the significance of that weekend in texas

Six months ago, I took my last 501 work trip to Corpus Christi (and later, Austin). I spent the first humid morning exploring by foot. I realized I recognized the small Texan city from having passed through more than ten years prior, on a spring break trip that most definitely reflected my age at that time (17). So much had changed since. I imagine I would've had the same enthusiasm to stop by Selena's memorial though. I was transported to singing along to her cassette tape in my dad's car, my mom explaining to me, months later, why he'd come home from work so upset. I recalled how special it'd been when we to dinner and to see Jennifer Lopez's debut.

I'd flown to Corpus Christi to supervise an event a new colleague was running. All went well. The following morning, we drove to Austin. I strolled from my Airbnb to another Austin-based colleague's home. We ended up on Rainey Street, others met us, and before long we were on a day-drinking adventure. I admired the easy, laid back approach to strong cocktails and good conversation, local beer and live music. It'd been awhile. I felt fortunate. I thought back to my road trip, when I'd just barely driven through.

On that last day in Texas, I traversed the entire city, UT Austin and the original Whole Foods included. I paused only for a Skype interview with an Executive Director, that has become my boss. Then I called my mom to join in my inspired excitement. What an opportunity! One that's moved me from Los Angeles to San Francisco, the California town I've seemingly always hoped to belong to.

So here I am, approaching 30, writing from the first city I've deliberately chosen as my own. It's amazing to reflect on just how much has been lived in the past decade+. Most worthwhile experiences have been documented on this blog; others, reserved for conversations with my closest confidantes, many of whom are still scattered around the world. And all the while an SF routine is in the making. Starting a new job, establishing new relationships, and creating a whole new branch of life is no less challenging simply because it's been done before. Thanks for bearing with me as I've come to acknowledge such wisdom. We'll be traveling again soon.

the unresolved parisienne

There's so much to be said about this country, and this world right now... I fear words fall short. My hodge-podge of sentiments—anxiety, concern, exhilaration—is too intimidating to capture. Instagram feels more appropriate in its visual short form. As such, please excuse the self-declared banality of my reflection below. It errs on the personal side of Heather Havrilesky's words (via Ask Polly): "If you can’t own the life you have right now, ask yourself what needs to change to make you feel like more of a conquistador."

On November 17th, 2016, I landed in Paris. It was dark and chilly as I commuted from CDG to an Airbnb a mere three blocks from where I'd once lived. The route itself was jarring in its familiarity. I affectionately recognized the corner brasserie, and neo-bistro, and all the other shops and bars (save for a few that were obviously new). I WhatsApp-ed Lorelei, "I don't know how you do this regularly. I want to relive every moment of life here, on repeat times a million, plus more memories." And then, after settling into my Airbnb, I texted Ben, "the apartment has high ceilings and antique furniture and my host is an older impatient woman who offered me fruit upon arrival, so I basically feel like France welcomed me back with open arms." I wasn't kidding. It felt painfully good to be back, again.

The following morning, I woke up relatively early. I Facebooked Deanna to make plans: petit-déj at a café across from a metro stop on his line so she wouldn't get lost, we'd figure out the next steps from there, Rémi would meet up with us after class. Some context: my sister is (quite ironically!) dating a French guy she met over the summer in New York; she has visited him (and Paris) twice since.

We wandered through the Latin Quarter across the Seine and into the Marais, stopping into clothing stores we couldn't afford, a free exhibition at the Swedish Institute, and a worth-every-penny visit to the recently-renovated Musée Picaso. Then we lunched with Rémi at our beloved Nanashi before dragging him into Merci—at which he was the only consumer. They (being too cute) caught the bus home at Bastille while I returned to the 17th to freshen up. Later, I ventured outside the city to join Mia at a Salif Keita concert.

Those first 36 hours were too easy, too normal... it was hard to believe I'd ever voluntarily left! And then, before traveling to Amsterdam, I brunched with Lou at Rose Café. In her thoughtful way, she reminded me of my critiques: the cultural superiority, the unyielding otherness, the callous social capital bred from famous haute-couture fashion houses and the like. Paris, too, has an ego.

A week later, I saw Lou once more whilst staying in Melun with ma famille française. I also arranged plans with Melissa, and Rithy, and Julia, and my AUP professors on campus. We spoke about politics and ideals, life and love, ambition and responsibility. I was so perfectly inspired. I found myself overcome by immense gratitude as opposed to tragic-nostalgia. Every moment was to be savored, so I did exactly that. And I was actually ready to fly back to Los Angeles when the time came—even with its infuriating civic passivity, empty "nice days", select inhabitants trying so goddamn hard to be seen as cool, laid back, and creative in unacknowledged privilege. As my sister reminded me today (from Paris, I might add!): But don't you know that only fools are satisfied?

sunny los angeles

But nothing beats the weather, eh?

L.A., nice weather, most of the time, sure. But I am beyond tired of talking about it. Honestly, I'd prefer more rain (not just because of the drought); and, my gosh, I dream of a legitimate wintery chill. Basically, I miss the rejuvenating nature of seasons. Pun intended. What's more, I balk at the implication that clear sunshine is Los Angeles' most redeeming quality. It's dreary today, for the record.

{The Last Bookstore, for instance}

A friend of mine from the Midwest once told me he reveled in the misguided disdain that tries to characterize this city. What he meant, I think, is that it's a pretty incredible privilege to have gotten to know a place so quickly misunderstood. Los Angeles is not easily defined, neither literally nor figuratively, and it's sure as hell challenging to get a ahold of. This whole nother beast might as well be our beautiful little secret.

Before my time in New York, I saw City of Gold. It was fantastic for all the reasons above; and because, in telling Jonathan Gold's story, it celebrated the democratization of food criticism as well as the pure wealth of "culinary adventure that, he argues, are unique to the area in their proximity and commingled global influences." It reminded me of how much I appreciate L.A. for being L.A. And with that, I give you an introductory guide I created for a colleague who recently relocated to establish our DTLA office...

DINE
Best group meal: Korean BBQ (Koreatown)
Eat more ramen: Mitsuwa Marketplace (Mar Vista) or Jinya Ramen Bar (Mid-Wilshire & other locations)
Local date spots: Barbrix (Silver Lake), Cliff’s Edge (Silver Lake), Little Dom’s (Los Feliz)
My favorite “L.A. restaurant”: Eveleigh (West Hollywood)
Restaurants worth the hype: Birch Restaurant (Hollywood), Bestia (Arts District), Faith & Flower (DTLA), Pok Pok LA (Chinatown), République (Mid-City/La Brea), Sugarfish (multiple locations)
Tacos, part 1: Guisados (Echo Park); Tacos, part 2.
The best in Mexican-American burritos: Al & Bea’s (Boyle Heights)
Try the original French-dip sandwich at: Cole’s (DTLA) or Phillipe’s (Chinatown)
P.S. If you go to Cole’s, consider the speakeasy in the back with great cocktails and live jazz
For your bf: pancakes.

DRINK
Best hipster cocktails: Tenant of the Trees (Silver Lake)
Best beer & wine in the neighborhood: El Prado (Echo Park) / 1642 Beer and Wine (HiFi)
Best rooftop bar: Mama Shelter (Hollywood)
Drink beer and play board games: Sunset Beer Company (Echo Park)
Drink beer and play arcade games: Eighty Two (Arts District)
Get to know tequila & mezcal: El Carmen (Mid-City) or La Cuevita (Highland Park)
Have a martini at an “Old Hollywood” bar: Bar Marmont, Formosa Cafe, Musso & Frank Grill
Priceless DTLA views (& pricey cocktails): the Ace Hotel and Perch
Stay caffeinated.

HIKE
Elysian Park: West Loop, Angels Point
Griffith Park: Ferndell Trail, Mount Lee Trail, etc.
Malibu: Tuna Canyon,Corral Canyon, etc.

DO
Add to your library with gems from our neighborhood bookshop: Stories & Books Café (and Skylight!)
Best view of L.A. on the East Side: The Griffith Observatory
Best view of L.A. on the West Side: The Getty Center
Bike in Santa Monica; and in Long Beach
Check out local live music: The Echo and Echoplex
Go to a cheap comedy show: Upright Citizens Brigade
Museums worth the drive: The Autry (Griffith Park), LACMA (Mid-City/Miracle Mile), Natural History Museum (South L.A.), Petersen Automotive Museum (Mid-City/Miracle Mile), The Getty Villa (Malibu)
Pick your beach. My favorites: Cabrillo Beach (San Pedro), El Matador (Malibu), Manhattan Beach
Rent a boat or go paddleboarding: Marina Del Rey
Reserve free tickets: The Broad (DTLA)
Shop at the best farmers markets:

Monday-Thursday: The Original Farmers Market

Friday: Echo Park Farmers Market

Sunday: Atwater Village Farmers Market

Stroll the Venice Beach Boardwalk (because, weird) and dine at Gjusta ($) and/or Gjelina ($$)
Spend an afternoon in Pasadena: Huntington Library & Gardens, Norton Simon Museum, Magnolia House
Walk/shop on the East Side: Los Feliz, Silver Lake, Highland Park
SaveSave

a new york holiday

{The Rad Trads}

“And now let us believe in a long year that is given to us, new, untouched, full of things that have never been, full of work that has never been done, full of tasks, claims, and demands; and let us see that we learn to take it without letting fall too much of what it has to bestow upon those who demand of it necessary, serious, and great things.” --Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters of Rainer Maria Rilke, 1892-1910

whatta snob

You know what gets to me? The distinction between high and low culture. The former tends to be accessible to (and acceptable for) a select few, those who can afford it with either education or wealth. I don't like it. This may stem from the fact that I happen to very much enjoy museums, literature, theater, poetry, classical music, wine, and haute cuisine, and understand such tastes do not bring about superiority. I also appreciate street art and dive bars. As such, one of my favorite things about Paris is the frequency with which exhibitions and performances are advertised around the city, right alongside posters for blockbuster movies and popular concerts. I pointed it out to Leslie to support my 'blurred line' theory. Culture instinctively adopts a more democratic spectrum.

Stumbling across photography exhibitions in parks like the Palais-Royal (or any public space, really) doesn't hurt the cause either. Nor does knowing the loveliest opera singer and classical harpist. They both work with a chamber music organization and invited me to an affordable Cocktails and Conversations recital a few weeks ago. The spectacular combination alone secured my RSVP, ha.

The performances by musicians from around the world was phenomenal. As was the space itself. Marissa just reminded me how much I'd like to return to the Finnish Institute for coffee actually. The caffeine would support thesis dedication and enjoyment of my limited-time-only 'under 26' status a.k.a. free/discounted entrance to most cultural venues. Je ne suis pas snob (<--too funny).

ten thousand hours

I've mastered very few skills in my life thus far. The "problem": my darling parents gave me the opportunity to try lots of things, so I did a bit of everything. I played piano, softball, and field hockey. I attended art camps, writing classes, and dance rehearsals. I sang in the chorus and performed in school plays. I was active in VIF (Valhalla International Fund) and Spanish club. Oh, and I was a Girl Scout, until the age of 18. Because of those many extracurricular activities though, I never had a chance to focus on any one in particular. I'm mostly okay with that. It set the stage, so to speak, for a dynamic interest set (and made for an entertaining yearbook biography). Yet it's also left me in complete awe of those who have dedicated years to becoming one of the best at... something.

Like, Macklemore, for instance. He's positively amazing in concert. I know this because I saw him and Ryan Lewis perfom live at Le Zénith two weekends ago, just strides away from the lawn I practiced yoga on this past summer. They opened with "Ten Thousand Hours." Please enjoy it as much as we obviously did. And forgive me for the obnoxious howling :). Consider it proof of a great time?

Lara, Tatenda, and I spent four hours on a Sunday night dancing like crazies and singing our little hearts out. Still, it's worth noting that I was most impressed by the content of Macklemore and Ryan Lewis' music--real issues and tangible opinions. Take "Ten Thousand Hours": inspired by Malcolm Gladwell's Outliers. (Random fun fact: I quickly skimmed through it on a Boston trip 3 years ago). Within it, he attributes roughly 10,000 hours of practice as the key to any success. "Achievement is talent plus preparation.” It may not always be applicable, but if that's what it took for Macklemore and Ryan Lewis to produce The Heist, it definitely works.

So, it's extra incredible how long my cousins have been practicing. They've spent their entire lives cultivating their creative talent. Recently, they released their collaborative passion project, "Humble Beginnings", and I couldn't be more proud of nor impressed with Dylan and Bianca Golden. Way to go, familia! Share it with your network, stp? They deserve all the success in the world.

As for me, I don't mind being a "grown-up" with an appreciation for yellow bouncy balls for now ;). Mastery in _________ to come.