L.A.

I was lying in bed, reading, and feeling glad, almost blessed that I had finally found a Muriel Spark book I hadn't read before. It is a collection of short stories and I got it for under $5 in a quirky second-hand place called The Last Bookstore in Los Angeles. I realized that this also meant that at least one good thing came out of our week in LA. 

So then I gave it a real think. The donuts at California Donuts were delicious. Dunkin's icing is sickly sweet. But these donuts were more creamy and less artificial. I had a mango cronut, again lovely cream filling between a croissant-donut cross. On our flight back to Boston, we watched a documentary called Donut King, which gave us some more insight into the story behind these donuts. Apparently Cambodian refugees cornered the donut market in California. They saw it as their one way out of a shit situation. So they mastered the donut art, and worked ridiculous hours so much so that even Dunkin with its scale couldn't break into the region. 

Santa Monica beach is a chill place to hang. We got ginormous churros from the pier. The vendor, taking stock of our order felt obliged to comment, "you must be really hungry". We walked along the footpath, keeping an eye out for hordes of attractive people, which television promised me I would find in LA beaches, but it was pretty much the same as at any other beach.

LA has a robust Koreatown. We had Korean BBQ a couple of times and went to the local mall one day. There were several stores dedicated to massage chairs. Mike was delighted to see that he and Koreans saw eye-to-eye on how to spend one's retirement years.

We had a nice, long walk along Sunset Strip, past Beverly Hills and window-shopped in Rodeo Drive. It's a clean, posh area, but I couldn't possibly buy anything from there. There were other neighborhoods, with beautiful homes, and I enjoyed walking by these, just as I do back here in Salem. I appreciate the fact that someone else spends effort and money to maintain these houses, so that I can have the pleasure of looking at them.

There is also the Original Farmer's Market. Mike was pleased with the pastrami they had and I managed to get a crumbly, creamy, apple-compote filled dessert right before the shop closed for the day. I also enjoyed the weird, but delicious ice creams at Salt & Straw, which seems to be a West Coast chain. I had one scoop with a hint of lavender in it, and now I understand the magic of herbs in a dessert. The other one had pear and blue cheese in it. I was wary of the cheese, but it wasn't overpowering and the umami-pear pair worked well together.

We checked out the Getty, since it is listed as a must-see attraction on every what to do in LA post. It is less about art  and more about the building's architecture. The only piece that really caught my eye was a black and white photograph of priests dancing in the snow. 

As Mike and I made our way out, an ancient docent, bald, stooped and wrinkly, asked us what languages we spoke. Mike told him I spoke English, Malayalam and Hindi. He must have been confirming that I am Indian with that question, for he turned to me and started singing "Kabhi kabhi mere dil mein..." I was pleasantly taken aback and we dived into his history, he is originally from Lebanon, he studied Sanskrit in JNU and somehow found his way to the US and this job at the museum. He showed us his big ruby ring for which he paid an abhorrent price--"everyone in college teased me, who would pay so much money for a ring like that, they said, but I still have it." Then he directed us towards a spot in the museum from which we can get a panoramic view of the city, which turned out to be quite nice indeed.

So those were the highlights. But there were lowlights as well, and though I will say less about it, it dominated our experience on a day-to-day basis. The downtown is a mess and it is unsafe, so is LA's metro system. The city itself is a sprawl, and getting from one spot to another is a pain. The hotel we were staying at had the fire alarm go off early one morning. And of course it was a false alarm, set off by a filming crew, and the hotel staff simply denied that it happened, in spite of the fact that there were other people rushing down the stairwell along with us. I will however, in retrospect, concede that this made our LA experience complete. Finally, even though I regret not purchasing one of those fake Oscar statues to award the best business pitch in my entrepreneurship class, the Hollywood Boulevard and the Universal Citywalk are both a waste of time, unless you are so truly starstruck that sighting your favorite tv personality's name on a dirty street gives you goosebumps. Mind you, Angela Lansbury is mentioned twice, as she should be.