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A snowy day in Manhattan is a good time to daydream about where I might like to go when I take some time off this summer.
I'm a little surprised to find myself thinking of returning to Los Angeles. Like every self-respecting New Yorker, many's the time I've openly mocked La-la Land, but I have to admit, the seven days I spent there last summer was as fine a week's vacation as I've spent in some time.
My first impression of the City of Angels, back in 1992, was not a particularly positive one. I was traveling cross-country (I spent four months on the road and set foot in all 48 contiguous states) and arrived in L.A. at the end of my favorite leg of the journey: two weeks spent traversing Route 66 from end to end.
I managed to have a little touristy fun that time -- as a movie buff, LA is certainly not without interest for me -- but my lingering impression of that three-day sojourn was colored by a non-violent (thankfully) but plenty frightening road rage incident.
The second time I visited L.A. was at the very end of my book tour in July of 2000. I never dreamed that promoting one's book could be so tiring (especially when the book in question is a relatively minor title -- I mean, it's not as though members of the media were knocking down my door). So I did little that trip but relax and regroup.
But last summer, I finally got a real taste of the city for the first time. I spent one day on a self-curated (with the help of this book) tour of Raymond Chandler's LA (I visited several locations that appear in his novels, including the corner where Philip Marlowe's office was located, and drove by three of Chandler's many area residences). Another day was devoted to a walking tour ofHollywood Boulevard (there are informative signs along the way that point out sites of interest). I got to visit Venice Beach for the first time (and stroll along the canals, which I never even knew existed) and revisit the Santa Monica Pier. I patronized a number of beautiful old movie theatres (LA has it all over NYC in this regard), including the glorious Mann's Chinese, and poked my nose in for a peek at several others (I was frustrated by the fact that seemingly every old bijou I wanted to see was playing TERMINATOR 3). I ate lunch at Musso and Frank Grill, the oldest restaurant in Hollywood, and Miceli’s Italian Restaurant, Hollywood's oldest pizzeria. I also enjoyed a refreshing beverage one afternoon at the resurrected Pig 'n Whistle.
I made a driving tour of movie stars' homes (including, among many others, the abodes of Jimmy Stewart, Lucille Ball, Mary Pickford and Douglas Fairbanks [the storied Pickfair}, Groucho Marx, Harold Lloyd, Nat "King" Cole, Buster Keaton, Will Rogers, Milton Berle, and Ernst Lubitsch) and walked among the very fine vintage skyscrapers of downtown L.A., including the gorgeous Bradbury Building. I visited the La Brea Tarpits and the L.A. County Museum of Art.
And yet, there's much more to I'd like to see and do there. I enjoy just driving the city's various neighborhoods; I love the architecture of even many of the more modest homes.
And I've a number of friends in Los Angeles that I always enjoy looking up.
I'd like to visit Santa Anita, see the Getty, take in the Hearst Mansion, and, hopefully, catch a movie at some of those classic picture palaces that were showing T3 last summer.
Now, if I can only convince my friend Pat to allow me to crash at her place once again. I've told her she's welcome to visit me in NYC anytime she likes, but so far, I'm three visits ahead of her -- and counting.
Posted by brett at 05:38 PM | TrackBack