I didn't believe it myself when my friend told me.
"You know Ben, if you walk outside with that red hair-band around your wrist...everyone will think you study the Kabbalah."
What? Seriously? It wouldn't occur to a single soul that I just so happen to have a red hair-band wrapped around my wrist JUST IN CASE I might want to put my hair up?
Indeed, it was true. I laughed and laughed every time someone would ask my friend if I was a Kabbalist just like they were. As they stroked their own red string tied around their wrist, I would see them whispering it like it was a secret which was quite ridiculous considering how obvious it is while letting the world know right there on your wrist.
Don't they realize in superficial wonderland known as LA? - Real Jews don't need the Kabbalah!
Where was I in this telling of my love-hate relationship with America's second largest city?
Ah, yes - the sunset; so much beauty where the sly dances with the glorious mountains that succumb to defeat in the ocean - a conclusion to the dramatic love triangle known as the California coast. But alas, I traversed north, head on into the horrible traffic that inundated all of the Orange County urban sprawl, suffocating with smog.
I was exhausted and could NOT wait to arrive in West Hollywood, where my friend who I would be staying with lived. I so much looked forward to the prospect of unwinding from my long days of continuous driving.
Who was I going to visit? Her name (remember this one kids) is Sara Zofko - the aspiring film maker and student at Pasadena's Art Center. You might remember her (minus the hair extensions) as the girl who broke my heart back around this time four years ago. We had been best friends, our lives intertwined since before Sara left Florida State for her home State, Ohio the year prior.
It was a difficult year that followed the (temporary) end of our friendship, but it became a year of healing and then a year of forgiveness and finally a resurgence. This was the first time seeing her since, and we've both grown leaps and bounds into our own. We are two very different people (example - she LOVES LA), but I think that was what always kept us interested.
We were going to have fun. She was going to spend the weekend showing me how fabulous Los Angeles really is for us non-believers. And Los Angeles was going to allow me to experience just how easy it embraces the skeptics. Even with beer at six dollars a pop.
Sara lives in an apartment with a roommate who is my age and makes six figures. Their apartment is out of a design magazine its so perfect - with its glass basin sinks, euro-design kitchen casework, sub-zero refrigerator, modern classic furniture, and Steinway grand piano. Its sooooo LA - I was told, later. But when I first arrived, I got a good nap in before Sara came home from school. When she did we went out for dinner at a swanky Hollywood Chinese restaurant. We came home and crashed. In the morning we arose and returned my rental car. I hopped in her red Volvo and we booked it to Pasadena through Laurel Canyon. Sara had a meeting with her professor to get to.
Traffic was surprisingly kind to us and we arrived in Pasadena with enough time to check out the Art Center's new downtown campus. I had been there before when it was under construction back in 2003. However, I didn't get to go on the tour because I was wearing open-toed shoes and was denied admittance on the construction site. But now it was not an issue and I eagerly walked in with my sandals and fervently scoped out the former wind turbine testing space turned student exhibition gallery.
Its so cavernous that the the space dwarfs the size of the truck in the back. Without a doubt, I was thoroughly impressed by the caliber of the artwork displayed.
Then we headed uptown to the main campus - a contrasting black rectangle perched over a ravine, overlooking the mountains and valleys beyond.
The entry drive beside the ravine. The building was designed by Craig Ellison who was clearly channeling Mies Van Der Rohe.
The exterior walkway.
The building's bottom side and possibly my favorite side.
Oh, how I wish I had a laser! Its probably a bad idea considering how many times I put water on to boil and then get distracted before I remember that 20 minutes ago I was supposed to be making tea. Speaking of which...
I imagine I would begin to feel imposed by all those fines.
Since we were in Pasadena and Pasadena is the Center of the Universe for the American Arts & Crafts Movement, I had Sara take me to the Gamble House, by Greene & Greene circa a century ago.
I had been there once before - again back in 2003 during our Los Angeles field trip with FLLWSA. At that time, the Gamble House was in the middle of a face-lift, shrouded in scaffolding. I was pleased to see it refurbished!
Such beautiful detailing and exposing of structural components from the wizards of the A&C Movement.
Also, the landscaping is so pristine and well-manicured. It's very whimsical, but without being over-the-top. Its almost reminiscent of Japanese architecture just without the element of imperfection that they articulate so eloquently over there.
The Greene Bros. built dozens of houses like this one all over Pasadena in the early 20th century. Critics and scholars alike agree that the Gamble House is one of their finest creations.
I really wanted to see the Frank Lloyd Wright textile block house down the street but Sara rushed us back to W. Hollywood because she agreed to shoot a promotional film for one of her Scottish, Kabbalist friends (it seems she has a few of those). I was game since no visit to Hollywood could be considered complete without being in a movie.
Later when the production wrapped, we went out on the town. We wandered the streets finding some very interesting shops and boutiques...
...including this one - a surprisingly classy S&M shop.
We ended up at the Abbey - a bar and restaurant around the block to celebrate St. Patty's Day. I had this great Ahi Tuna Salad and a $12 mojito. Whew! We sat for hours enjoying the company of friends.
Here we have featured Jesse (from Texas), Troy (responsible for Sara's hair extensions), and Patty (an artist - also Scottish) with Sara.
We waltzed home when the sun came up over Santa Monica Blvd. - just like that Sheryl Crow song.
Uh, did I really just quote her? Texas is getting to me.
In the morning we left West Hollywood and journeyed further West to the beach in Venice.
Venice is aptly named for its canals, out-of-context classical colonnades, murals, and its enclave of hippies.
We had brunch and then strolled along the beach, enjoying the outburst of culture.
Ah, sky + mountains + ocean = bliss.
And look - they have Jews there! Real Jews, ones that don't necessarily wear red string around their wrists.
Sara really liked this shot - she says I take photos like an architect.
Okay, this is pretty funny.
Sara decided to do the rings. She would have done very well if Man-with-Metal-Detector hadn't rudely obstructed her.
It probably is one of the best places on the beach to find loose change when you think about it.
Every washroom along the beach had its own character to it. I liked how the light captured the simplicity of this design.
It was a LONG stroll. We walked all the way to Santa Monica, which is just as well considering it would have taken us that much time to find parking.
And no visit to Santa Monica would be complete without a stop by its famous pier.
It was a windy day -
But nothing would deter us from a ride on the mighty Pacific Wheel.
OK, maybe a trip to the potty - where another architect-like photo was snapped amidst the protruding colorful rectilinear forms...
Ferris Wheels are interesting beasts. You wait in line with other people and you talk to them and get to know them and form short-lived relationships with these strangers, only to be separated on a whim and isolated from society for a few minutes of glee, over-stimulation, and sometimes fear. It almost feels like a regurgitation of your entire life (world turning round and round and all) wrapped up in the span of a few minutes.
The Santa Monica pier Ferris wheel is particularly thrilling because of the view...
The height...
and especially the wind.
Whew! Its like being on it all over again.
I love how Sara appears to be more frightened atop a stationary bronze dolphin.
Next on the list of things to do was to visit the Nomadic Museum which is docked adjacent to the pier. My friend Vicki insisted that I see it, and I'm glad that I tend to listen to Vicki when she tells me what to do. The museum is an entirely temporary structure designed by renown architect Shigeru Ban. It is composed of all recycled and reusable materials - for example, its walls are 152 shipping containers. The museum houses Gregory Colbert's exhibition Ashes and Snow.
We were not allowed to take photographs inside so I don't know where these came from, but I was enchanted by the space and how it complimented the artists compelling photographs and films of man interacting with Nature as a spiritual entity.
The exhibit was contained in a space itself that felt spiritual - like a cathedral or beneath a massive canopy of old growth rainforest trees.
I felt like the space was particularly successful by this clear intention considering that it was composed of industrial materials - an incredible juxtaposition.
It was very ethereal - we both felt moved and very contemplative on our long trek back to Venice.
Since I applied to UCLA, it only made sense for me to make a pilgrimage there to check out its school of architecture.
So we scoped it out. I was initially taken by the beautiful campus with its trees and the students who lean against them with their laptops.
We examined the building thoroughly. In the gallery, we found the student's projects which were ultra-conceptual paper architecture designs. It wasn't at all what I'm interested.
Sara gave me a mock lecture in one of the large classrooms, before we found some students in Tom Maine's studio to chat with about how much this program wasn't for me. They said mentioning the word "sustainability" would produce inquisitive looks from their professors as though they've never heard of such a thing.
Still, it was hard not to be captivated by the striking beauty of the UCLA campus.
I had been there once before, actually staying in a dorm there when I was 10 for the International Juggling convention. My mother dragged me to another one of those 5 years later in Vegas for those of you keeping track.
Despite my unease about the potential of moving to LA, and the uncertainty of how well I would fit in at their prestigious university - it sure was an attractive campus, easy to loose sight of the cons.
We then had to race back to Hollywood for a tea date.
A weird thing happened. While we were having tea at Elixir Tea Emporium, it began to hail.
This is very rare in Los Angeles.
What is not rare in Los Angeles is people reading to others their screenplays - which is what Sara did when we arrived back home. We were exhausted and spent the night in. We passed out watching Laurel Canyon. It was such a bad movie that even Francis McDormand couldn't make it entertaining. Hollywood can't always churn out gems. Hopefully, Sara's movie won't have the trouble of totally sucking. In fact I'm sure it won't - I told you to remember the name.
In the morning we arose and made plans to meet her crew for a hike in Runyon Canyon. I expressed a need for sustenance, and Sara suggested we run up the block to The Coffee Bean for a bagel and tea. Because this sounded like an unexciting activity - and for the record, would have been anywhere in America outside of West Hollywood - I neglected to bring my camera...
I will regret this for the rest of my life.
The reason is because in the span of 3 minutes I would be in the presence of not one, not even two, but THREE celebrities!
We walked up the block and crossed the intersection. Pulling out of the parking lot was a vehicle being driven by Laura Dern. I would have missed her entirely if Sara and her keen sense of celebrity whereabouts hadn't shouted out, "Hey look! there's Laura Dern!"
"Shucks," I didn't even bring my camera." Not that I would have gotten all paparazzi on her if I did, but I sure wish the option was possible.
We entered the Coffee Bean and I went up to the counter. I had no idea what I wanted since it had been so long since I had been somewhere for breakfast where the only thing on the menu wasn't breakfast tacos. I ordered an everything bagel with butter, and was quickly corrected - "We call them Combo bagels here," the guy behind the counter explained, wiping away his confusion. I then ordered some hot tea but couldn't decide between the jasmine green and the Moroccan mint.
Suddenly I could sense some unusual anxiety from the guy taking my order. I was taking my time and all, but why had he abruptly demanded that his co-worker jump on the register? There couldn't be that many people behind me in such a short amount of time.
The co-worker leaned against the register while I decided on the Moroccan Mint, and stated, "Ma'am, next in line," repeating herself a number of times because whoever was next was NOT paying attention. I turned around and it occured to me what all the fuss was about.
As she realized her turn to order had come, I took a double take as none other than Paris Hilton stood beside me. She was unquestionably the most grotesque display of humanity I had ever laid my eyes on.
She was wearing: a wife-beater with tattoo print, bright yellow pajama bottoms that wear frayed and dirty at the bottom as though she had been trudging through the mud the night before, matching bright yellow flip flops, and giant, white Christian Dior sunglasses. Her hair was disheveled and she was obviously hung over. Also, where her lower back revealed itself from above the waist line of her pants - it was clear that it was all bruised up. From something...
She ordered a mocha latte, paid the lady, and then stumbled outside where the bathroom was, past her chauffeur standing abreast the black sedan parked in a handicapped space. She remained there for the rest of the time likely inducing vomit or snorting coke or God knows what.
Damn. If only I had my camera! Seriously, I just heard on NPR that a candid shot of Russell Crow seated at a Cafe in Beverly Hills was sold for $2500 to a tabloid. Apparently Sara had taken a few shots of her scowling at me while in line with her camera phone. I'm still waiting on her to figure out how to download those pix!
Anyway, I walked over to the side counter to retrieve my tea. I commented to myself how much the guy at the table beside me eating a muffin sure as hell looked alot like Matthew Perry. And wouldn't you know? In West Hollywood, normal people who look like famous people really are them. He looked good in person.
My tea was sitting beside Paris Hilton's Mocha Latte. In retrospect, I wish to God I would have taken her drink, just to inconvenience her pathetic excuse for an existence. My Moroccan Mint sure did hit the spot, though and we were off to our hike.
Yoga class in the grassy knoll at the entrance to the canyon trail. I wish we had these in San Antonio.
Runyon Canyon was once owned by early Hollywood leading man whose name I can't quite remember but whose fame was comparable to that of Clark Gable and the likes of that era. After some scandals his estate was left to the city, which is great because it is one of the last undeveloped canyons in the south-facing mountains of Los Angeles.
And what fun to share the experience with such a delightful mix of Sara's friends.
It was an amazing hike up to the peak with vistas clear across Los Angeles.
The Hollywood sign! (Little known fact - when I was three, I used to think this was actually in my hometown of Hollywood FLORIDA - where I thought the mountains were are unknown.)
The sky was absent of the thick layer of smog that LA is infamous for that morning. The weather was perfect. The clouds were unbelievable. I was literally on top of the world.
Beyond the grid, you can see the ocean on the right.
I still cannot get over these clouds!
It was a really amazing trip - an action packed LA long weekend complete with all the cliche prophecies manifested into reality. I saw some great architecture and incredible art. I dipped my feet in the Pacific ocean. I partied with the glamorous Hollywood bourgeois. I mingled with a couple of celebrities. I helped produce a film or two. I delighted in reconnecting with an old friend. But most of all, it was refreshing to be proven wrong - that LA ain't so bad when it wants to be.
