LA LA LAND LA LA LAND
Hola from the land of dryness, from the land of rapid fire Spanish and BMWs, from a valley spread so wide it can barely be contained in your whole eye even while you stand above it on Mullholland trying to take it all in.
I am in LA.
The canyons in the hills smell unbelieveable. The aromas of lavender, sage and other herbs I can't name permeate everything as you drive through. There is a rough beauty here, dry beauty, punctuated by colours, a burst of some desert flower or other in the yellow dirt. We went to Topanga canyon last night and ate at Abuelita's: Cucina Familiar. It was amazing, fish tacos and a Dia de los Muertes display.
I adore Dia de los Muertes paraphenalia. All the joyful colours and all of the grinning skulls. It's so morbid. And fascinating.
I have never been in a city this crazy. Can I make this my home? When I saw the ocean in Santa Monica yesterday I was relieved. I hate to be too far from it or I feel claustrophobic. This land is hug, it's like fifteen gigantic cities in one city. It's like taking all major Canadian cities and jamming them into one. From the top of Mulholland I saw just the valley yesterday. JUST THE VALLEY, if you look at a map of LA you'll realise that that's a mere fraction of this metroloplis. Megalopolous.
The plants growing in the courtyard of Steve's building: jade, cacti, aloe vera. Firm succulents that store water like camels, but don't spit the water back out at you. Desert foliage, a landscape I am no more familiar with than the surface of the moon. This is so foreign, even the dirt is foreign, and the big palm trees with all that hair hanging down around them like big beards that haven't been clipped in eons, that's foreign too.
Ah newness, le gros nouveau.
I am in LA.
The canyons in the hills smell unbelieveable. The aromas of lavender, sage and other herbs I can't name permeate everything as you drive through. There is a rough beauty here, dry beauty, punctuated by colours, a burst of some desert flower or other in the yellow dirt. We went to Topanga canyon last night and ate at Abuelita's: Cucina Familiar. It was amazing, fish tacos and a Dia de los Muertes display.
I adore Dia de los Muertes paraphenalia. All the joyful colours and all of the grinning skulls. It's so morbid. And fascinating.
I have never been in a city this crazy. Can I make this my home? When I saw the ocean in Santa Monica yesterday I was relieved. I hate to be too far from it or I feel claustrophobic. This land is hug, it's like fifteen gigantic cities in one city. It's like taking all major Canadian cities and jamming them into one. From the top of Mulholland I saw just the valley yesterday. JUST THE VALLEY, if you look at a map of LA you'll realise that that's a mere fraction of this metroloplis. Megalopolous.
The plants growing in the courtyard of Steve's building: jade, cacti, aloe vera. Firm succulents that store water like camels, but don't spit the water back out at you. Desert foliage, a landscape I am no more familiar with than the surface of the moon. This is so foreign, even the dirt is foreign, and the big palm trees with all that hair hanging down around them like big beards that haven't been clipped in eons, that's foreign too.
Ah newness, le gros nouveau.