World Series, Volume 2: My Own Backyard
Recently inspired by this month's letter from the editor of Los Angeles magazine, I've decided that it's time to truly explore my greater city.
I have known for a long time that I was born to be an explorer of the world. It began with long days of playing Rainforest beneath the backyard sprinkler, naming our most dependably recurring flowers and blending concoctions of pollen and au natural aloe-vera jelly in ivy leaf petri dishes. It continued on trips to Grandma's "mountain house" in Frazier Park, CA - where we'd take walks in search of craft-worthy pine cones bigger than our hands, and cousin Nick and I would set out sledding between the icy backyards, gone long enough to worry my usually laissez-faire Gramz. The childhood strand of my travel bug peaked when Mom and I jetted off to France and Germany for cousins Greg and Elvie's 1996 nuptials... in which I side-starred as the all-American flower girl. Mom and I fed the birds outside Versailles, took photos in the street adjacent to Le Arc de Triomphe, and hiked, Metroed and Eurostarred enough for me to have a great big taste of window-framed wanderlust.
The first trip upon which I remember writing is a camping trip we took at Refugio State Beach in Santa Barbara, CA. While the family friends' kids played whiffle ball on the asphalt near our site or climbed the trees from which our sandy beach towels hung post-25-cent-showers, I distinctly recall myself perched atop a grassy tree stump that stood just inside the front corner of our camp site. I thought it would be the perfect, meditative spot to observe the day ahead of and behind that moment, and hand-write in my yellow and purple journal - which I'm certain I picked out at the monthly Scholastic book fair that would travel to Manzanita elementary school. Do I remember WHAT I wrote about? Not really. But reading that journal time and time again years later, I could envision that moment perfectly. Somehow, even as a kid, I took the time to reflect... in order to taste life twice.
Most of my current readers - all eight or so of you - know the remainder of my traveler's treasure map. It went from CA and a little of the east coast back to Europe (England, then France) when I was 17. College hit, and then I ventured the farthest I had from LA: to Sydney, to visit my best and favorite college friend (Jill) during her semester abroad. In the same summer and only a week after my return, I traversed the most of Europe I ever had in one visit: London, Paris, Prague, Rome, and Madrid for a communication studies program followed by an independent jaunt to see another friend (Lilly), this one from college AND high school. Things got more diverse as my early twenties spanned: summer of 2010 was Singapore for two weeks, and summer 2011 was Hong Kong (and a bit of China) for nine. I had the generous opportunity from University of Southern California to see, learn and network in four major European cities as purely a sophomore; then, it was off to the three most prominent and economically progressive cities in Asia all before I graduated. I couldn't be more grateful for what is now much more than a travel "bug" -- think incurable condition that my soul hopes won't be fatal.
The purpose of this recap was not to envision the next far-off Xs on my map; those will come, I'm sure. It was, instead, to recall some of the common experiences and patterns that surfaced along all of these diverse travels... such as new languages, tastes and flavors found in an only-once-in-a-lifetime kind of restaurant, and one-night-long friendships or love affairs that took place outside cobblestone coffee shops. I had a realization a few years back, while living in Beverly Hills-adjacent and focused on paying off my travel-induced student loan debt and credit cards. It was this: those three romantic examples I mentioned above? Those are equally as possible, likely-to-happen and enchanting on a weekday evening between the streets of LA as they are around the world.
That's right: it turns out that I am cut out to be an explorer of the world even while confined to the county lines of my current workplace and residence. Just because I'm not jet-setting to a foreign country this month doesn't mean that I can't seek out new experiences with a constant hunger permeating from all of my senses. It also doesn't mean that I have nothing to write about. Just look at my SUNday fun-day yesterday:
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Sunday, February 16th
Brunch on the main thoroughfare of Atwater Village, at a quaint local cafe called the Village Bakery. Fountains, rainbows and pedal boats in Echo Park Lake for the first time, with the three best friends who have been in LA along with me for the past [going on] seven years. And the Saturday night preceding: Live music and a moonlit patio in Pasadena after my 25th birthday dinner, at an artisan pub called King's Row... which we had never entered (despite three prior years of holding my annual b-day dinner bash at the exact same restaurant nearby).
As the editor's letter asserted: LA is a never-ending land of countless gems yet to be uncovered and stones so far unturned. After leaving home for college at 18, I was content while confined to campus in downtown for four years, exposed to a fraction of Downtown LA and a minuscule taste of Santa Monica. Since graduating, we've dug deeper into West Hollywood and explored the neighborhoods of our closest friends (including but not limited to Toluca Lake, Mid City, Venice, and a few more). However, the adventures to be had are still numerous; my go-to fellow adventurers and I have barely scratched the surface. So, as I continue through 2014 and head-first into the glorious age of 25, I will commit myself to exploring every street, neighborhood and side of LA that I can fit into my days while I'm still young, still here...
and still can, with nothing and no one holding me back.
I have known for a long time that I was born to be an explorer of the world. It began with long days of playing Rainforest beneath the backyard sprinkler, naming our most dependably recurring flowers and blending concoctions of pollen and au natural aloe-vera jelly in ivy leaf petri dishes. It continued on trips to Grandma's "mountain house" in Frazier Park, CA - where we'd take walks in search of craft-worthy pine cones bigger than our hands, and cousin Nick and I would set out sledding between the icy backyards, gone long enough to worry my usually laissez-faire Gramz. The childhood strand of my travel bug peaked when Mom and I jetted off to France and Germany for cousins Greg and Elvie's 1996 nuptials... in which I side-starred as the all-American flower girl. Mom and I fed the birds outside Versailles, took photos in the street adjacent to Le Arc de Triomphe, and hiked, Metroed and Eurostarred enough for me to have a great big taste of window-framed wanderlust.
Me and Mom at the Louvre, ten years later
The first trip upon which I remember writing is a camping trip we took at Refugio State Beach in Santa Barbara, CA. While the family friends' kids played whiffle ball on the asphalt near our site or climbed the trees from which our sandy beach towels hung post-25-cent-showers, I distinctly recall myself perched atop a grassy tree stump that stood just inside the front corner of our camp site. I thought it would be the perfect, meditative spot to observe the day ahead of and behind that moment, and hand-write in my yellow and purple journal - which I'm certain I picked out at the monthly Scholastic book fair that would travel to Manzanita elementary school. Do I remember WHAT I wrote about? Not really. But reading that journal time and time again years later, I could envision that moment perfectly. Somehow, even as a kid, I took the time to reflect... in order to taste life twice.
Most of my current readers - all eight or so of you - know the remainder of my traveler's treasure map. It went from CA and a little of the east coast back to Europe (England, then France) when I was 17. College hit, and then I ventured the farthest I had from LA: to Sydney, to visit my best and favorite college friend (Jill) during her semester abroad. In the same summer and only a week after my return, I traversed the most of Europe I ever had in one visit: London, Paris, Prague, Rome, and Madrid for a communication studies program followed by an independent jaunt to see another friend (Lilly), this one from college AND high school. Things got more diverse as my early twenties spanned: summer of 2010 was Singapore for two weeks, and summer 2011 was Hong Kong (and a bit of China) for nine. I had the generous opportunity from University of Southern California to see, learn and network in four major European cities as purely a sophomore; then, it was off to the three most prominent and economically progressive cities in Asia all before I graduated. I couldn't be more grateful for what is now much more than a travel "bug" -- think incurable condition that my soul hopes won't be fatal.
The purpose of this recap was not to envision the next far-off Xs on my map; those will come, I'm sure. It was, instead, to recall some of the common experiences and patterns that surfaced along all of these diverse travels... such as new languages, tastes and flavors found in an only-once-in-a-lifetime kind of restaurant, and one-night-long friendships or love affairs that took place outside cobblestone coffee shops. I had a realization a few years back, while living in Beverly Hills-adjacent and focused on paying off my travel-induced student loan debt and credit cards. It was this: those three romantic examples I mentioned above? Those are equally as possible, likely-to-happen and enchanting on a weekday evening between the streets of LA as they are around the world.
That's right: it turns out that I am cut out to be an explorer of the world even while confined to the county lines of my current workplace and residence. Just because I'm not jet-setting to a foreign country this month doesn't mean that I can't seek out new experiences with a constant hunger permeating from all of my senses. It also doesn't mean that I have nothing to write about. Just look at my SUNday fun-day yesterday:
Sunday, February 16th
Brunch on the main thoroughfare of Atwater Village, at a quaint local cafe called the Village Bakery. Fountains, rainbows and pedal boats in Echo Park Lake for the first time, with the three best friends who have been in LA along with me for the past [going on] seven years. And the Saturday night preceding: Live music and a moonlit patio in Pasadena after my 25th birthday dinner, at an artisan pub called King's Row... which we had never entered (despite three prior years of holding my annual b-day dinner bash at the exact same restaurant nearby).
As the editor's letter asserted: LA is a never-ending land of countless gems yet to be uncovered and stones so far unturned. After leaving home for college at 18, I was content while confined to campus in downtown for four years, exposed to a fraction of Downtown LA and a minuscule taste of Santa Monica. Since graduating, we've dug deeper into West Hollywood and explored the neighborhoods of our closest friends (including but not limited to Toluca Lake, Mid City, Venice, and a few more). However, the adventures to be had are still numerous; my go-to fellow adventurers and I have barely scratched the surface. So, as I continue through 2014 and head-first into the glorious age of 25, I will commit myself to exploring every street, neighborhood and side of LA that I can fit into my days while I'm still young, still here...
and still can, with nothing and no one holding me back.
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