02 March 2009

i love LA!



as the song goes!

i fly down state, leaving a dreary san francisco behind me, and a great evening at the contemporary jewish museum as well. sounds of sheryl crow whisper in my ear as i de-plane at LAX, bopping down the concourse to a waiting naomi! reminiscent of an earlier time, when she also 'attempts' to greet us at los angeles international - we are on our way back to new york from a month in thailand - and our dear friend has a basket of breakfast waiting for us (so characteristically sweet). however, our flight is late, our connection tight that time; the airline sends us through back passages so we can make our flight home, and we miss naomi completely! none of us have cell phones (this is, after all, the pre-google era of dinosaurs roaming the earth), so we are ships, or planes, that pass in the night.

and we're off, to culver city for lunch in this very cool district. jason joins us - he's great! we have enormous salads, beer, and talk about recycling, the environment, hillary and barack - so refreshing to be with smart and conscious friends!

we continue ... palm trees, sunshine, hysterical laughter ... and pick up the girls. at once, we are serious, huddled in meaningful conversation; then suddenly, it turns, and we are goons! naomi insists that we must walk to 'toppings' for a pre-dinner snack of low-fat frozen yogurt; the girls (adorable!) carefree on scooters, me on my rickety two legs (almost 100 years old between the two of them!). oh, the agony! had i known that i would be walking ten miles (or so it seems) in either direction for my delectable treat i'd have hailed a cab (do they do that in the city of angels?). memories of frequent visits to l.a. - with the kids when they were younger, before every school break descended into a tour of donkeys and exotic cultures - dance in my head.

we finally reach our destination, have our muli-topped yogurt (so good) and head back to beverlywood. it's magnificent to stroll outside in february, even on the heels of our south african dalliance. sunshine, cars. LA is in fact, a city of cars - and quite suitably designed for the beast. gas stations (BP) are ultra cool; drive through windows beckon, and everything is made to be visualized at 45 mph. parking is easy, the scale is 'low', and lots of light hits the pavement. it seems strange to romanticize this aspect of the city; however, it really 'works' and makes it quite livable - much more so than the tangle of streets that characterize the northeast's suburban sprawl. not to mention that the drives, at least off the freeway, are civilized.

we hang at home, then it's off to the avalon for cocktails and snacks, poolside. a smart hotel with a lovely courtyard pool, candelight, great seating; when we arrive, we are seated next to the bamboo grove under the stars immediately. WHAT? how is this possible? thursday night in LA, at a swanky and cool locale. how can we three possibly snag a fantastic table like this? i haven't quite figured that one out yet - if this was new york, you wouldn't even be able to walk INTO a place like this, any night. let alone get a table, a cocktail promptly, and some delicious finger food (turkey sliders on brioche! gourmet 'fish and chips'!).

we retire, and talk way past our bedtime - i still am on shaky ground as far as the time zones go.

morning brings greek yogurt from the stone age - thanks naomi - which i insist will only bolster my immune system. naomi's gorgeous girls are off, and so are we ... me in jason's 'spinning' shoes. naomi has elected to take me to THE spinning class in LA - tevia's (sic?) class. i've been told that if i'm tired (or on the verge of angioplasty no. 2) at any point during the 45 minute (!) torture, i can 'sit down' on the bike. what? aren't i going to be sitting down whilst riding? no, no, no - you 'stand' on, or over, the pedals, moving your tiny legs (aged as noted, already exhausted from the frozen yogurt escapade) rapidly to the music and tevia's optimistic, microphone enhanced thoughts.

i sweat a bucket but manage to: 1. live through the experience; 2. survive LA's lethal body conscious scene without anyone snickering; 3. have a great time with naomi! we reward ourselves handsomely at urth café off melrose - yummy cheese plate fit for a king, or a deflated new yorker who's exhausted! an enormous latté follows, along with 54 cent confitures and a fresh squeezed oj. we are so blessed to be outside, in workout clothes, having petit dejeuner in the sunlight!

yet, what's for lunch? we propose abbot kinney, the fun part of venice, and head there only after a brief shower. i am flying home at night, and we are determined to get to as many eateries as possible! we immediately scope out a new restaurant - perfect and cool and delicious - and propose a lengthy stroll before dining (as we've just eaten minutes earlier!). however, our stomachs and eyes get the best of us; we make it up half a block, immediately turn around, and proceed to gorge ourselves in the fantastic GJELINA. this place is stunning and uber hip. we are at a communal table, inquiring as to the pedigree of each dish. what would you suggest, and the waiter responds. we accept some of his offerings, reject others. he nods approvingly, and we share a spectacular soup, it's base at least a liter of olive oil. it's worth noting that we reject the large plate of french fries - too much oil for our lithe bodies - and ironically the soup is appropriately and deliciously swimming in said viscous liquid. how sad for us! we stop the proprietor, who is attending to one of the actors from the movie 'he's just not that into you' and inquire if a smaller platter of fries is available. nope, just the one (huge) size. we decide, oddly, NOT to go for it (there is gelato, after all). nonetheless, he returns momentarily, wielding a small plate with samples of the beloved crispy potatoes - how nice!

full and happy, we ponder gelato on this design street, or picking up the girls and going to beverly hills with them for ice cream there. we opt for the latter - although they insist that another walk to toppings would suit them fine - not me, i'm out of breath thinking about the ice cream. it's off to BH - we park conveniently, and i admonish naomi once again - parking in LA is easy, and there never seems to be any traffic! she protests, insisting that the wednesday evening before thanksgiving the freeway was totally backed up. that's all she could come up with! the LIE in new york is backed up on tuesday evenings at midnight in the middle of winter! we could teach those westerners a thing or two about intensity!

rodeo drive is deserted - 5 pm on a friday, nary a foreign tourist or movie star in sight. where have all the dollars gone? not here.

jason and the girls join us, and after an episode of the partridge family, our lovely time together draws to a close. we venture out to typhoon for dinner at the santa monica airport - and have a great meal. naomi and jason are lovely, generous, funny; and we say our sad farewells! of course, they get me to the airport with plenty of time to catch the red-eye home - NOT! perpetually resistant to arriving on time for flights, they transfer their laissez-faire-ness to me; i am forced to remove my giant metal belt buckle in the car, running furiously through security - more x-rated x-rays, and settle in for the short hop home.

back to reality, after being a makeshift road warrior the past few weeks - and loving it!

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