The Middle Ages: L.A. is a place of empty rivers and full hearts. Here’s my guide for a newcomer.
My 26-year-old niece is moving here soon, so I’ve made a few notes for her about life in Los Angeles:
Dear Amy, looking forward to your arrival. I want to warn you that Southern California is a little different. For instance, it is the only American city strung together by beach volleyball nets. Like vertebrae, they form a skeletal underpinning that protects us from earthquakes. Mostly it works.
As you know from visits, L.A. is a diverse place — in activities, in skin tone, in temperament. It is the land of Richard Nixon and Jane Fonda, of Silicon Beach and the Warner’s lot. Volleyball nets form its spine, and so do freeways. You’ll find that there is a freeway to everywhere, except the places everyone needs to go — Fairfax and 3rd or West Hollywood.
Before you come, be sure to read your Chandler. Be sure to read your Nathanael West. They were both sort of right about Los Angeles.
“From 30 feet away she looked like a lot of class,” Chandler once wrote. “From 10 feet away she looked like something made up to be seen from 30 feet away.”
And Amy, that pretty much sums up your adopted new town.
L.A. was built in one hour, on a very hot Friday afternoon.
The challenge and the glory of Los Angeles is that it changes so fast that it defies definition. You can’t really chronicle L.A., except maybe in a tweet. L.A. was built in one hour, on a very hot Friday afternoon.
Change is life, change is grand. When you find a place in L.A. with a sense of history, maybe some exposed brick, appreciate it, because they’re about to tear it down.
That’s the flip side of progress, of idealism, of a restless and creative spirit.
In L.A., unlike other big cities, nobody recognizes the city council members, no matter how badly they screw things up. There are more homeless people out here than trees.
We are a town of thundering special effects and no weather. There is rarely a cloud in L.A. The river is empty but the ocean stays pretty full.
When it does rain, everyone rejoices and then skids off the road. Once every two years, someone uses a turn signal.
Cars are what we mostly worship, but you’ll find many religious choices here too. Approximately 20% of L.A. residents believe in unicorns. Some 30% believe in hobbits. Only 5% believe in a benevolent God.
Oh, I jest because after living here for nearly 30 years, I love L.A. and its open minds … its empty minds, and every now and then, its very brilliant minds. In L.A., you’ll run across the smartest people you’ll ever meet, and they’ll probably be driving for Uber.
Still, it is a magnificent and inspiring place — America’s shining city on a hill. You’d have to move to Monaco to find mountains this close to beaches, or wild animals this close to ingénues. In the foothills, we keep black bears as pets.
Los Angeles is absolutely a wonderful place to eat. For a few bucks, you can get fish tacos with a tangy sauce you can’t identify. Or, for $300, you can have a sit-down dinner at Totoraku, a restaurant without a sign.
This is the place where fusion meets fusion, where Asia meets America, where good marries evil then immediately begins to see other people. If you live right, most of the time you will have seawater in your hair. Most of the year, your bare feet will have a leathery bottom, as if it is always summer.
It isn’t.
All that “endless summer” stuff comes from the ’50s and ’60s. The bohemian vibe from that time is slipping away, quashed by gentrification and surprisingly long work weeks. The only thing endless about L.A. now is the talk of making LAX better, which we never will.
LAX is our failed welcome mat and proof that we don’t really care about what outsiders think.
Amy, you know that awkward moment when someone in the audience starts a standing ovation but no one joins them? You see that a lot in L.A. It defines the sweet but obstinate nature of our town. Here, even school plays don’t necessarily receive standing ovations. Even as a third-grader, you have to “earn it.”
In that sense, Los Angeles is a very tough town. As I tell my kids: “Don’t be nice, there’s no future in it.”
Yet, your cousins grew up here and have managed to stay very nice, as have most of the people we know. Strangers on the street are genuinely nice. That person on the next bar stool, or at the table next to you at the Farmers Market, might be from Chile or Germany, or Prague or Peoria.
And they’ll have a smile and a nod for you, and an interesting story to share.
Soon, like Chandler and West, you will too.
Twitter: @erskinetimes
MORE MIDDLE AGES:
How the kids are helping mend their mom
My lunch with screen legend Angie Dickinson
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