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…
Scraps
This weekend I convinced my overworked and overtired BF to take a little drive to the Inland Empire. Way out, after navigating several highway numbers I’ve never even heard of before, we found little Chino Airport, home of Planes of Fame Museum. There are at least 4 hangars full of decommissioned airplanes in various states of restoration from flyable to scrap metal. Most interesting were walls of display cases of model planes showing the evolution of aircraft, including experimental planes of all kinds. There’s a lot to see: the planes are crowded in, and there are also pieces of noses, tails and engines displayed. Highlights included Nazi and Japanese warplanes from WWII, including a mocked plane crash complete with jungle backdrop. Sitting outside is a jet that had clearly been hit (a passing visitor mentioned it had been downed by a Sidewinder though I don’t know if that is true) with twisted tortured tail and visible holes. Off to the side was scrap vehicle heaven: planes in disrepair, ambulances, cargo trucks, jeeps, even a Sherman tank. A volunteer mechanic pointedly explained his restoration work on an old truck as slowgoing because “as the sign says” it’s a plane museum, not a vehicle museum. Inside, a former B-17 pilot had his memorabilia laid out, a photo album including shots of his Flight Training, his crew of the “Bad Penny” goofing around, and shots from the air presumably during some of his 35 missions flown out of England, mostly to Germany. Roy was signing autographed photos of the “Bad Penny” crew and recounting his stories. Our veterans are a national treasure – I love that they continue to come out and talk to us youngsters to keep the past alive.
Onward and out to Glen Ivy Hot Springs Day Spa. I knew the BF was reticent because I have heard him profess too too many times that he isn’t good at relaxing but I think he had a good time!
On the way, we stumbled onto this curious little destination: Tom’s Farm. Farmer Tom has his own farmer’s market, plus a burger joint, Senior [sic] Tom’s Mexican food, a furniture mart, a gourmet wine/cheese market that was cranking out pizzas, plus an olde tyme gazebo with live band playing covers of oldies. Meandering around the family area are attractions like mini John Deere tractor track for the kiddies, a carousel, a train that choo choos across the lot. Tons of Little Leaguers seemed to be having season-end parties. And as it turns out, this is a huge biker place! Definitely a little piece of kitschy Americana, reminiscent of places I used to stumble across in the South, but something I never expected to find in SoCal!
