Riverbanks

The LA river is the antithesis of what a river could be. It's a concrete gash, looking more like a long sewer, cutting through the least picturesque parts of town, and not exactly tourist friendly. You don't see any options for a promenade, no trees lined up along the banks, and I have rarely seen it actually flowing with water (the only exceptions are when there's been a strong thunderstorm and streets are a wee risky to drive on).


It's a river that evokes gritty urban images, I'm sure it's been filmed in more than its share of movies, and I could be wrong, but it might have been the location of the car race scene in Grease. Ok, not the best example of grit, but that's the only thing that comes to mind!


The banks are littered with graffiti. The concrete slates are prime canvasses for expression. I took these photos on the train, and noticed a few weeks later on my return that some of the work has been whitewashed (city government pouring in money to eradicate petty crime). People may see graffiti as simply hooligan activity, but there is a layer of art. If I had a better shutter finger, I might have been able to take better photos, not to mention telling the train engineer to slow down!

Olvera St.

Across from the Union Station in LA is the center of the city's historical district. LA has history? It may seem like a city without any connection to the past, but LA did not simply spring up from the hills of Hollywood. In the late 1700's 44 families were sent by royal command to settle in the pueblo that is now part of the vast metropolitan sprawl.

Olvera St. is now the location of a Mexican handicraft market, cultural plaza, and connects visitors to a taste of what LA might have been like some centuries ago. It reminds me of the hispanic market in San Antonio, Texas, full of stalls and stores selling woven rugs, ponchos, leathercrafts, dolls, glassworks, sculpture, and food.

It's sleepy on weekday mornings, but on Sunday afternoons, it comes alive with visitors, tourists, and musical events.

Chugging along on the train tracks

Jetlag is over after a 7 hour straight snooze (on the smaller sofa I discovered after waking up curled, fetal position, in my day clothes, horrors!, but pretty comfortable in any case). My friends are about to bid me onwards as I take my first leg of the train trip east, up to Chicago (unless I am swayed by the sight of the Grand Canyon at the stop in Arizona), and after a few days there, to see good friends at Indiana U. Next week will find me in DC, then back on the train west to Portland for donuts and wine and Powell's (my definition of Nirvana). But let's not jump the gun, as it's been a relatively relaxing few days in the city of Angels. Had good meals: Mexican breakfasts (chilaquiles and horchatas), Thai noodles for midnight dinners, Hawaiian breakfasts of pancakes plus portugese sausages, japanese ramen, pizza, and an ube shake with pulled pork at the Oinkster (thanks M and B!). I also treated friends to a whole grilled fish at the San Pedro Port O'Call, watching the seabirds attempt to snatch at the overly buttered garlic breads (or perhaps I should call them loaves since these were not a slice or two of white bread, nope, these were 18 inch mammoth loaves slathered in butter and garlic. Those birds better have their cholesterols checked.).
Thanks to R, I've finally gotten to see Olivera St., and we caught Wicked at the Pantages. Has it only been 4 days?

Conflagration

I first heard about it from my sister by text. "Is Pepperdine affected by the fires in Malibu?" Oh no. The fire season.

Pepperdine is located off the Pacific Coast Highway, in Malibu. The campus (also known as Seaver Campus) was built on a bluff overlooking the ocean, and there's not a year that goes by that it isn't named one of the most beautiful campuses in the US. It also tends to create the myth that Pepperdine students don't study, we're like whoa, surfer dudes/dudettes. Or stoned with the amazing views. Or that we're a bunch of conservative yuppies who drive porsches to school and play tennis with local supercelebrities who live nearby. Well the last statement is sort of true for some of the students there. Luckily not all of us are tarred with the same brush.

The location also doesn't help during the fire season. Given the non-ending drought in the southwest of the US, the fire season seems to happen more and more often. Dry scrub, winds (the infamous Sta. Ana's), add the occasional malicious arsonist, and you have a recipe for disaster. In 1993, the year after I graduated, the campus was closed down for a few days when the fires came too close for comfort. I remember reading a few years back of another close call. And today, there's another case for worry. Checking the school's website after seeing my sister's text, I see that they've announced that classes have been cancelled, that students were evacuated to common spaces away from the dorms near the higher scrub areas, and that roads to campus have been closed down. I have faith that the school's prepared to keep both studnets and buildings safe. But there's no guarantee with fire.

I hope R and my bro stay safe.