 |
| Looking down on El Matador |
So, it's been a while since our last post where we left you with the promise of golden sands and bikini bodies. Be assured that I am here to deliver. The temperature did spike again and with the San Fernando Valley nearing 40C/100F, I knew the coast would be just about perfect. Driving through the canyon to the coast, we could feel the exact moment the temperature went from roasting Valley heat to balmy coastal glory. My favourite Californian beach is the El Matador, a beautiful state beach closer to Ventura county than Los Angeles. It's a photographer's delight and it's a fairly regular occurrence to see swimsuit models draped over the rocks on a shoot or this time, engagement photos and family portraits.
The tiny gravel pit off the coastal highway that serves as a parking lot and the steep climb down to the sand means that to roll around in the sun on El Matador you have to really, really want it. No dilettantes and posers here, which, in LA is saying something. Unlike European beaches, however, there isn't a cafe or bar down on the sand. There isn't even a restroom, only a hideous porta-potty on top of the cliff. It's basically a few hours of lounging and then high-tailing it back to proper plumbing and frappucinos.
 |
| Say what? Public transportation in LA? |
Anyway, it was a lovely afternoon, spent reading and watching the sun slant across the waves. The sea was, as usual, sharply cold and I have to admit, I moped for those gentle, warm seas in southern Europe while I was tossed about by the Pacific Ocean and mauled by seaweed beds. But there is nothing like the sea to ease whatever ails you. The roar and whisper of the waves pouring onto the shore and sweeping back, the sun warming the skin and the ridiculous romance novel I was reading went a long way to lessening the pangs of homesickness.
Knowing that Mr Findingmoxie and I are relative babes in La La land, our friend Mozu offered to take us on a tour of downtown Los Angeles. As a true child of the suburbs, I had never ventured into the heart of LA, which is funny considering that I usually enjoy tramping through cities. Putting together his research, Mozu whipped together an itinerary that showcased the grand old architecture of the downtown and the tucked away food markets.
 |
| Gleaming Union Station |
First stop, pun intended, was the iconic Union Station. Built on a far more glamorous scale than any train station has any right to be, Union Station looks more like some distinguished university library. Vaulted ceilings laid with warm wooden beams overhang the waiting area. The individually divided armchairs are surprisingly posh and plush--all in the retro-fabulous shade of mustard. And paradoxically, given this is a train station, servicing both Amtrak overground and underground metro and all the people in between, there is a tranquility to the station. Much like the hush of a lovely old library really. Like El Matador, Union Station is also a standard for professionally posed photos, so we got into the spirit and mugged around. On either side of the main hall, glass doors open onto a lush garden, lined with one of my favourite flowers of all time: the awesomely huge Birds of Paradise. Now, little known fact, but findingmoxie wanted to have Birds of Paradise in her wedding, notably in Mr Findingmoxie's boutonniere. I mean, how HILARIOUS would it have been to have a ginormous Bird of Paradise on his lapel? Sadly, my florist/bridesmaid refused, pointblank. But on our LA tour, I got as close to that dream as I probably ever will.
 |
| Behold. |
 |
| Waiting for take off. |
Ambling along, our next stop was Olvera Street, a row of Mexican stalls and delicious looking eateries. We tacoed for lunch and despite promising ourselves that we wouldn't overeat beans and rice, we did. And how. Never had a walking tour been so welcome.
We saw City Hall, wandered into the beautiful Los Angeles Public Library and even found ourselves outside the Biltmore Hotel, where I had had my high school prom many moons ago and in the lobby of which Mr Findingmoxie and Mozu forced me to acknowledge that more years had gone by than I had accounted for in my mental math. I won't lie; that was a blow. But I firmly believe that you're as young as you act and so, I promptly played in a public fountain. And blessedly, just like that, the balance in my world was restored.
 |
| Peek-a-boo |
 |
| Cooling our tired feet in our personal fountain of youth |
Our tour concluded with the Last Bookstore of Los Angeles, a virtual playground of books and more books, where the very medium of books acted as an art installation. The entire upper level housed used books that were priced at a dollar each. One dollar! Hardcovers, too! I may have geeked out. Needless to say, I walked out with an armful or two.
Tired, slightly pink and excited by the hidden promise of LA, we made our way back to the San Fernando Valley to sit around a backyard fire pit with my family. All in all, have to admit, Los Angeles surprised me.
Next up: Flat hunting in San Francisco, because this town is not big enough for the findingmoxie and parents.
