Monday night, after our bike ride and after a little recuperative nap back at the hotel, we met my cousins again (couldn't get enough of them) at a Mexican restaurant in the Echo Park section, just west of the center city. I was getting the hang of the city now and its various neighborhoods and could, with the help of Mapquest, get about anywhere without a hitch.
As in New York, I prefer the streets to the highway. And it's not about getting somewhere quick (which is not very easy in L.A. anyway, what with the jammed freeways). It's about seeing neighborhoods, which is my favorite preoccupation when travelling. How else to really know a city? The beauty part of L.A? Like it's east coast counterpart, Los Angeles has neighborhoods in spades and they vary widely. But colorful and diverse for sure and that's the impression of L.A. that I will take back home with me.
The restaurant, Barrigan's (pronounce it with a Spanish accent: barrrr - ee - GAN') was very good, inexpensive. I had cocido, which I've never heard of before, a bathtub-sized bowl of chicken soup filled with corn (on the cob), carrots, cilantro, beef ribs. ¡Marivillosa! Lynn and Mike were tired and stay home so Stacey and I joined Carol, Susan, Muriel and Ken at the restaurant. After dinner, we sat around the long oval table and talked the night away until the restaurant closed and we were embarrassed into finally leaving. By the way, most restaurants close around 11 in L.A. For the most part, this is not a late-night city like New York.
.....
The next day, Tuesday, the kids had to get back to work, so Stacey, nursing a cold, and I just took took it easy. We started the day with a visit to an old Los Angeles institution, The Original Pantry. It's now owned by former Mayor, the Replublican power-broker, Richard J. Riordan. The place is a no-frills, breakfast and lunch diner-style restaurant where the local politicos hold court on any given day. It's a cash only, good and honest breakfast joint that's famous for quantity rather than quality.
Politicians and power brokers start their day here on Figueroa and Ninth.
Old trolleys on the wall at the Original Pantry.
The Original Pantry - an L.A. institution since 1924.
After breakfast, Stacey and I drove up Sunset Boulevard form one end to the other. We took detours to see the estates above the Strip in Hollywood and Beverly Hills. But first I made a detour to retrace part of our bike trip where I had neglected to take some photos. This was Rossmore Street, a north-south road that had some stunning, old deco apartments and houses along its path.
Beautiful old apartments on Rossmore Street in Hollywood.
Entrance to the El Royale apartments on Rossmore.
One after another, old gems on Rossmore.
Just grand! Who built these? When were they built? Who lived there over the years?
Our next stop was to take a look at ultra-posh Rodeo Drive. The northern end of it is residential and is lined with lovely houses (again) and spectacular old trees. South of Santa Monica Boulevard is the famous shopping-land of the rich and famous. I found this dull and unexciting (and unaffordable for the "rest" of us). Mostly a collection of flagship showoff stores for the famous names in uber-fashion. Beautifully presented. Boring.
Fabulous trees line the residential section of Rodeo Drive.
Stacey, admiring the homes on Rodeo.
We were racing the clock now. We were to meet my cousins' mom, Mildred at her home on Fairfax at 5 o'clock. It was already 4:30 and we were in Santa Monica to take one last look at its beach, ocean walk, pier and pedestrianized 3rd street mall. We would have to contend with rush hour traffic to make it back to Mildred's place. So we stuck a couple of quarters in the parking meter and set off on foot for a 15 minute go-round which left us wanting more of Santa Monica. We'd have to save it for the next trip out west.
The beautiful walk on the Pacific at Santa Monica.
The Georgian Hotel on the shore in Santa Monica.
Thrown out on the mean streets. Here is Bush's Compassionate Conservatism in real life.
Despite the traffic we reached Miltdre's place just a few minutes after five. Muriel and her mom greeted us at the door of this senior residence. Mildred was thrilled to meet us and were we to meet her. As I wrote earlier, Maxie (my dad's first cousin and close boyhood buddy) and Mildred moved to California in 1949 and then the families lost touch. We've only recently rediscovered each other. But Mildred was enthusiastic and eager to know all about us and the rest of our family. I dutifully filled her in and thoroughly enjoyed spending time with her and finally meeting this woman of whom I had heard so much albeit through the filter of great distances and many years.
Matt and Mildred - we'd never met before but it felt like old times.
Muriel, Stacey and Mildred ... New found family.
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