We arrived in the mainland U.S. at LAX. It was a pleasure not to have to clear customs there, just proceed as domestic passengers. I admit to feeling a twinge as the Hawaiian Airlines staff said “Mahalo” to us. Wouldn’t be hearing that here in the lower 48.
As some of you will be aware, it was the World Cup of soccer this summer. We sensed the atmosphere right away after getting our rental car and stopping for a quick breakfast at McDonald’s. I don’t recommend the breakfast, but there was a TV on and it was playing the Mexico game. Mexico did quite well in the group stage, shocking Germany, and to watch them play in the company of La Brea residents was like being at a home match.
I can recommend the car rental at LAX. It was the smoothest process I ever remember, probably because we did it all ourselves at a kiosk. Normally I don’t like being forced to do everything myself at a kiosk, but rental car people always spend so much time trying to talk you into duplicate insurance or upgrades you don’t need, and it’s wearying after a long trip. This time (with the help of a worker standing nearby to answer any questions) we just walked out and picked the car we wanted from a row of compact cars. The first one we got into, we couldn’t figure out how to adjust the driver’s seat—surprisingly common in these newfangled vehicles. Normally this means a time-consuming trip back to the rental desk for help, but this time, we just climbed in the next car and drove away.
We stopped in Hollywood and visited Grauman’s Chinese Theatre. The attraction for us was not the movie theatre, but the Walk of Fame and historic foot (and other) prints left by stars.
Also there was a character who apparently walks around every day selling toilet paper with Tweeter printed on it. We declined this, but I did appreciate the T-shirt he was wearing: “Not anti-American, just anti-stupid.”
Driving is the thing in California, and we didn’t have to camp this time, because our accommodation was arranged. We are blessed to have a series of cousins and friends along the coast of the Golden State—the goal was to see as many as possible! First stop was to visit my cousins Adam and Alma in Pasadena.
Adam and I go way back in traveling terms. He joined my family on an epic 1997 road trip, including (with my dad, brother, and me) a descent to the river at the bottom of the Grand Canyon, and back up to the South Rim, in temperatures that reached 125 degrees Fahrenheit. Good times. Now, with his beautiful wife Alma and daughters Camila and Victoria, he was our host and guide to his hometown, LA.
It is a curious fact that a surprising number of children call us Aunties, none of whom are my niece. Camie and Ria are among these. They are delightful girls, but have their dad’s competitive streak and the family penchant for card games. Adam traces this back to our great-grandmother, the formidable Gi Gi, who was not only a whiz at pinochle but ran a motel in Las Vegas around 1960—wish I had those stories! In any case, Camie and Ria kept the games of Old Maid and Go Fish going, and were sure to note when either of us lost.
We’d flown the redeye from Honolulu so were pretty tired, and the family had plans that evening. But they set us up at a members’ evening at the Huntington Library, one of Pasadena’s most significant locations.
We walked around the gardens and started to listen to the outdoor concert. But this summer series is less about hearing the music and more about enjoying one’s picnic. Some of these folks had quite elaborate basketsful!
The next afternoon our cousins took us on a walking tour of downtown LA. We saw the Broad (rhymes with road) art gallery, which had far too long a line to get in, the concert hall and the playhouse. For sustenance, there was Grand Central Market, which has been bringing together old and new cuisines in Los Angeles since 1917.
It was Sunday, and when we got to the Catholic cathedral a special mass was about to start. It was “in recognition of all immigrants.” Immigrants are such a part of America and especially Los Angeles, but lately, it seems that we are “everywhere spoken against,” like the early Christian church.
Especially under siege are the group nicknamed “Dreamers”—people brought to the U.S. as children, who know no other home, but who through no fault of their own have no legal status nor any path to legal status. At a time when the federal government seems maddeningly unable to address a single issue, it was heartening to see the community of Our Lady of the Angels pulling together behind their neighbors.
Outside the cathedral there was a protester against Pride Month. “LGBTIQ is a deadly sin!” his sign proclaimed. While of course I disagree with this belief, I admit to being impressed that an opponent could keep up with the latest string of letters. I’ve long since been with the writers Nicola Griffith and Kelly Eskridge, who use “quiltbag” to cover the multitude of identities we celebrate during Pride.
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| At least Dunkin' Donuts was on our side. |
Ever since Mauritius, our brother-in-law Paul had been urging us to get up to a rooftop bar. We didn’t manage any of the skyscrapers in Asia, but the dress code is more relaxed in California. Alma knew a place called Perch, where even kids are allowed except on the top floor.
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| T., Camie, and Alma |
Here as in so many places, the flag patches on my daypack drew people’s attention. “I like your Tanzania flag,” a woman said to me, and indicated that the guy she was with was from Tanzania. It’s a favorite of mine too (the country, not just the flag).
It was then that I didn’t see Dolly Parton. LA is all about star-spotting for some, and we were at the beautiful Biltmore Hotel, where the LA Press Club was meeting. Adam and T. saw Dolly Parton hustling past with her retinue. It is not clear to me why East Tennessee’s most famous native was at the LA Press Club, but in any case, I was in the bathroom. Of course.
But who needs Dolly when you can meet Frankie? Another cousin of ours, Frankie is making her way in the singing business and doing a fine job of it, as attested by no less than Olivia Newton-John and Taylor Swift. T. and I were tickled that she found time to meet us for lunch the next day. It is more than Beyoncé has managed to do.
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| Ladies who lunch |
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| Ria helped with the pancakes. |
The day we were in Hollywood, it was too foggy (or smoggy) to see the famous sign on the hill. Alma was determined to rectify this, so took us to the Griffith Observatory.
The observatory has featured in films and has a cool telescope poking out of it.
We finally got our pictures of the Hollywood sign. And of Los Angeles wreathed in its equally famous smog.
It was so lovely having family wanting to entertain (and feed) us. We weren't done yet, but the central coast was calling, so the next day we took off towards Ventura. As soon as we could, we got the 101 going north, detouring to Highway 1 wherever possible. This is the scenic route that can take you all the way up to San Francisco, if you have enough time. It took us through little communities still advertising “chop suey” and other things that haven’t changed in years.
We saw a lot of state troopers, but I’m not sure what you’d have to do to get pulled over by the highway patrol. One driver was stopped in the middle of the road, just to take a picture. I didn’t get a picture of him.
Our goal was Grover Beach, the quieter neighbor of Pismo Beach, and my cousin Juliet’s house. Juliet is Adam’s sister and has three amazing daughters of her own. The youngest, Autumn, was kind enough to lend us her room for a few nights. She was busy preparing cupcakes and succulents to sell the next morning.
Longtime followers of my blog may recall that when she was very small, Autumn was found to have a Wilms’ tumor. She and her parents and sisters went through a tough time of kidney surgery and chemotherapy, but you would never know it now. It was not that many visits ago that Autumn was solemnly telling T., “I had cancer, you know.” We are all so thankful to see how healthy and active she is today. |
| Lindsey |
We were happy to be joined at supper by Juliet’s partner, Thomas. The next day, we went for a long walk on the beach. “June gloom” had set in that morning, and it was a bit cool, but the beach was unspoiled.
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| T. Juliet, and Sage |
The girls all had various friends coming and going. We were with Autumn and Scarlet when the sun came out that afternoon. Juliet took us to Morro Bay, the beginning of the scenic highway we would take further north. We saw a sea lion and several sea otters.
Then we enjoyed some quality time (and food, naturally) in downtown San Luis Obispo. In the evening we were treated to dinner by Juliet and the girls’ dad, Jeff. In all our comings and goings T. had never actually met Jeff before, so it was great to see him after so many years. Jeff and Juliet are both terrific parents raising wonderful daughters. The Italian food was pretty out of this world, too.
1 comment:
Delightful times with cousins and nieces in LA and Grover Beach. Clearly, you had superb hosts! G & P
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