I am scribbling this on a ruled notepad in the warm confines of our bedroom in our Glassell Park apartment. It has gotten very hot here in Los Angeles as of late and I’ve been hoping and hoping for a quiet retreat. Perhaps miles and miles on the long stretch of asphalt and then on a small patch of dirt in the alpine woods. Maybe a little cool dip in a river up in the mountains.
Unfortunately, the electronic display of our bank account is a bringer of bad news and a bittersweet reminder of all the travels we’ve done in the last few months. It is telling me now that we will have to stay put for a little while; not a very comforting advice to a wanderer such as myself.
I still consider myself one of the lucky ones, however, as I listen to the cars speed past our building, almost like a symphony, constant and with purpose, to be living in a city as blue and as golden as this. An hour or two in any direction and I am transported to magical places. Always. Whether it be the stillness of the mountains or the ruggedness of the desert. It’s as if the forces of nature around the city are in perfect synergy, working together to make it one of the best places in the world to live in.
Yesterday, I just witnessed one of the most spectacular sunsets of my life, just less than an hour’s drive away. And it was just exactly what I needed, to lubricate my tightening gears. It may be a while before I could go anywhere again but Los Angeles will always be here for me, humming its usual neverending optical song, however bad my case of wanderlust gets.