BIG CARS, SMALL DOGS
Sunday 20th January, 2008
I await Toby below at Joel's building, eyes peeled for the distinctive grille of the CM coming up Sunset, as Tobes and I have been invited to Charlotte's for brunch.
The sky is brilliant, and I am chatting away in Spanish to the doorman, who remarks upoon the Castilian twist to my pronunciation.
I am flattered.
At least there is a twist.
There is a steady procession of big cars (4x4s, but only the big ones-Escalades, Land Rovers, Porsche Cayennes, Volvos) into which step an equally steady stream of big sunglassed 50-something big haired women.
"Hi, I yam Nicole Feldman, how are yah?" says one.
Transplanted New Yorkers, only tanned.
There are three of them accompanied by little dogs.
You know the kind I mean....really little. A good sized boot laid along the back would pretty much go from head to tail.
One comes up to me and seems to considering whether or not to use my leg as a lamppost. He's named Jock....a little Scotty. How do I know?
"Oh, Jock.", says the women.
No apologies or even acknowledgement of the owner of the leg/lampost.
She has dressed him in both a little earmuff warmer and a fetching little gilet, both in a green and red tartan. It is 50 degrees for chrissakes. You want cold?
Knock off the zero and see if the little thing could fly across the Grand Canyon in that bitter air, I think uncharitably.
I am saved from these murderous thoughts by Tobes, who drives up majestically in the CM. I'd take that over an Escalade any day.
Yes, I think I would have trouble with the LA scene, but no matter.
Tobes is in fine form.
He went out to some rathole club with his housemates.
Probably not going to do that too often (not his scene and also expensive), but he is already sampling the sights.
We arrive at Miles and Charlotte's where she has laid out a table outside with a log fire, and is in the midst of whisking eggs whites for unbelievably light waffles, fresh pear compote, fresh fruit, fresh squeezed OJ, fresh coffee....you catch my drift? I play with the kids. Juliette is very smart and mature for a five year old.
Miles has some terrific songs from a Melanesian choir who sang in The Thin Red Line.
We have a sumptuous breakfast outside in the middle of January, and suddenly LA is looking more attractive again.
After breakfast Tobes and I decide to go to Venice Beach.
As it happens, mapless, we actually go to Santa Monica, where there is all sorts of activity; a huge ultimate frisbee tournament, volleyball, biking, rollerblading, outdoor gymnastics (some incredibly muscled Chinese guy is swinging and twisting on the rings with one arm, which no doubt would have twisted mine cleanly off at the shoulder.)
We rent bikes for an hour and pedal up and down the beach.
Then we go to yet another pedestrian street where there are street performers, including a Mexican three cup and ball guy who was brilliant at both sleight of hand and banter.
To wit:
"Here we have two up and one down..
PAUSE ..just like prison..
PAUSE..no I never really was in prison...
PAUSE.....the charges were dropped....
All with exquisite timing.
He picks people out of the crowd and then gently deals on them. We escape.
Everyone is pleased to give him money at the end.
Down the street a 12 year old black girl is doing a serviceable impression of Beyoncé, and a totally ignored guitarist who I thought pretty good is ignored by all. Toby says dismissively: That's how I played the guitar... Obviously going to Berklee upped the ante.
We eat at a sushi bar owned by a Korean...terrific, especially the soft shelled crab chumaki (newly acquired knowledge!).
Then it is back to Joel's as it gets dark and we watch the Giants-Packers game before going out to the churrasceria mentioned before.
A spectacular LA day, with a bit of everything, the good, the bad, and if not the ugly, the ridiculous (see Jock).
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment