Wonderfilled.

 

To me, Los Angeles is wonderfilled.

Sure it's shabby, sprawling, chaotic, crowded, and often polluted, 

but if you can get beyond that, it's full of 

amazing, weird, and wonderful places and things. 

I grew up 50 miles south of LA in the sleepy little beach town of Laguna Beach. In those days Laguna was a refuge for bohemian artists and gays, a mecca for surf bums, and a home for middle and working class families. There were a few enclaves where the rich had their homes, but it wasn't necessary to have a lot of money to live there. Now, of course, Laguna is one crowded bastion of wealth; the old funky beach town has been replaced by gleaming kitsch stores and organic eateries, the thin-walled beach cottages either completely gutted and remodeled or replaced by lushly landscaped McMansions. Though there are still some legacy residents hanging on, as my mother did until she died three years ago.

In those days, Orange County was still largely orange groves, so if you wanted to go to a department store or visit an art museum, you had to drive 50 miles to the big city. We never saw that as a big deal. Southern California is the home of car culture, so when i came of age, I thought nothing of driving to LA for a movie or a concert or whatever.

So even though we were just in LA a couple days ago, when Ophelia went to visit Riverside to see her sisters, I took advantage of her absence to spend another couple days meandering about the big city.

Unlike New York or San Francisco, you can't meander through LA by foot, however. It's far too spread out for that. So I meandered by car instead, cruising up and down half-remembered streets, discovering new places, and revisiting some of the areas that were important in my life.

I started in the San Gabriel Valley. That's where my paternal grandmother used to live. Then, it was a white, middle-class neighborhood we used to visit on Thanksgiving and Christmas. Long after my grandmother died, the neighborhood became largely Latino, and more recently it has become overwhelmingly Asian. As a consequence, there are dozens of authentic Vietnamese, Chinese, and Thai restaurants there.

I was in the mood for Chinese, and LA Weekly's website had just the place for me: Chengdu Taste, number 18 on their list of LA's top 20 restaurants.

I ordered the Toothpick mutton, a Sichuan dish featuring bits of lamb marinated in a rich mix of spices (even some Indian flavors in there) then sauteed to crispy perfection and smothered with pieces of dried red chile. It was utterly delicious. And insanely hot.

 I usually eat those red peppers whole. I love the flavor and the endorphin rush. But by the end of the meal I had to shove a few of them aside lest my ears and nose start bleeding. So good!

Next stop, my Airbnb find for the night: Lucky Mansion in the heart of Koreatown.

Koreatown is on the west edge of downtown LA, just north of little Oaxaca, and it's huge. My host was Kristina Wong who, according to her blog "is a performance artist, comedian and writer who has created five solo shows and one ensemble play that have toured throughout the United States and UK."

You can catch some of her comedy stylings here:
https://www.youtube.com/user/kristinawong

Kristina recommended that I catch a show by the Upright Citizens Brigade, a comedy ensemble group like Second City. Their main show was sold out, but they had a Improv show at 5:30 for new acts to try out new material, so I booked a ticket for that.

In the meantime, I decided to wander around the neighborhood to get a feel for my surroundings. There are many great old examples of LA architecture like the Wiltern building at the corner of Wilshire and Western.

This part of LA is special to me because part of my family lived here in the early 1900s. My mother's side of the family have lived in Southern California since the 1850s and once owned a small chunk of what is now downtown LA. In fact, there's still a neighborhood north of downtown that is named Solano Canyon after my mother's great grandfather.

The World Public Library says: "The land that is now Solano Canyon was originally purchased from the City of Los Angeles by Francisco Sales de Jésus Solano and his wife, María Rosa de las Mercedes Casanova" (my mom's great grandparents), "in 1866. Natives of Costa Rica, they built an adobe and used the land to live and work. Francisco Solano was a butcher in Sonora Town (just north of the Plaza Church along Calle Principal, or Main Street), and he moved his slaughterhouse and soap factory to the Canyon, while maintaining a corral on Main Street. The land was called Solano Ravine on maps by 1876, and the place where Francisco and Rosa lived was known as Solano Cañon. Solano Canyon became a true community after 1888, when Alfredo Solano" (mom's great uncle), "by then a prominent surveyor and the son of Francisco Solano and Rosa Casanova, subdivided the southernmost, 16-acre parcel of Francisco's property into the 100 lots that exist today."

Alongside the dusty remnants of old Los Angeles, the new Koreatown is thriving.

Wonderfilled, indeed.

 Everybody loves Young Dong!

The comedy show was entertaining. Two sets of as-yet-undiscovered skit performers tested their material on us. Some of the skits were better than others. A couple were hilarious, but there was nothing really groundbreaking. I was impressed, however, by how professional the performers were. I'm sure I'll see them on TV in the near future.

The next day I explored a bit downtown, then headed to the beach, determined to take Pacific Coast Highway south at least to Laguna.

After walking around Santa Monica for a while, I headed for South Central LA for what LA Weekly assured me was the best southern fried chicken in LA: Jim Dandy.

Set on a rundown section of Manchester Ave near the corner of Western, about five miles east of LAX, Jim Dandy has the ambiance you'd expect for a palace of southern fried cooking.

The cashiers and cooks are protected by bulletproof glass, with a secure airlock for exchanging money and food, so you know it's good.

That's what I'm talking about. Non-greasy, perfectly crispy, juicy, and delicious chicken, well-stewed greens with lots of red chile, and tasty corn fritters dusted with powdered sugar. Yum.

With my tastebuds singing with delight, it was time for the beach. It was one of those few crystal clear days that grace LA once in a while. I had forgotten how much I miss the beach. I practically lived on the beach for the first 30 years of my life and the smell of warm sand and cool salt water still brings me an instant rush of peace.

Rather than follow PCH, I decided to circumnavigate the Palos Verdes Peninsula. The views were stunning. To the west, Catalina Island looked close enough to touch. As I rounded the peninsula to San Pedro and LA Harbor, I could clearly see the mountains that ring LA from Mt. Baldy all the way to Saddleback Mountain in Orange County.

Less spectacular was the drive from San Pedro to Long Beach, through the stink of oil refineries and docks and decaying industrial areas. My dad worked here in Wilmington all the time I was growing up, commuting everyday from the paradise of Laguna to this noisy, smelly wasteland.

And speaking of paradise: here's Laguna, the water as clear as the air. I climbed all over these rocks as a child.

A fitting end to a day of nostalgic bliss: a superb mojito at Las Brisas on the bluff above Laguna's Main Beach. O and I used to come here with friends after work to smoke cigarettes and flirt.

P.