T's Travels

Five Days in Sunny California--Day 3

The drugs were starting to take effect for Joe (how's that for an opener?) so we decided to follow our original plans for Wednesday and do a little touring. After breakfast at Mickey Fine's (yes, again) we drove Santa Monica Blvd., through at least part of Hollywood, and north to Griffith Park. My dad had recommended a stop at the Autry National Center for the American West.

Movie cowboys? I'm there! (And yes, my fellow Pennsylvanians, Tom Mix got a nod.) But the Autry Center is far more than cinematic thrills. One side of the museum was the permanent display, the history of cowboys on film, with costumes, stories, and moving pictures! Even a place where you could sit on a saddle and pretend you were galloping across the range chasing bad guys while your friends saw you on a TV screen! The setup is scaled for a child, but that's not why I didn't do it. I just didn't have the heart to push out the guy in front of me (yes, close to my age); he was just having too much fun. 

Exhibits on the other side of the museum change. When we visited (and through May 10) is "Bold Caballeros and Noble Bandidas," a history of the 1910 Mexican revolution that debunks every stereotype I ever heard about Pancho Villa. This museum does not make my list of good small museums, but that's because it's not small. Most definitely a great place to see.

We enjoyed the Autry Center but had to leave before we saw everything because we had one more stop planned for the day and I wanted to make sure we didn't miss it. The last tour of the day at the Hollyhock House, Frank Lloyd Wright's early 1920s' Los Angeles effort, was supposed to start at 3:30. 

While Joe and I were building the home we live in, we studied FLW's Usonian concept of organic architecture. It means simplicity of materials and design, done in an economical fashion. We've been to three other FLW homes--Fallingwater, Kentuck Knob, and the Pope-Leighey House (but that's for another article). So we know what's Wright. The Hollyhock House was built for former Pennsylvanian Aline Barnsdall, who saw it as both her home and a center for artists.

As I said, the tour was supposed to start at 3:30. It was 3:45 before our guide came out of the house with the previous group. She started by taking our tickets and then launched right into the story of Wright's mistress's murder. That seemed like an odd way to start a tour, but I thought she'd move on to a more logical narrative. That didn't happen. She did talk about him being in Japan around the time the house was designed, though, and that he was just finding his place in architecture.

We moved into the house and she was talking but we could not follow what she said. There was little discussion of Wright's principles and design, and what she said about Barnsdall didn't seem to be relevant (the woman wanted a family and a baby, but that didn't happen? I think that's what she said, but then upstairs she referred to the baby's room). She mentioned another architect, someone she said was well known in Los Angeles, and said he had worked on the house, too, but I don't know what kind of input he had, working on the design or overseeing construction or who knows what. From the tour I only know that he and Wright had a falling out and never spoke again.

When we passed a bucket and tarp in the hallway, I thought for sure she'd give us the "every roof in every FLW house leaks. This is what we call a 'one-bucket' house." But instead when someone asked her about it, she threw up her arms and said, "It wasn't right when it was built, it's not right now, we'll be fixing it forever!" as though talking about her own home and an absent contractor, not a landmark building and a highly respected American architect.

The house has some features that are clearly Wright--furniture, windows, doors. Because I've now seen it, I want to find something to read in detail about the design and the building, to interpret what I've seen. I know Wright and Barnsdall had a contentious relationship, but she didn't explain that as part of the history. What did he think of the house? What elements did he use in other places? I don't usually write negative things in a travel piece; if I have a bad experience, I just don't mention a place. Maybe our guide was just having a bad day. But Hollyhock House is part of our architectural history and not very well known in the East. I think people should see it, so I do recommend a visit. But maybe you should read up on the place before you go. 

We left feeling pretty dejected, drove back to Beverly Hills, and started to look for a dinner spot. We were hoping to go to Cafe Flore, which the website that recommended Mickey Fine's had mentioned, but it was New Year's Eve and the cafe was closed. Most restaurants were, it turned out. So we drove around until we found an Italian place that was open. I parked the car and as we started walking, we passed another restaurant that looked open. One look at the menu for Aram Restaurant, specializing in Persian food, and we were sold. Joe had lamb, I had chicken and beef kabobs, both with grilled tomatoes and mounds of beautiful white rice accented with saffron rice. We were alone in the restaurant (no one eats at 6:30 on New Year's Eve except East Coast people with sinus infections who didn't have lunch and have to get up very early the next day for the Rose Bowl Parade!), but the staff was very attentive and we enjoyed our dinner. We finished the meal with some traditional Persian desserts (sweet!) and hot tea. It was a very nice ending to a long, uneven day.

Five Days in Sunny California--Day 2

After a decent night's sleep in our gorgeous hotel, we both felt a little better. While prepping for this trip, I had Googled "cheap eats in Beverly Hills," looking for some guidance on where we could get not-fancy food. I love a creative breakfast, but I don't want to eat that way every day. Found what seemed to be good advice and took the information with us. Years ago we went to Nantucket without the benefit of the Internet and discovered a lunchcounter at the drugstore. It was great to have a good, uncomplicated breakfast at a very reasonable price.

Based on our research, and that Nantucket experience, for breakfast Tuesday morning (at 10:15 CA time, so it was lunch for us!) we went to the lunchcounter at the Mickey Fine Pharmacy in Beverly Hills (yes, there's a drugstore every two feet in Beverly Hills--no hospital, just drugstores). I ordered blueberry pancakes. Joe had the ham and egg croissant. Perfect! The place was bustling--they seem to do a huge takeout business. Our waitress, Annie, was cheerful and friendly, which considering the trip we were having was just what we needed.

After breakfast, we went back to the hotel. Joe wasn't feeling up to doing much, so I decided we would skip the trip to Huntington Beach and the International Surfing Museum. Another time for sure. We sat in the sun on the balcony above the pool for a while. Then he wanted to rest, so we went back to the room and I turned on the widescreen TV. Showing was a documentary called Riding Giants, about surfing giant waves. I knew some of the history, but this documentary introduced me to people like Greg Noll. If I had to miss the museum, this was about the best alternative I could have.

Once the movie was over, it was time to leave to meet a contingent from Joe's family. (Short version, his family likes to surprise each other by showing up. The ones who live outside LA didn't know we were coming but the ones who were visiting from PA did, and they helped coordinate the rendezvous.) We left Beverly Hills at 3:00. We got to Rancho Cucamonga (northeast of LA) at 5:45. So I got to experience the full thrill of freeway driving at rush hour. Dinner at Lucille's (BBQ chain), great to see the family. Return trip to the hotel--one hour.

As we came into the hotel from the parking garage, we saw that the hotel was hosting a private party. On the white wall above the pool was a soundless 1960s-era film of young men surfing. It was almost surreal.

We went to bed hoping Day 3 would bring Joe some recovery.

Five Days in Sunny California

What a Christmas present! A trip to the Rose Bowl—plane, hotel in Beverly Hills, tickets to the Rose Bowl Parade and game—courtesy of my dad. He booked us through Collegiate Athletic Travel, flying direct from Harrisburg to Los Angeles. I couldn’t wait. Every time I thought about it, I had to go to the CAT Web site and listen to “Hail to the Lion.”

Right before Christmas Joe came down with a bad cold, so the holiday came and went pretty quietly. By Saturday he still wasn’t feeling great so we went to the doctor. I was concerned he might not be able to fly (the whole air pressure during landing/eardrum problem I knew other people had experienced). The doctor said Joe would be fine to fly.

Just by my writing this, you know he wasn’t. We got up at 3:45 a.m. on Monday, drove to the airport, stood in line for our boarding passes, watched the local TV stations interviewing people in full Penn State regalia, moved through Security without a hitch. Got to the boarding area and realized our seats were not together. Five hours not sitting together? We didn’t like that. I sat two-thirds of the way back, Joe sat in the fourth row. Long flight but (after running through airports on the way to and from Wyoming in the spring) it was nice not to have to worry about connecting flights. I had a great time talking to a couple from Shoemakersville.

The landing seemed to take forever. When I deplaned, I saw Joe on the tarmac, clearly not himself. He told me he had had 40 minutes of “excruciating pain” (this stoic man who rarely lets on to anything) during the landing. Clearly he had a serious sinus infection. His ears were completely blocked, his head ached, he was as miserable as I’ve ever seen him.

We took the tour bus to our hotel. Even though it was only 9 a.m., our room was ready. While Joe rested I stopped at the front desk to ask where a drugstore was so that I could get some over-the-counter meds and juice. The clerk told me (rather abruptly) that I should speak to the concierge about that. (I would have gone to him first, but he was busy and I was very worried about my husband.) With the concierge’s very pleasant help, I found the drugstore easily. I also called our doctor back home, hoping for a prescription to be phoned in. The receptionist said we’d get a call back.

Joe napped for a while. He felt a little better when he got up, and I know he was thinking that he was ruining my week, so we headed out. For lunch we stopped at the Beverly Deli, a short walk from the hotel. Joe had a turkey sandwich (the waitress kept trying to give him something to replace the cole slaw he didn't want) and I had their "world-famous tuna melt." Not what I expected--it was more like a grilled tuna-salad sandwich. When Joe got up for a minute, the woman at the next table told me I had a "Kathy Baker thing going on." I said, as I smiled, "No, I'm just thinking of an author I'd like to kill." (FYI to readers: That's an editor joke.)

After lunch we picked up the rental car (the clerks at Beverly Hills Budget Rent-a-car were great!) and drove down Wilshire Boulevard to the La Brea Tar Pits while we waited to hear from the doctor. Under different circumstances, we would have stayed longer. Parking was difficult (think Christmas break and parents entertaining their kids), but we finally found a lot with open spaces. The Tar Pits is actually the George C. Page Museum on the site of the Rancho La Brea tar pits, with “largest and most diverse assemblage of extinct Ice Age plants and animals in the world” (from their Web site). We saw mammoth (as in Wooly) and saber-tooth cats (as in the Flintstones) skeletons. Very cool. In one section visitors can see archaeologists at work, cleaning things they found in the tar. I saw a mouse bone smaller than splinters I’ve had.

We left slightly before 4. The doctor’s office hadn’t yet called, so I called them again. The receptionist assured me that someone would call me back. We drove back to the hotel and I decided to ask someone where the nearest hospital was. (Note: From now on, we will always know where the local hospital is, on any trip we take.) While Joe waited in the car, I went to the concierge desk. I asked where the hospital was and the concierge said she’d have the hotel doctor come to our room. When I said, “Will he take our insurance?” she wrinkled her nose and said, “You’ll have to take that up with him.” Granted, I was very stressed: my husband was ill, I’d been up since the middle of the night, and we were in a strange city. But I did expect her to be more helpful.

We left the hotel and went to the drugstore I’d been in earlier. The pharmacist told Joe that there weren’t any hospitals in the area but we could call a local physicians’ group (she gave us the number) and they might be able to help. When Joe called them, the receptionist said, “How did you get this number?” Even in our stress, we had to laugh at that. She told us to go to Cedars-Sinai Hospital. Of course! Where all the stars go!

I called the hospital but their automated directions were for people who knew whether or not they were coming from the San Fernando Valley, so with the help of the map provided by the rental-car company, we found the hospital. (It wasn't that far away.) I dropped Joe off at the ER entrance and went in search of parking. When I came out of the parking garage, I had no idea which direction the hospital was. I must have looked terribly lost because a woman asked if she could help me. I asked her what street I was on and where the hospital was. With her (and one other person’s) help, I found Joe.

I cannot say enough good about the ER at Cedars-Sinai. Everyone was extremely helpful, professional, and pleasant. Joe was out within 1.5 hours and yes, of course, they took our insurance. We ate at Mulberry Street Pizza while his prescriptions (eardrums intact, but conjunctivitis on top of that sinus infection!) were filled at Rite-Aid Beverly Hills. We collapsed in our beautiful, restful hotel room, really glad to see the day end.