The Reluctant Angeleno
Just about anyone who has crossed paths with me over the last 6 years knows that I have a hate/love relationship with Los Angeles. Most days leaned to the hate side for reasons common to any Right Coast transplant. No seasons or street life. No delis. Little culture. Microwaved egg sandwiches (ick). Horrendous traffic and worse drivers. Crappy pizza and bagels. Oppressive Valley heat, unending strips of strip malls. Ubiquitous fake boobs on blondes and the pathetic men who chase them. The fact that The Biz pretty much is the single business in town.
Slowly I have grown to appreciate - and on good days, love - this place. There really are lots of interesting places and things to explore. Some of them I’m writing about here. And so what if it takes a bit of research and time behind the wheel to suss them out?
Case in point: the Santa Monica Mountains National Recreation Area. Hundreds of acres of scenic views and hiking trails in honest-to-goodness wild right smack in the middle of the “city”. There’s (in)famous Runyon Canyon, where many a starlet can be seen with her designer dog. Too much dog poop for me, but you can’t beat the proximity! Or there’s Wilacre off Fryman and Coldwater with its cute doggie fountain, eucalyptus in the breeze, Tree People eco-hikes, and the adorable amphitheater.
Or my newest find, Franklin Canyon, where you can walk around the reservoir, or sit on benches and watch the mallards paddle in the duck pond. Up the fire-road Hastrain trail, I passed bamboo patches, with fragant fennel patches in the shade of the bamboo. I crushed leaves of what I think was California bay laurel, and its refreshing scent stayed with me for about 1/2 mile. Huge dragonflies. Flocks of something like guinea hens disturbed from their rushes. Lizards galore. Amazing views, though it’s too smoggy today to see the Pacific.
Who knew? And miles more trail to discover before I leave…
