I went to Los Angeles to hang out with my sister. Typically I don’t really care for Southern California. In fact I’d say it was fair that I suffer an irrational bias against the LA area. It’s a Northern California thing, we don’t contract words (we say San Francisco, they say “SF” or “‘Frisco”,) we do drive like we’ve lost our minds, but not like Los Angeles, in fact we’d rather walk if we can. We don’t walk around wearing our artificial youth like we’re Lindsey Lohan at the shopping mall, and we certainly don’t wear fur lined moon boots to the beach. We do have our problems. We’re not perfect, far from it. But I grew up in a chilly, jacketed environment with a deeply dim opinion of anything south of Clovis. Really, anything south of Berkeley. Emotionally I include San Jose and all points south of San Francisco with the concept of the filthy SoCal. Filthy indeed is the land of movie stars, face lifts, blithe titter which passes for conversation, Marlborough 100’s, meaningless relationships, professional social climbing, and shameless abundance.
So, naturally, when I have spent time in LA in the past, my guard has been up, and I have tried not to get sucked into anything or anyone. I have to keep my cynic’s cap tightly snuggled around my ears, and my starry eyes protected. Fact is, it’s nice down there. It’s cheaper, warmer, friendlier, and there’s always something to do.
The landscape of Southern California has expanded beyond the concept of inner city and sub urban area. The sprawl has collided into the most bizarre array of strip malls, housing developments and freeways. The sprawl is low, and huge. But there are all of the urban rewards. This is not true in San Francisco. San Francisco rivals New York City and Tokyo for out of control property values, rent prices, and stress. But is there a place to go where you can smoke? Nope. Is there a club you can dance in after 3am? Nope. Are there hoards of people pushing and shoving to get into art exhibits, movie houses, concerts, and clever little bars? Not a chance. It’s dead here, and what we get in return for the $2,700 a month we pay in rent is access to good restaurants (you can’t deny that we have great food,) a handful of interesting grocery stores, cafe’s and city parks, and a street life of unmedicated crack heads, and lunatics. It’s just not worth it.
I had a wonderful time with my sister, and now that I’m back in the Bay Area I’m sitting here staring at the wall again feeling like the bias I’ve suffered all my life has been unfair, harsh, much too broad, and simply not true. I’m not going to pack my bags and move to Culver City this afternoon, but I wanted to let you know that I realize I was wrong. California is more united than I thought it was. We are agreed in our feelings about development, gentrification, smoking in public places, and George Bush’s abject failure to do anything but jack the shit out of gas prices and murder Americans for no reason. The climate of north and south produces different lifestyles, but in the end LA is actually a metropolitan area, with world class services, and amenities. San Francisco is a cute little city with a hapless police force, and nothing to do (my god, am I really writing this?)
I am as surprise, if not more so, than anyone.
4 Comments
Permalink
I know I personally busted your chops on this subject recently but I was smiling both in face and in heart to read this. I suspected that you hadn’t spent enough time in L.A. at the right moment to see what was wonderful about it. You’re absolutely right: L.A. has its problems just like San Francisco does (and pretty much every other place I’ve ever been if I stayed long enough to get cranky about something, meaning a couple of weeks, generally - I’m cheerful by nature.)
I just thought you had a bias I saw for a decade or more of living in the Bay Area against Los Angeles that does not seem to go the other way. I’ve never heard someone in L.A. say they hated San Francisco. I’ve heard people, including myself, prefer the East Bay for various reasons, but the L.A. bias seems very herded to people who grew up in the Bay Area proper.
I always found that sad because moving to L.A. when I did I am quite certain saved my life.
I remember sitting on a swing set at the seashore in Venice or Santa Monica with my sister, rested for the first time in a long time after way too long a meth binge, and all the resulting bad luck that had come about from that, and I said to her, “I could be happy here.”
And I have been, for 20 years now.
There are corners in L.A. that still amaze me. The Farmer’s Market (the old part of it anyway) is a sacred site in my book. I could go on.
I’m just so glad you got a chance to hang out and have a great time… come back anytime (she says just as she is seriously considering spending a summer in Taos :) :) :)
Permalink
That’s funny…
I was sitting on 14th Street in Santa Monica a couple of days ago, sipping a coffee, feeling the cool ocean breeze brush past my face and I said “I could be happy here” to no one.
kismet
Permalink
**Smirk**
Permalink
Kismet!
Oh, one more that I loved. Shortly after I moved to L.A. a friend I made in Berkeley who had moved back to Albuquerque came to visit.
We are driving through L.A. from the airport and I am informing:
This is Malibu, damn it, I always go the wrong way when I pick someone up at the airport.
This goes off to Topanga.
This is Santa Monica.
THEN THE NEXT DAY, WE GO OUT AGAIN FROM ECHO PARK:
Now we are in Silverlake.
This is Los Feliz.
This is Hollywood.
This is West Hollywood.
And he says, “We’ve been in thirty different places since you picked me up at the airport.
Where is L.A.?”