Feeding My Passion

It’s difficult to hate LA, at least it has been for me lately. It was not always so.

I grew up coming here with some frequency for a couple reasons, mainly because I had family in Van Nuys and La Habra. The other reason was, of course, Disneyland. All good Christian families would travel through the most depraved place on earth to reach the Magic Kingdom[TM]. Which, of course, is what LA is, or at least represents for much of the world and even the US. Even northern Californians. Maybe especially us, or them, whatever. I don’t think the Mason-Dixon line is in any danger of losing its status for top geographical rivalry in the US, but northern Cali definitely isn’t a big fan of southern Cali. I think the funniest thing about this is that the south is generally oblivious to this rivalry, which means it’s not much of a rivalry, kind of like shadow-boxing really.

Anyway, it’s tough for me to hate LA. First, Kamila is here, so I can’t possibly be grumpy about spending time here with her, wherever we may be, even here. And then I’ve just come from Korea, which just barely made it above freezing the entire month before I flew here. By contrast, the weather in LA is quite fantastic: warm (in the 70s), sunny, and light breezes. Hard to hate that.

The food, for me, is another reason to soak up as much LA as possible. The diversity of cuisine and its general tastiness are all positives. Little Ethiopia has 8 Ethiopian restaurants in a single block! (It’s a micro-neighborhood though, not much more than a block long.) The diversity of the people, in all their creative wildness, is fun and energetic to be around. Hand-in-hand with the diversity and wacky energy of the Los Angelenos, plus the food, is the number of distinct neighborhoods: K(orea)-Town, Little Tokyo, West Hollywood’s Eastern European/Jewish community, Little Saigon, Chinatown, Thai Town (the only one in the world), multiple Mexican areas (including one with a Mariachi Plaza where  you can pick up a band for a party, just bring a van to carry them and the guitars!), and so on and so on. I could grow old trying to list all the distinct ethnic neighborhoods in LA, so I’ll just have others do the heavy lifting. I haven’t spent time exploring NY City, but I’m sure it’s the same way, but without LA’s really nice weather. That goes double for Chicago. Maybe triple.

Venice Beach is a the flagship for crazy and diverse (and medical marijuana), its houses, especially along the canals (from whence it got its name), are gems of residential architecture. In fact, many area in LA have really interesting and beautiful homes. I’ve been gawking at the many, many beautiful and interesting houses in Hollywood Hills and West Hollywood where I’ve been hanging out the last couple weeks.

With all this talk about interesting food from around the world and beautiful homes (which doesn’t mean huge homes, but this is a very expensive real estate market), this isn’t exactly a post about social justice or income equality. The post is a counter-balance to the northern California prejudice that its southern brethren are without culture. I won’t say that LA is a bastion of culture like New York, Paris, Rome, London, wherever. Actually I will say it, it really is.

There, now I’ve gone and completely betrayed my heritage. Happy now? Of course I am, I’m in sunny LA!

I’m back in California’s arms for a few weeks, in Los Angeles, and in her arms again, literally. I’ve been in her arms figuratively since we first kissed (on February 18th, 2010 outside the Yosemite Bug cafe), but being physically apart for 9 months has been difficult for both of us.

So I grabbed the opportunity between contracts to see Kamila. Like the song goes, it’s so nice, it’s paradise, to come home, especially when you have someone to come home to.