Pedestrian adventures
(That totally should have been the name of this blog.)
It’s strange to look back on the exuberance of my first post; that has dimmed somewhat in the face of the enormity of my imminent task and the enormity of this city. I overheard someone say, laughingly, “Los Angeles is 99% space!” And I thought, Ah, like an atom; and me, but a humble proton…
…and the trajectory of my orbit through empty space is determined, almost wholly, by the bus system(s). (Oh yes, there’s more than one.Thankfully there’s this site to sort it all out.) I will admit that my foolhardly bipedal idealism has taken a hearty knocking—I was so sure I could bend this city to my will (the song says I can make it anywhere, after all), but this town was just not built for people on their own two feet. Or their own two wheels, for that matter—just look at this terrifying bike lane on Jefferson Boulevard!
That’s FOUR lanes of traffic in either direction, and most of the bike lane is really just gutter. I suppose I should be grateful for any bike lane at all…
Thankfully, most of the time the bus takes me to marvelous places with a minimum of aggravation. Like here:
That’s V with a chai in front of India Sweets and Spices, in Culver City, where we bought paneer and masalas and tea and (gasp!) pillsbury pre-made parathas. Astonishing! (Where have these been all my life? And why don’t they show up on the Pillsbury website??) In the course of our adventure, I learned some Hindi: danya wad is thank you, jeera is cumin, and coriander leaf, mystifyingly enough, is…cilantro.
The bus also took me to the DMV to get my CA license (how’s that for irony?), and to Co-Oportunity, the Santa Monica co-op with a fabulous bulk section (why no bulk section in any of your groceries, Westwood, why? Where else is a girl supposed to get cheap granola and chocolate covered ginger snacks?), and to—best of all—the famed Santa Monica Farmer’s Market, where I bought all this bounty:
…I’m still not sure how I got it all home. And you can’t even see the limes or the corn or the purple potatoes in this shot! I mean just check out that Armenian cucumber—how can you pass a thing like that up?
Fewer exclamations and more properly ethnographic observations to share soon, dear reader. Stay tuned.
