Day 10 - The City of Angels

Ten days between blogs? Shocking oversight. Shame on me.

How do you compare two cities like San Francisco and Los Angeles? Well, let me give it a whirl.

First things first; context. The missus and I arrived in San Fran greener than a leprechauns' underpants. To the hardened traveller we probably looked as out of place as Mormons in a strip club. We knew no-one. We did the tourist things, like Alcatraz (cool, but one dimensional), biking the Golden Gate (brill but lots of hills) and getting fleeced by a Napolitean restaurant in North Beach.

San Fran is a seriously cool city. Its all impossibly steep streets, buildings with more character than Alec Guiness' resume and dingy little bars that positively order you to write poetry about showgirls and absinthe. It's also chockers with homeless people. Some are friendly, others crazy. We chatted to Jason one night about why he was writing Bruce Springsteen lyrics on the road. Still not entirely sure why.

I've heard it compared to Sydney. I don't see it. It's more like Melbourne with a huge bay. Like Melbourne, it's also a city that feels like the best bits are just out of reach. It's a city for living in, not visiting.

So, we drove down to LA. Along the way, we saw many faces of California. Huge sweeping cliffs. Low slung and windswept beaches, inhabited by elephant seals the size of your car. Redwood forests hiding Bigfoot, maybe. Then, two days and the best meal of the trip so far, we entered the Worlds' Entertainment Center. The city of freeways. LA.

LA is big. Seriously big. It sprawls across the land like a roman orgy. It not pretty or organized. Don't even consider not owning a car here. It's like someone took the idea for a city, plonked it in the middle of the desert and then flattened it out with a giant spatula.

And the contradictions! Fast food joints line the road in every less fortunate neighbourhood (no wonder obesity is a problem when the only viable economic option for so many is processed junk), whilst the opulence of Beverly Hills and Bel Air is astouding for both the scale and frequency. There is some serious cash in this town. Make it here and you've made it everywhere.

By any measure LA should be a vile pimple on the bum of humanity. But it's not.

Standing in the Hollywood Hills, staring into the haze below, I realized there's "something" about LA. The weather is always perfect. Amongst the landfill of broken dreams there are plenty that came true. It's full of some very cool, kind and damned talentedcreativecleversmart people. Sure, it's showy and everyone is a little too self aware. However, for all the new age hocus pocus, I think I get it.

Sat in the park, joining in the free yoga class, I came to the conclusion that LA is about "being". Be whatever you want. Be all you can be. You might not get there, but at least you aimed for the stars. I like that attitude. It sure beats tall poppy.

Then again, it may something to do with the company. As well as my esteemed travel companion, we've stayed at the (amazing) home of two of the most generous people you'll find. Ian and Samuel have been kinder than we have any right to expect. It's always more enjoyable to experience a city in the company of people who know it well. Even moreso when they are a pair of solid gold Rockstars.

Maybe one city really is better than the other. Who cares? Like the Melbourne vs Sydney debate, it's pointless. Let me instead just summarize it this way; we're off to a flier :)

Click here for LA photos