Catching up with . . .

At ten fifteen yesterday morning I had expected to board Amtrak's Starlight train for the trip from Los Angeles to San Jose. It was delayed. And so we all sat in Union Station for another hour waiting for our train to pull in. The ten hour trip stretched to twelve as delays continued. I read and napped and walked between the cars. Just behind the dining car, a special car was equipped with floor to ceiling windows and skylights. As the train moved north of Santa Barbara, it began hugging the coast. The ocean stretched out to the west of the train, mountains rose to the east.

As we made our way further and further north, the train turned inland. Farmland and small towns replaced the rugged coast. We passed by San Luis Obispo and Paso Robles. By the time we arrived in Salinas, the moon was rising. It loomed just above the station, a large orange globe. And still we had hours to go.

The night before, my friend P.K. had taken me to the Disney concert hall. Inside, it looked as if at any moment Stravinsky would walk out with Mickey Mouse. Outside, it was beautiful. The grand exterior belies the intimate interior, however. My friend took me on a tour of the environs, pointing out the exterior ampitheatres and the tulip sculpture made of Mrs. Disney's cheap blue china.

We stayed for one song. It was a program of new music. We were late, and after hearing the world premiere of an avante garde piece, we decided to leave. My friend told me that she was spoiled. Having had access to so much music, she told me she no longer feels she has to stay at a show to get her money's worth. Unless she's really into the show at hand, she'll leave after just sampling what the music has to offer.

We drove to Mama Juanas, a salsa club some twenty minutes away. My friend disappeared to change her pants and shoes and I just watched the dance floor. Later, she told me that three of LA's top salsa instructors were at the club. One, Walter, was a former Power Ranger, who had won the latest salsa competition at the Conga Room. She told me that midway through the performance, he dipped his partner and then ran and did a flip over her. His former partner now has a hot choclate drink named after her in Japan. My friend pointed out Alex and told me that he travels the world giving lessons, and then introduced me to Ken, who I didn't have the pleasure to watch dance.

P. introduced me to her circle of salsa friends. One had won a pro/am ballroom competition after she had started dancing at 28. She had never danced before. Not at parties, not at clubs, never. In a corner sat an actor who had been part of the cast of ER. He got up to dance, and then he was gone. By ten it was time to go. P. had to work in the morning and I had to pack.

That day I had done little. I slept late and then SoLe called. I had called her a day or two before to tell her I had returned to L.A. She had been in Vegas all weekend at a bachelorette party, and then Sunday night had attended an all night trance party in the forest. Her car was a mess. She told me she was in Hollywood and I looked at a map. She was just around the corner.

We had lunch in Koreatown. She told me about her family's plans to go to Yosemite that weekend and I devoured my beef noodle soup. She had just had an interview and I asked her about the magazines I had seen in the car. We talked about this and that and then drove around looking for a nice place to have coffee on Melrose, passing the gates to the Paramount Pictures lot.

The latter half of last week was devoted to family. I took the train down to San Diego from Los Angeles on Wednesday to visit a cousin who had just bought a house there. His wife M.L. had just become the weekend anchor for the CBS affiliate there. The house was nice; their dogs were well behaved.

Thursday night we drove back up to L.A. to attend my cousin's rehearsal dinner. M.L. had to work that night and so we were late. The traffic was light, however, and we made good time. We arrived as the final dishes were being served, but our parents had saved us food from each course that had gone by. And so we ate our Chinese banquet out of styrofoam take out containers.

The wedding itself was in a beautiful location, at the Catalina room in Palos Verdes. The area had once been Marineland, the precursor to Sea World, and the parking lot had the look of an abandoned site. The wedding itself was held on a grassy cliff overlooking the Pacific Ocean.

The evening felt as if it was on fast forward. Almost as soon as we arrived the ceremony started. Then it was time for pictures, and then dinner. Dancing was curtailed due to a noise ordinance, and suddenly I was back at my cousin D.F.'s house. She had a full house, hosting four families with six kids ranging in age from one and a half to eight. Each night we stayed up until two or three talking; by seven a.m. we would be up again as the kids raced around the house.

On Saturday, the remaining cousins at D.F.'s house went on a tour of L.A. On Rodeo Drive we stopped in an art gallery where one of the sales reps tried to sell my high school cousin a painting. We had walked in to see a series of Warhols, but an up and coming painter caught D.H.'s eye. The Warhols were edging six figures; the painting D. had his eye on was a much more affordable $1700. After walking the drive, we got the cars out from the only public parking space with valet parking and drove to Hollywood. We stopped at Mann's Theatre and then walked into the Kodak Theatre pavillion where future Oscar ceremonies will take place. The names of all the best picture winners are placed on columns leading up the main walkway. Looking back towards the street, slots are left for films up until 2070. To the right of the theatre is a new mall. We ordered snacks from California Pizza Kitchen and then drove up to Griffith Observatory.

Unfortunately it was closed and under construction. We walked up to a small park just above the parking lot and ate. The sun had set and the lights were coming on across the city. But moments later, we were kicked out. The park closed at dusk. We quickly finished and then walked back to the car, pausing to admire the view.

The wedding weekend over, my cousins one by one left for the airport. Each of their flights were delayed. My friend P.K. picked me up and I bid a final adieu. We drove to Anaheim to walk the new pedestrian mall just outside of Disneyland. On stepping onto the property she asked me if I felt instantly happy; I did a jig. She took me to a House of Blues and we ate boston creme pie and banana bread pudding and sweet potato fries. I had just had a breakfast of pancakes. We ate and then told each other we were going to be sick.

P.K. pointed out that the hotel was built in the craftsman style, a design that had become popular in southern California in the early 1900s. We walked into the lobby to tour the area. It felt like a lodge. We walked up to the fireplace and sat in rockers by the fire until we almost fell asleep. It was dark, the fire was warm; air conditioning cooled the area.

D.R.'s cousins called and told me they were at a jazz concert in Pasadena and so we drove up from Anaheim. It was a part of the Playboy Jazz fest, and while we didn't recognize the name MALT, my friend P. knew the band that started soon after we arrived. They had played various swing clubs, and as that fad waned, they reinvented themselves as a salsa band. T.B. got us into a VIP area, and for the most part we sat in the shade chatting while the music played. Then P. asked me if I wanted to dance. We found a clear patch of ground just inside the VIP area and started salsaing just as the band played their last song. And then it was time to meet up with her cousin.

It was a short visit seeing T. and L.B. I told them I was thinking of moving out here, and they said they were trying to convince their other sisters to come out and visit for the summer. P. exchanged email addresses with them to take them salsa dancing, and then we were back in the car, driving south into LA, the sun setting as the long afternoons that in California never seem to want to end slowly began. Posted by eku at June 3, 2004 2:17 PM