Little Cat Feet
This morning was a rush; after staying up late to finish cleaning the apartment (got it in half-way decent condition, but by no means spanking clean), I tumbled out of bed groggily, got ready for the day, and drove to work instead of taking the bus. While public transportation in L.A. by no means matches, much less surpasses, that of Eastern cities, it isn't as bad as its reputation. One innovation of late that I appreciate is a digital readout above the driver's seat that indicates which stops the bus will approach next. It seems public transportation everywhere is adding touches like this. S.F.'s BART for quite a few years has had TV monitors indicating the arrival of the next train, how long it would be til said car arrived, and the length of the train. D.C.'s Metro system finally followed suit with similar train arrival announcements a few years ago. Boston and Chicago have yet to catch up with these two systems, and the centenarian NYC subway system isn't quite as modernized. Still, I expect in coming years these cities will play catch-up in their own fashion.
After driving over to Beverly Hills and parking at the lot off of Rodeo Drive, I walked over to the office and submitted my latest coverage and picked up my new assignment. One of my boss' clients is Anne Perry, so I'm now reading her work for the first time. I can see why she's popular - she has an engaging style. I have two books right now, so I'll read them and turn in my coverage next week.
I left early and came back here, and finished tidying up as much as I could in the few minutes I had left. My parents showed up, and after offering them a drink, taking care of a couple items of family business, we left to pick up my wife from classes. We decided to go out to lunch at The Apple Pan, since my parents had never been there, and my uncle has urged them to eat there. If you're ever in L.A. and in search of a great hamburger, you can't go wrong at The Apple Pan. It's been there for probably at least 60 years or thereabouts, on Pico, just a block east of Westwood. Inside it looks it really hasn't changed since it first opened. It's a lunchroom counter with stools arranged in a U-shape around a central grill/pantry. The walls are covered in dark wood paneling, and it's rather spartan. But the food... a very basic menu, akin to In 'N' Out-- just a couple choices of sandwiches, fries, a couple of sides, drinks, and pies. That's it. Still, it works. The hamburgers are made just the way they're supposed to be-- with a solid bun, a thick head of lettuce, a healthy slice of cheese, pickles, condiments, and a good sized patty-- not too large, but not skinny either, and cooked just enough so that it's not at all raw, but it's not charred either. The fries are a healthy serving, with a large helping of ketchup splattered on a paper plate by the servers. Until recently, they served sodas (soft drinks, pop, what have you) in paper cones, just like they used to do once upon a time. Now it's styrofoam cups. The pies are made on the site, from scratch. In the back on the right side is a huge picture window; if you look through, you can see an enormous pile of freshly peeled apples, next to wooden boards and rolling pins, all ready to be tossed into fresh crusts and baked.
It's not a fancy place, and they don't do gourmet anything. It's just like your parents (or even your grandparents) would have had when they were young. It's the kind of place Jughead would be hanging out in, waiting for Archie and the gang to walk in the door. Usually the traffic moves fast, and you don't have to wait too long for a seat. But if you do find the counters full, you just stand at the back of the room against the wall, and people do this, cheerfully, because this food is primo. It's across from the Westside Pavilion, which once upon a time was the site of the second drive-in theater ever in the country (the first one was in New Jersey or some such state, I believe- you'd think the first one would be in Southern California. As it is, I think there's only one or two drive-ins left in the L.A. area, out in Commerce or City of Industry or some other godawful town in the southeast part of the county, along the San Diego Freeway (I-5 to you non-SoCal folks)).
After lunch, we headed back to campus, to drop the gorgeous law student in my life off for a meeting, while I showed my parents around the older part of campus. The oldest buildings were build during the 20s, in an Ivy-League/European style, so that the buildings could easily pass for a campus back East. Because of this, film crews often skimp on their budget by filming at UCLA when they need a stand-in for a vaguely Ivy League-looking campus. Once we were all finished, we headed up to the Getty, as my father had yet to see the new Getty museum.
The Getty is perched above Brentwood, just off the 405, and is incredible. It's a huge, marble complex with long walkways, fountains, pools, terraces, and gardens. Parking is at the base of the hill, and you exit the parking area and go up a couple levels to a waiting area, where you take a tram. The tram trundles up the hill, giving you a view (especially on a clear day) of the 405, Westwood, the Wilshire Corridor, and areas beyond. At the top, you disembark on what looks like the entrance to some mogul's private home, built in a modern style. From there, you have your choice of the galleries or the gardens. At the edges of both gardens and from terraces, you can see all over L.A., as far as downtown, the Baldwin Hills, Palos Verdes, and on really clear days, far out to sea to Catalina Island, 26 miles off the coast of Palos Verdes. Below, around and behind you you can see Brentwood and Bel-Air.
What amazes me about the Getty is that there is no admission. Yep, you heard that right. The only thing you pay for is $7 to park your chariot in the parking garage. The tram, the galleries, and the gardens are absolutely free. The food, of course, comes with a price tag, and the artwork is in most cases priceless. But there is NO admission. J. Paul Getty's will stipulated that the foundations he established for the museum and such must spent X amount each year, to be drawn from the interest on the principal of trust funds he set up for this purpose. There is so much cash that they bought the land, built the museum, operate the trams, and employ tons of guards, staff, crew, etc. and still have no need to charge admission to keep it going. It's mind-boggling when you think about how much money a fortune based on oil brings in...
Unfortunately, today was the day the fog came in on little cat feet, and stayed. Boy, did it stay. By 4 p.m., the fog had advanced so far that it hovered right off of the terraces, surrounded the sun so that it resembled the moon, and made any vista backgrounds in photos impossible. We still enjoyed our visit anyway, and my parents plan to go back and visit again later, as all we had time for were the gardens. We were brought back here, deposited, said our farewells, and that was the end of our lovely day.
Before the fog came in, it was a delightful day in Southern California-- sun, temperatures hovering at 70 or slightly above, and clear skies. But then, the fog came in, on little cat feet. As I write, it's still on its little haunches, and probably won't move on until sometime late tomorrow morning.
After driving over to Beverly Hills and parking at the lot off of Rodeo Drive, I walked over to the office and submitted my latest coverage and picked up my new assignment. One of my boss' clients is Anne Perry, so I'm now reading her work for the first time. I can see why she's popular - she has an engaging style. I have two books right now, so I'll read them and turn in my coverage next week.
I left early and came back here, and finished tidying up as much as I could in the few minutes I had left. My parents showed up, and after offering them a drink, taking care of a couple items of family business, we left to pick up my wife from classes. We decided to go out to lunch at The Apple Pan, since my parents had never been there, and my uncle has urged them to eat there. If you're ever in L.A. and in search of a great hamburger, you can't go wrong at The Apple Pan. It's been there for probably at least 60 years or thereabouts, on Pico, just a block east of Westwood. Inside it looks it really hasn't changed since it first opened. It's a lunchroom counter with stools arranged in a U-shape around a central grill/pantry. The walls are covered in dark wood paneling, and it's rather spartan. But the food... a very basic menu, akin to In 'N' Out-- just a couple choices of sandwiches, fries, a couple of sides, drinks, and pies. That's it. Still, it works. The hamburgers are made just the way they're supposed to be-- with a solid bun, a thick head of lettuce, a healthy slice of cheese, pickles, condiments, and a good sized patty-- not too large, but not skinny either, and cooked just enough so that it's not at all raw, but it's not charred either. The fries are a healthy serving, with a large helping of ketchup splattered on a paper plate by the servers. Until recently, they served sodas (soft drinks, pop, what have you) in paper cones, just like they used to do once upon a time. Now it's styrofoam cups. The pies are made on the site, from scratch. In the back on the right side is a huge picture window; if you look through, you can see an enormous pile of freshly peeled apples, next to wooden boards and rolling pins, all ready to be tossed into fresh crusts and baked.
It's not a fancy place, and they don't do gourmet anything. It's just like your parents (or even your grandparents) would have had when they were young. It's the kind of place Jughead would be hanging out in, waiting for Archie and the gang to walk in the door. Usually the traffic moves fast, and you don't have to wait too long for a seat. But if you do find the counters full, you just stand at the back of the room against the wall, and people do this, cheerfully, because this food is primo. It's across from the Westside Pavilion, which once upon a time was the site of the second drive-in theater ever in the country (the first one was in New Jersey or some such state, I believe- you'd think the first one would be in Southern California. As it is, I think there's only one or two drive-ins left in the L.A. area, out in Commerce or City of Industry or some other godawful town in the southeast part of the county, along the San Diego Freeway (I-5 to you non-SoCal folks)).
After lunch, we headed back to campus, to drop the gorgeous law student in my life off for a meeting, while I showed my parents around the older part of campus. The oldest buildings were build during the 20s, in an Ivy-League/European style, so that the buildings could easily pass for a campus back East. Because of this, film crews often skimp on their budget by filming at UCLA when they need a stand-in for a vaguely Ivy League-looking campus. Once we were all finished, we headed up to the Getty, as my father had yet to see the new Getty museum.
The Getty is perched above Brentwood, just off the 405, and is incredible. It's a huge, marble complex with long walkways, fountains, pools, terraces, and gardens. Parking is at the base of the hill, and you exit the parking area and go up a couple levels to a waiting area, where you take a tram. The tram trundles up the hill, giving you a view (especially on a clear day) of the 405, Westwood, the Wilshire Corridor, and areas beyond. At the top, you disembark on what looks like the entrance to some mogul's private home, built in a modern style. From there, you have your choice of the galleries or the gardens. At the edges of both gardens and from terraces, you can see all over L.A., as far as downtown, the Baldwin Hills, Palos Verdes, and on really clear days, far out to sea to Catalina Island, 26 miles off the coast of Palos Verdes. Below, around and behind you you can see Brentwood and Bel-Air.
What amazes me about the Getty is that there is no admission. Yep, you heard that right. The only thing you pay for is $7 to park your chariot in the parking garage. The tram, the galleries, and the gardens are absolutely free. The food, of course, comes with a price tag, and the artwork is in most cases priceless. But there is NO admission. J. Paul Getty's will stipulated that the foundations he established for the museum and such must spent X amount each year, to be drawn from the interest on the principal of trust funds he set up for this purpose. There is so much cash that they bought the land, built the museum, operate the trams, and employ tons of guards, staff, crew, etc. and still have no need to charge admission to keep it going. It's mind-boggling when you think about how much money a fortune based on oil brings in...
Unfortunately, today was the day the fog came in on little cat feet, and stayed. Boy, did it stay. By 4 p.m., the fog had advanced so far that it hovered right off of the terraces, surrounded the sun so that it resembled the moon, and made any vista backgrounds in photos impossible. We still enjoyed our visit anyway, and my parents plan to go back and visit again later, as all we had time for were the gardens. We were brought back here, deposited, said our farewells, and that was the end of our lovely day.
Before the fog came in, it was a delightful day in Southern California-- sun, temperatures hovering at 70 or slightly above, and clear skies. But then, the fog came in, on little cat feet. As I write, it's still on its little haunches, and probably won't move on until sometime late tomorrow morning.
posted by Mr. Sandman | 11:14 PM
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