Sometimes the Traffic goes to 11

Having moved to LA from cities that have solid public transportation (e.g. San Fran, NYC), it has been a challenge to wrap my head around the fact that the only transportation options in this city are: 
1.  Drive with a high risk of traffic and/or the need to limit myself to one Amstel Light
2.  Extremely expensive cabs
3.  Biking (which is great around the Westside, but of limited use given the endless sprawl of LA)


There is a subway somewhere in this city, but no one I know has ever taken it because the geography doesn't work.  As for why that is, some believe it stems back to a conspiracy by the car companies, their desire to make LA the cradle of automotive culture and a systematic destruction of the city's light rail lines:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/General_Motors_streetcar_conspiracy


Whatever the history, LA's traffic is for real and I learned early on that traffic is a BIG topic of conversation.  Where you go, when you go and, indeed, whether you go at all, are often decided by traffic and the time of day.  Google Maps traffic is a must and it was an eyeopener to learn that their traffic rating can go beyond red.  Like the Spinal Tap amp that goes to 11, Google Maps traffic in LA can go to BLACK.  Which apparently means full stop.  If you do brave the roads, it seems standard upon arrival to discuss the traffic you experienced, detail the route you chose and then debate with others whether it would've been better to take, say, Motor or the Imperial Highway or some other obscure roads that I haven't found yet.    


Given all of the above, the car is an important character in LA.  There is an awesome array of vintage cars and countless exotics like Ferraris and Maseratis (see the counter on the right).  Porsches are so commonplace that it would almost be embarrassing to drive one.  Fear not, however, for the Shiny Grey dynamic exists in carworld too.  By far the most common car in my neighborhood is the Cooper Mini and I typically see 4 or 5 of them within 2 blocks of my house.  And the Mini is, of course, a shiny take on a grey old classic from the 1960s:

And I don't know if this Delorean is shiny or grey or neither, but it is a few blocks from my house.  I wish I knew what the vanity plate meant.  I used the Google on a hunch that the plate was a reference to the # of kilos that Delorean got caught smuggling, but that wasn't right.

Which leads me to the vanity plates.  The Bible, which is chockful of quotable nuggets, reminds us that "All is Vanity".  And when LA's (justified) reputation for vanity meets LA's (justified) reputation for car culture, one finds vanity plates.  Which are disproportionately represented here.  I am lukewarm on vanity plates in general, but at least some can get a chuckle out of me.  The ones that annoy me are those that fall on the tough guy and/or self-aggrandizing part of the spectrum.  I haven't seen many clever ones yet.  A smattering of what I've seen so far:
M2 FAST 4U (white BMW, I think M series)
SHOE GIRL  (Mini)
SEXY FIT (Mini) 
GD HANS (BMW)
LIL EAGL (Porsche)
985BHJKK  (Ford)


P.S.  Of course, the time may come when I too get a vanity plate.  Because what could be a better than a pimped out brown and yellow 70s El Camino with a plate that says FNGRBNGNG?


UPDATE.
Ari Pomerantz nailed it.  As did Bo in the comments.

Christmas Tree

I can't decide if this shopping cart Christmas tree is social commentary or not. I'd like to think so, in which case I'd be impressed. But it IS in the outdoor area of a Peets coffee, so I have my doubts. Anyway. Happy holidays to all. May they be about more than shopping.

Harvest Moon

In more ways than one, San Francisco is a sausage town. And on paper, the Haight St combination of the Rosamunde Sausage Grill and the impressive beer selection at Toronado next door sounds like a winner. Sure, Toronado is down and dirty, but sawdusted floors can be charming as long as the vibe is good. Sadly, that’s not the case. The bartenders there are impatient jerks and any questions about their esoteric beer options are with annoyance and/or condescension. Which, for me, voids the experience and made it something I only did a few times when I lived there.

Now let's jump to Wurstkuche, self-described “purveyors of exotic sausages” in Venice.
http://www.wurstkuche.com/Menu.html
The line forms outside and filters into a gleaming, perhaps too bright, tile foyer where you start with a pleasant informational conversation with the guy pulling beers. Then you take your Spaten or Erdinger Dunkelweizen or Franziskaner and slide down the counter to the sausage section. The brats can get exotic here and I settled on the rattlesnake and rabbit with jalapeno peppers. And a side of double dipped fries (whatever that means) with curry ketchup.


I paid and scurried out of the brightness into a winding corridor where the darkness dropped like a cloud and a reddish glow led me to a lounge area in the back with communal tables and a DJ dropping cool, chilled out electronic music.

As for the shiny grey, it came courtesy of the DJ. In my mind, few things are more evocative of the 1970s than Neil Young. And this remix by Poolside (an LA music producer self-described as: "daytime disco") puts a shiny LA twist on it:


While I am on the subject of food, I have noticed that everyone in LA is on some sort of workout regimen, specialty diet or, as you get closer to Hollywood, surgical enhancement.  Austin is working the primal diet. All animal fat and vegetables and whatever else our Cro Magnon ancestors would shove into their partially evolved gullets.  (Note his bunless order in the pic.)  I have a feeling that the longer I live here, the more diet schemes I will learn about. In fact, just yesterday I heard about Olaf the Breatharian, who claims to get his sustenance requirements from the air. But that's a whole other topic.

Austin... "all burger and no bun"

Hey Yoga Girl....

Given that traffic is a primary character in this town, neighborhood selection is vital.  I knew I wanted to live on the Westside (the beach towns) but not much more than that.  Online searches were pretty meager, since not a lot of places were dog friendly.  When I found a spot that sounded decent, Austin was kind enough to check out it for me and I took it, sight unseen.

So far, I am loving the neighborhood.  It's beachy and chill, but there are still pockets of cool urbanity.  Plus I get to see the ocean every day, which makes me real happy.

This video, which is all shot within 3 blocks of my place, gives a solid (and funny) overview of my corner of Santa Monica.

And yeah, I took Vinnie's class.  Not even on purpose.

Drive West on Sunset, To the Sea

When I moved from NYC to San Francisco, I didn't really know the differences between NorCal and SoCal or much of anything at all about California. I knew friends had moved to Cali (both North and South) and enjoyed it, I knew it enjoyed an almost mythic place in the American experience and I knew I wanted to find a lifestyle with less urban focus than the one I had in NYC.

And so I ended up San Francisco and really liked it. And I listened to people make fun of LA, its denizens and its vibe and I assumed that LA wasn't for me either. But with each trip to Venice and Santa Monica, I began to wonder. After all, I had spent months of my life traveling around the world looking for warm, beautiful beaches to post up in... why wouldn't I want to LIVE in similar place? And I found the people living on the West side to be extremely warm and friendly, just like I've found in beach towns anywhere.

In December 2011, I made the move. And since people have been asking me "What's it like?" and "Do you like it?", I figured I would put words to blog to lay it all out. One thing is certain: the differences between SF and LA are massive. At times, it's hard to believe they are in the same country, let alone the same state.

As for the title of this first post, thank Steely Dan.  (Which, incidentally, is also a reference to something shiny and grey.)