended up needing (I only took showers when we were provided with towels).
I spent the entire trip sick from something unknown (stress?). I ate some food the first day; I spent the first night puking. After that, I subsisted on sprite until our last day, where I managed to get down a latke at a Jewish deli. Oh, and I ate a piroshky (ahh, lovely Russian food).
San Francisco remains one of my favorite cities, even though I've only been there once. I'd like to return, but I'm afraid that no trip will rival the crazy-busy-funness of wandering around the city with the marvelous group of people I traveled with. We did the touristy thing the first day (wharf, embarcadero, etc), then spent the next three days doing some more decidedly odd things. We hit up the exploratorium (SF science museum), we got soaked in an SF downpour (of course, wearing synthetic pants that trailed to the ground, I was sopping wet up to my waist), and learned about the intracacies of the SF bus system. We went to a punk show at 924 Gilman, a garage in the suburbs of Berkeley where Greenday got it's start. We practiced archery at a range in Golden Gate Park. When my older brother was with us, we only ate at local ethnic restaurants (of course, other times, we ate at Carl Jr's, but it wasn't my choice since I couldn't really eat anyway).