It is now over, and I'm back in CT recuperating from jet lag. NEVER fly a redeye coach, for any reason.
The last hellish hours of my journey aside, I admit some pleasurable experiences this weekend: Saturday night at the Figueroa Hotel, by a turquoise lit jacuzzi and pool (no swimsuit, alas) under a bright open sky with cactuses and afrobeat music all around. This is a happy place indeed. (Just a look, above.)
(In the interest of fairness, I stayed at a lovely vintage hotel called the Mayfair on 7th Street. A very nice room and staff. I'm just emphasizing that the Figureoa is something special.)
Do I love LA? Kinda. Sure it's horribly polluted, and vastly indifferent. And everyone there is so annoyingly pretty. But there's lots to love too, and lots of opportunity for a visitor with a plan and some common sense. This is truly the Wild West: untamed, savage, stunningly beautiful and ugly at once. The meanest of mean streets, the trendiest of trendy, the sleaziest of sleazy. Like the little city within driving distance called Las Vegas, it's all about extremes.
I've learned a bit about travel, though. Going carless in LA is a very bad time. The Metro is ineffective and hard to navigate; the cabs are overpriced and clueless. Sad, but true. And did I mention never to fly coach?
Oh yeah, and I learned that selling me and my work is a good thing after all. I fully intend to do it a lot from now on, wherever I am, and wherever I go next.
Enough jet lagged ranting. Now here are photos:
(Blogger layout is idiotic. Just click the links for a closeup.)
View from my hotel, north:
And West
Lunch in Little Tokyo was Saturday. Look for this pagoda:
Found this Buddhist temple on a sidestreet:
And, dude! Palm trees downtown!
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