The Ho Chi Minh City Excursion // Dayshots

The week before Tet, I went to Ho Chi Minh City. I went mostly to see my friend David, but also to spend some time by myself, without family nearby for the first time in weeks and weeks. 

I rode the Mekong Express bus to get there. Hopped out as we crossed the Mekong River.

The Mekong.

I wonder what the river will be like after the mega-dam is built.

We had a dusty stop just before crossing the border on National Road 1.

Exchanged USD into VND and became a millionaire.

Most countries' money is prettier than the USD.

Com tam is my favorite.

David had a snazzy, fixed up Honda Super Cub. Saigon is lovely to ride around in at night. Unlike in Cambodia where only the driver has to wear a helmet, passengers also have to wear them in Vietnam. You can see both helmets dangling at David's knee.

I splurged and stayed at Song Anh Hotel, right in downtown. Traveling alone, and feeling very soft from so long in the cozy embrace of my family, I decided to forgo the backpacker area.

The hotel employees thought I was weird for taking stairs instead of the elevator to my 5th floor room.

Saw this on my last day. But heard it over and over again throughout my trip.

Mostly, I roamed around the city on foot, drinking papaya smoothies, munching on street snacks, and sitting in the shade in the many lovely parks in the city. The French colonial influence is much more apparent in HCMC than in Phnom Penh. I felt like I was in the Paris of Southeast Asia.

General Post Office designed by Gustave Eiffel.

It was so different than being in Phnom Penh; though traffic was still quite congested, the streets were not as dusty, and I wasn't worried about hygiene at the streetside food stands. Though, I was not so concerned in Phnom Penh, either. Within month two of my stay, I was drinking the tap water at my aunt's house and having ice in beverages with abandon. I figured I'd acclimated enough at that point, and I was tired of boiling the water; I figured most of the harm would come from chemicals moreso than bacteria, and boiling would just concentrate them. That logic might be flawed. Another part of it was being tired of the stream of plastic water bottles that kept coming my way. And whether it makes sense or not, it made me feel closer to Cambodia to drink the water. There are people drinking out of muddy streams and wells with arsenic in the water. I figured I could handle the municipal tap. And I'm okay (not that I'm recommending others to so). 

One of my favorite parts of the trip was sitting by the Saigon River sipping coffee with David on my second night. We talked about Los Angeles, and what it's like to move from one town to another, and how Southeast Asia is quickly adopting the hurried pace of Western civilization. It seems that people don't really make time for one another-- spending time together is just a part of life. But now there are gated communities popping up, and the nuclear-family-based culture is increasingly taking hold, and I think about how lucky I was to grow up in a multi-generational home, without any distinction between "family" and "extended family."

I'm rambling. I'm sitting in a cafe in Little Saigon. It feels good to be home. So many things to do. So many places still to go. I have a loose timeline. I have a little cash. I have a lot of loved ones. I feel lucky.

Dispatch from Cambodia, 8 // The Farmhouse

I rode a tuk-tuk the thirtyish kilometers from one aunt’s house to another’s, southward through the crowded streets of Phnom Penh to Setbo, a small town on the western bank of Tonle Bassac.

You can see me in the right-hand rear-view.

The six days went by more quickly than I expected and I was torn about whether to extend my stay or leave as I’d scheduled. I was enjoying the peaceful time with my aunt and uncle, their little dog, and the chickens that roamed about each day. I read The Motorcycle Diaries, got Khmer lessons from my uncle, wrote a bit, learned to make Khmer sticky-rice desserts, went on a few joy rides on the moto, and itched. My aunt told me stories about growing up in the area: how their house was right over the water, jumping from the porch to the river during the rainy season, getting whooped by my grandmother after sneaking out to play. It sounded not a little idyllic. We laughed a lot together.

The pup in the basket was not my idea. We were both a little terrified.

Banana trees at golden hour.

My uncle washing dishes by candlelight. The power goes out often, sometimes several times a day. 

So much lovely papaya.

One thing I’ve had to adjust to while spending time with family is having three square meals a day. I've had to abandon my usual routine of morning coffee followed by light grazing throughout the day. My aunts tell me in Khmer to “Eat large!” at nearly every meal, and more often than not I find a big scoop of rice or soup or fruit or something in front of me before I had a chance to protest. On my last full day, we went on a long tuk-tuk excursion to Phnom Saang and Tonle Bati via rough rice-paddy roads that left all of us sore, and I actually managed to convince my aunt to let me skip dinner (which she probably only agreed to because she herself was also feeling frighteningly full). 

Passing a duck farm between Phnom Saang and Tonle Bati.

I considered extending my stay, but I was being fed farmhand portions without the accompanying calorie-burning work, making me fear that my stomach would burst. Refusing food somehow feels akin to refusing love in a Khmer household, and I had accepted as much love as I could from my sweet-toothed aunt. So I ran off back to Phnom Penh, promising to make an effort to return before I leave Cambodia.

My last breakfast involved these two gorgeously orange-yolked fried eggs.

The Thailand Excursion

In an attempt to find relief from the stifling heat of Phnom Penh in late December, my family decided to take a World Pop Tour to Thailand. 

Our tour guide had a soothing voice and some funny stories, and the daily meals and schedule were relatively well-coordinated, but beyond that, I was disappointed that we were taken mostly to tourist traps (including a swallow's nest outlet, leather dealer, and jewelry factory) rather than to any historical or cultural sites. We managed not to set foot in a single wat nor visit a floating market. It was an odd tour. I'm burned out on sitting in moving vehicles.

Bangkok sprawls.

Bangkok: The Los Angeles of Thailand?

My favorite part of the trip was the two hours we spent on a beach in Pattaya, swimming, drinking coconut juice, and watching a seemingly endless stream of jet skis and speedboats whiz around. It was incredibly smoggy, though, and made me long for Kampong Saom.

Apparently these coconuts are injected with flavorings.

At an "Orchid Resort" where we watched an elephant show that made me very sad for the elephants

Coconut as compensation for indignity.

On the way back to Cambodia, we stopped at a Tesco Lotus, what I gather is Thailand's version of Target/Walmart.

Everywhere is becoming just like everywhere else.

(Read The Machine Stops. Paul Davis tweeted about the short story many weeks ago and I finally got around to reading it when I got to Cambodia.)

On the bright side, it was good to spend time with Khmers who currently live in Cambodia, France, Australia, and other parts of the US. Despite my recent increase in social awkwardness, I managed to have a few pleasant conversations by the end of the trip, and even got to talk with a Cambodian-born Aussie named Adam about being a writer.

And then, I became a happy hermit.

Dispatch from Cambodia, 2 // How to Eat a Duck Embryo, Khmer-Style

Last week we went to stay at my aunt's "farm house" in Setbho to spend a day outside the dust, smog, and noise of Phnom Penh. Wherever we are, a family gathering always means rather continuous eating. It's been overwhelming. It's hard to get hungry when I'm often sweating just sitting around. The lucky part is that most meals consist of fish and rice, which means I still feel relatively healthy. 

After the main part of lunch was over, and after everyone recovered a bit from the food coma, pbong tdia kohn time was announced. Also known as balut. This isn't a typical occurrence in the US, where we've become much more faint of heart, and I would usually shake my head and scamper off, but I decided to go for it this time. My 8-year-old cousin was rumored to be able to eat six or seven, which added to my motivation. 

I'd always seen pbong tdia kohn eaten in the shell, but this time I saw some relatives cracking it into a bowl. Since I managed to open the egg at the wrong end (meaning the larger end, which leaves space to tuck in seasonings), I had to go this route:

It's not cute, I know. And to be honest, I only ate the yolk, which makes me feel like a cheater. I gave it another try, opening it at the correct end this time, which allowed me to use an egg cup (aka a tiny tea cup).

I was used to seeing the salt, pepper, and lime juice as seasonings for the egg, but not herbs. Herbs truly make everything better. I'm not sure whether what we used was a variant of Thai basil, or some other herb, but it was fragrant, slightly sweet, and quite a nice compliment.

Alas, once again, I failed to bring myself to try eating the little partially-formed chick inside the egg. I told this to a relative, and she gave me these tips for next time:

1. Make the hole just barely big enough.
2. Break up the egg inside with the handle of the spoon after adding the seasonings.
3. DON'T LOOK AT IT when eating.

The last tip is my favorite. I think the duck embryo feast was a just-this-once kind of thing, which is fine by me. I'll tuck these tips away for next time. And hope that the eggs are even younger so I won't have to think about feathers.

Dispatch from Cambodia, 1

Phnom Penh, Cambodia

From Soriya Mall

I'm sitting in my uncle's pleasantly air-conditioned and WiFi'd house in Phnom Penh. I'll be here until tomorrow, when I return to my aunt's house across town, which I affectionately call the Mosquito Farm. I haven't been as itchy since I've been out of the 90-degree heat. According to my aunt-in-law, Phnom Penh is unusually warm right now-- she's usually able to wear long-sleeved shirts at this time of year. Since I'll be here until late February, I'm hoping to experience some of that weather before I leave. 

So far I've traveled with my family to Battambang, Siem Reap, Angkor Wat, Pailin, Bokor National Park, Sihanoukville, Kep, Kampot. There's been a lot of time sitting in a van, crossing the country on roads of varying quality. 

I have a strong attachment to Cambodia, but this trip has made me even more aware that I'm a Khmer American. Being able to speak passable Khmer and slowly learning the alphabet don't change the fact that I feel... different. At this point, it's probably smart to just accept that difference rather than keep worrying over it or fighting it or trying to fit somewhere. 

In college, I wrote a poem calling myself a "second-generation mess." I'm starting to let go of it, and of the insecurity that made me call myself that, but I still have a strong feeling of being adrift, belonging nowhere. Then again, that's also the intention I set for myself, because I want to be everywhere. Emotionally, it's not as easy as it used to be, or maybe just not as easy as I once thought it would be. But I'm here, being.

One day at Angkor Wat really wasn't enough. Hope to head back for a longer stay.

Thankful to be Hopping on a Plane

Santa Ana, CA

In six hours, I'll be on my way to Cambodia. My parents invited me to join them on their trip, and I couldn't refuse. It's been eight years since my first visit. Currently, the plan is to stay for three months. I'll be traveling with my parents for the first month, then I'll be on my own for months two and three. I haven't decided exactly what I'll be doing yet. Maybe I'll hole up on my uncle's farm far from internet and electricity. Maybe I'll take a trip to a climbers camp in Laos. I'm hoping to visit Vietnam and see Applesauce. Definitely want to meet the Tiny Toones youth and staff my friend Ryan has been working with in Phnom Penh. Hopefully I'll do all of these. I'll also still be on the job prowl. Who knows what could happen?

For reading, writing, and sharing.

I'm bringing a few copies of my chapbooks with me for potential sharing. I look forward to reading Yumi's long-form zine about her trip to Europe last year (follow her tumblr, she's lovely) on the plane as I get ready for my own trip. Traveling is good for an artistic reset, which really feels needed for me right now. I'm halfway through Cadillac Desert and properly fired up about water development in the west; hopefully I'll finish the book long before the trip is over. Techniques of the Selling Writer was a gift that has some great insight into fiction writing, and I'll use it to give myself a sort of DIY Grad School experience while I'm away. I'm bringing the Rough Guide to Southeast Asia on a Budget just in case I decide to do more traveling and don't have the easy access to the web that has kept me from perusing the book deeply until now. 

And two notebooks. The dark blue one on the right is my thick everything-notebook, which replaced the one I lost in DC earlier this year. It's heavier, but I'm hoping that means it will also be harder to lose.  I found the green notebook in my old room at my parents house, and decided to use it as a diary of what I do each day, so that at least I'll have a log of things I do. Hopefully the everything-notebook will fill up with heartier bits of writing. The last time I took a notebook to Cambodia, I stopped writing in it very much after the first week or two, and regret that I didn't try harder to at least record things. I'm going to try harder this time.

Now, off I go for a full day in transition. Making good on my blog name.

Dayshots: Catalina Island Non-Natives

I got to spend some time at the USC Wrigley Institute on Catalina Island last summer, and I saw these lovely and very large bison roaming about near the campus. 

I called him Grandpa Bison. He seemed grandfatherly.

I thought of these two as whippersnappers.

Apparently, the bison liked to wander onto the campus and roll around in the sandy volleyball courts from time to time. If you happen to land on the island, try the buffalo milk, at least once.

Escape to the South: Riding Tufesa

I disappeared to Guaymas, Sonora, Mexico for a few days at the beginning of September.


These were taken in San Carlos, a development north of Guaymas that has been the baby of Rafael Caballero for a long time now. He's grooming this place to become a tourist destination and there is a part of me that hopes he doesn't succeed.

I think the 14-hour bus ride made getting there all the sweeter. Of course, you could fly into Guaymas in a few hours, but you'd have to plan ahead unless you can afford to pay for an $800 flight.

When I tell people that I took a 14-hour bus ride there and another 15-hour bus ride back, they are incredulous. It doesn't seem worth it for just five days, especially when the cost is about the same as a well-planned plane ticket to somewhere in the United States. "Well-planned" is the operative word here-- this trip was most definitely not, which means we were scrambling to find transportation at 10PM the night before we left.

Since I tried Megabus earlier this year (before they high-tailed it out of LA), I became a fan of traveling by bus: all I have to do is buy a ticket online, bring my ID, get on the bus, and go. No anxiety about having to check my luggage because I want to bring along a favorite bottle of cologne, no wondering whether anything I'm carrying could be misconstrued as a weapon, no need to deal with dreaded airport traffic (if for some reason I decide not to take the FlyAway from Union Station). Maybe it's because I haven't taken Greyhound, but I haven't had any of the nightmarish experiences that people envision when they think of bus travel. (Except for being stranded in the middle of nowhere by the bus, but that was my own foolish fault, and the bus miraculously turned around and came back for me.)

There are many, many charter bus services that are extremely comfortable and not very well-publicized. Tufesa, which is the service I took to Guaymas, is one of them. If not for the magic of Google Search, I never would have found them, and my traveling companion and I may never have gotten to Mexico. I landed upon Tufesa's website through a search for "Guaymas bus," and though the first page I got was in Spanish, some further perusal revealed that they provide bus service from Downtown Los Angeles all the way to Guadalajara with a stop in Guaymas. I felt like I had hit the jackpot.

My friend and I got to their Downtown LA office about an hour before the bus was scheduled to leave, bought our tickets, and thus our adventure began. Truth be told, the office doesn't look like much, just a ticket window, some slightly worse-for-wear chairs, and a bathroom, but the bus itself was considerably more comfortable than a seat on Southwest.

Their stations in Mexico were larger and nicer than this one: well-lit, air-conditioned, and very clean, most of them with a "Cafeteria Tufesa" with snacks and beverages. The bus itself had comfortable seats which reclined surprisingly far. Complaints: they played movies during all the daylight hours of the ride and the bus was freezing cold at night. It was also hit or miss on whether there was TP in the on-board restroom (luckily, I was prepared-- TP was in great demand in some of their stations, too). All in all, I would definitely ride Tufesa again. There was a huge mix-up on our journey back in which we thought we were being dropped off in Santa Ana and ended up in East LA, where we thought we were stranded. After some brief consultation with their managers, the driver took us back to the Downtown office and then put us on a shuttle to Orange County that dropped us off at the perfect location. Excellent customer service.

There are a few other bus lines that go down through Mexico, I just happened upon Tufesa and went with it. The shuttle we rode actually takes people all the way from Downtown LA to Tijuana for about $30-- amazing. They're very nice and pick up from locations along the 5 freeway from 8am-5pm every day, from what I was told. Unfortunately I do not remember the name, but I'm sure the magic of Google would turn up something. It would probably be even easier to use these services if you know Spanish, but my friend and I did just fine.

As they say, you can have two of these at a time: Cheap, Good, Fast. Obviously, I opt for Cheap & (hope for) Good whenever possible.

Tufesa
611 Maple Ave.
90014

Cost:
Ticket to Guaymas: $99
Ticket to LA from Hermosillo: $103
Total: $202

From the El Rey to SoDo

Out of necessity, I've finally begun to take my hefty, darling rust-bucket of a bicycle on both Metro Rail and on a Metro bus. I don't think I secured my bicycle properly to the Metro 20's rack last night, but I'll consider it a success since it survived the trip from Wilshire & Western to the El Rey Theater.

A couple of friends had come up to LA to see Jay Brannan perform at the El Rey and another friend came up via Amtrak to meet them after the show. I couldn't pass up the chance to hang out with my Orange County pals, especially since one of them took a train to get to LA instead of driving. We met at the Wilshire and Western, the last stop for the Metro Purple Line (which I feel doesn't get mentioned nearly as often as it should considering it goes to K-town where there are still many things to do after 7PM). While walking down Wilshire and waiting for the Metro 20, my friend and I marveled at the fact that we were wandering around Los Angeles via public transit, something that had never even crossed our minds as a possibility less than a year ago.

We waited at the (recently opened?) Doughboys Lite next to the theater and caught portions of songs faintly through the doors. We were tempted to ask the security guards to let us in just for the last portion of the concert, but opted instead to sit and write until our other friends came out. (Yes, I know, we are very exciting people.)

When the concert ended, I spent a few minutes catching up with my friends and then we parted ways, them in a car headed back to Irvine, and me on my bicycle to the bus stop. I waited for the Metro 20 for about ten or fifteen minutes, only to see it whiz right by all of us at the stop, already crammed with people, its bike rack completely occupied. I considered waiting for the next bus for about five minutes before deciding to just ride my bike rather than wait for the next one.

During the thirty or so minutes that it took to get home, no buses passed me. I expected at least a Rapid to go by, or possibly even another 20, but neither did. The ride down Wilshire was cool and peaceful and mostly downhill, for which I was thankful. I had to climb a few hills down Hoover, but it wasn't too bad. I didn't realize that my hip flexors were aching until I got to Pico, at which point I saw the sweet vision of the 10 freeway in the distance. I've come to love the 10 freeway coming into sight and letting me know that I am almost home.

Upon getting home, I looked up the distance from my apartment to the El Rey and realized that "far" wasn't as far as I thought: 6.5 miles is hardly spectacularly long on a bicycle. I'm sure the ride would have been even easier if I a road bike. Every time I ride a little bit farther, or take a new, unfamiliar bus route, my confidence in my ability to get around LA without a car increases.

I doubt I would have ventured out were it not for the fact that I own an EZ Pass, which eliminated any concerns about fumbling with cash or change for fare. Now that I'm over my bike-on-transit phobia, I imagine that I'll be using the pass even more often. As long as the buses have space for me.

Metro 20 (opens a PDF timetable) travels between 7th & Main in Downtown and Pico & Main in Santa Monica via Wilshire.

Coffee & Donuts II: Startling Night

Last night turned out more perfectly than I could have imagined. The plan had been to get a donut from King Donuts and then send up a little prayer for Ollin Cafe to be open so that I could have my usual Thursday sugar and caffeine fix (about 10 hours late). I was close to not going through with it but I suppose the inertia of my initial desire was enough to keep me from turning toward home.

As I rode my bike around the corner of Hoover and Venice and Ollin Cafe came into view, I was saddened to see that its aluminum panels were closed, except for the ones at the entrance. It was only 8:00PM, but I wasn't surprised-- I hadn't really expected the plan to work out anyway, especially with the notoriously early closing times of most businesses in this part of town.

What surprised me was that when I came to take a closer look, the woman sitting inside came to the door and invited me in, offering to get me coffee even though they were closed. I told her that it was fine, that I didn't have to have coffee and that I'd come back when they were open, but she was so friendly and insistent that I couldn't just ride off again. She even let me bring my bicycle into the cafe.

It turns out that she was sitting inside waiting for her husband to pick her up, passing the time by watching television while making quinceañera center pieces with her mother-in-law. There were at least a dozen of the handmade creations sitting on the floor upstairs beyond the view of passers-by. Her name was Veronica and she was incredibly engaging; she offered me much more information about herself than I would have expected, was so open. She told me that the owner of Ollin Cafe is actually Lebanese and the Latin American theme of the restaurant sprung from his love of travel. Veronica also revealed to me more details of her life than I would have ever expected to hear. I suppose part of it may be due to the fact that I am a rather unthreatening-looking young woman, but even so, her openness and kindness warmed me.

Veronica didn't just let me in so that she could sell another cup of coffee-- she invited me in and urged me to have a sit and stay awhile. She made me a cafe au lait in the ceramic mug that I brought with me, and talked to me about things that I will not mention here, but which made me feel that fate had brought me to this place on this particular night-- that I had ended up in exactly where I should have.

She apologized for her English, to which I responded by apologizing for my lack of Spanish. She communicated with me beautifully. Her compassion and kindness were apparent and I think she spoke much more eloquently than she realized. After talking for a while longer, she returned upstairs to work on her centerpieces while I sat with my mug of coffee and the chocolate twist from King Donuts (which closes at around 9PM, contrary to their "Open 24 Hours" sign).


Veronica's husband arrived an hour or so later, but there was no rushing me out at all. When I did finally decide that it was time to leave and asked to rinse out my mug myself, she took it and not only rinsed it, but took completely unnecessary care in drying it for me. She continuously amazed me.

I thanked her profusely as I left, and she just kept saying that it was fine, "it's okay, my friend, good night." Incredibly, she even told me to just call ahead if I wanted to stop by another evening, and that she would wait for me. Amazing.

Sometimes I feel like I am a traveler in Los Angeles, wandering around Downtown with a backpack filled with not only a notepad or books, but a first aid kit, my own mug safety pins, and a canvas bag, among other miscellaneous items. I guess that in a way, I am living in this city like a backpacker-- I just happen to have a one-year lease on an apartment instead of one-month's booking at a hostel. Perhaps the best way to experience a place is to pretend that you are leaving it.

USC Students, venture northward and support this place, please! $1.00 Coffee 6AM-11AM! And there's Wi-Fi!











Ollin Cafe
1325 Venice Blvd. (just east of Hoover) -
90006
213-739-8969

Cost Summary:
Donut: $0.60
Coffee: $1.50
Total: $2.10

Favourite Place: Central Library

The first time I visited Central Library was four years ago, and until I moved nearer to Downtown, it had remained a distant and fond memory. Now it is often where I begin my excursions around Downtown if it is not the destination itself.

It is easy to hop on the DASH F Line, walk up
those steps and take in the skeletal sculptures, the foreign languages engraved on the steps, the trees and benches and pigeons.



I could wander through the place for hours and often do. There is always something new to see, such as the current exhibit in the library's first floor gallery: Leo Politi's Bunker Hill. I love the way the vast center of the library is flooded with natural light and looking at these sculptures above me as I ride the escalators down.



I usually enter and exit the library on Flower Street, but the last time I was there I discovered that the Hope Street exit is quite lovely as well. I sat on the wide wall at the entrance and read with the company of kumquat trees. It was the perfect way to enjoy the unseasonably warm winter day. I had to suppress the urge to eat one of those kumquats; I probably looked out of place enough sitting on that wall without devouring the shrubbery.





Central Library
630 W. 5th Street
90071

Super Tuesday & DineLA

Hillary is ahead. I had nothing to do with it-- I'm not registered as a member of any party.

Where did I vote on Super Tuesday? My polling location was incredibly convenient:

Audi Green Room
1900 S. Figueroa St.
90007

After work, I dropped off my absentee ballot, got my "I Voted" sticker, then went with two friends to check out LA Prime at the Westin Bonaventure Hotel. We listened to NPR along the way and griped about how long it would take for the ballots to be counted.

The trip to LA Prime was an instance of seriously living beyond my means that I will not be repeating any time soon. I was only enticed by dineLA week's lowered prices, not to mention the 35th-floor view that we would have while dining there. Angelenic.com listend LA Prime as their best deal and my friends and I decided to spoil our brink-of-adulthood selves.

I had the lobster bisque, petit filet, truffle mashed potatoes (an extra $8), and a ridiculously large apple cobbler. The (free) bread was excellent, the steak was cooked perfectly, and at the end of the night I was sure that I would end up in some sort of gluttony hell for consuming as much food as I did.

Perhaps losing my "I Voted" sticker during the course of the night was a form of punishment.

Never again, I say. Until maybe the next dineLA week.

LA Prime New York Steakhouse
Westin Bonaventure
404 S. Figueroa St.
90071

Route:
North on Figueroa, complimentary valet is at Flower & Second.

Cost Summary:
3-courses (Prix Fixe Menu)
Truffle Mashed Potatoes
Tax & Tip
Total: $55.00

Parks, Sitting, Walking, & Coffee in the Financial District

I spent much of the day on Monday wandering downtown mostly on foot. I took the Dash to Grand Hope Park, which sits behind FIDM, then ambled the however-many blocks up to Central Library. I knew that the library was closed in honor of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.'s birthday, and the point of going there was just to have a sit in the Maguire Gardens which face Flower Street.

Not very many people were sitting on the half-dozen benches available in the gardens, and I was the only gal. I suppose not many people would venture into the park in January to just hang out, and even less so in Los Angeles, where young people tend to make a mass exodus to the mountains for weekend snowboarding. Somewhere in me there is a crotchety old man whining about "kids these days."

It was lovely to sit and watch the pigeons flutter about frantically for food, hear the skater-kids riding down the stairway leading up to the library, see the clouds drift behind the buildings and trade places with patches of blue sky. There were actually a few people milling about and talking, which was refreshing after the near-desolation of Grand Hope Park. (In a month or two I will hopefully have found a good and affordable digital camera so that I'll be able to post photos of these lovely things I see.)

I walked over to Figueroa and avoided the semi-monstrosity of 7th+Fig, ducking into the Wilshire Promenade food court. I got a coffee from Tierra Cafe, whose menu proclaims "Vegetarian cuisine, Organic Coffee and Tea House." I think they were just glad to have another customer on what was surely a desolate business day. The coffee was hot, though, which was the most important thing at the moment anyway.

Somehow-- blame it on the caffeine, maybe-- instead of hopping on the Dash F at Flower & 7th to get home, I decided to walk toward the Dash D stop at Olympic and Hill. The next thing I knew, I'd forgone transit entirely and instead found myself walking south on Broadway, determined to walk through the Dead Zone that starts at about Olympic or 11th Avenue, where there is nothing.

I did not see much as I walked down Broadway or Main south of Olympic. A few scattered little hole-in-the-wall taquerias, and the outskirts of the Fashion District along Main mostly offered socks and sports-enthusiast apparel.

I had timed it so that I wouldn't be walking past dusk, and I made it through the 2.5-mile trek just fine, though I did have a somewhat confusing exchange with a man at an intersection who babbled something and then offered me money. I just smiled and proceeded across the street. I've since decided that he was just seeing if I needed bus fare.

Tierra Cafe
818 Wilshire Blvd. #D
90017

Central Library
630 W. Fifth St.
90071

Route:
Dash D from Olive & Washington to 9th, then much aimless wandering northward, followed by more purposeful walking southward

Cost Summary:
Dash: $0.25
Coffee: $1.50
Total: $1.75

Lost Souls Cafe

For the coffee enthusiast (fanatic, fiend, addict), living this far south of downtown poses the horrifying threat of utter deprivation from a decent coffee experience. The only prepared cup of coffee to be found on or near this block, from what I have seen so far, is from either McDonald's, Burger King, or Subway. An important creature comfort for me is to be able to sip well-made coffee in a comfortable atmosphere close to home, and those three options certainly do not fit the bill by any stretch of the imagination.

When I lived in El Sereno, I was lucky enough to have Antigua Cultural Coffeehouse a very walkable 1.5 miles from my apartment. I had planned on venturing there again on Monday night despite the 8-mile drive for their almost mystical Mayan Mocha, but an announcement on Angelenic that Lost Souls Cafe had acquired a liquor license intrigued me enough that I decided to change my plans and keep my business in downtown instead. I convinced my friends Robbie and Jessica, themselves new Koreatown residents, to join me on my excursion to the cafe.

We took Metro bus 45 from the corner of Broadway and Washington to 4th and Broadway, and a short two-and-a-half block walk later we came upon the infamous gated alleyway through which the entrance to Lost Souls can be found. Inside we were greeted by an industrial/bohemian/urban atmosphere, with tulip-adorned cafe tables in the front of the space, sofas at the rear, exposed ventilation ducts above, string lights over the bar, and clamp lamps along the wall. An inviting array of board games and books were stacked on a few tables and low shelves among the sofas.

Beverages offered ranges from their "House Drip" coffee to iced teas to Kombucha to a variety of beers. I ordered the "Soul Drip," which is their House Drip plus condensed milk and half-and-half. Since I am accustomed to drinking my coffee with either one or the other, I was intrigued at the combination. The beverage had a good mouth-feel, and the sweetness of the condensed milk was tempered by the half-and-half. The true test will not come, though, until I try a regular latte or cappuccino.

On a Monday night, the place was far from bustling, and we three comprised half of the patrons that night. I imagine it to be much more lively on their many nights with events and on weekends. I'm glad we made it here and I'm excited to check it out again alone in the near future to see if this can become a home for me the way Antigua did.

Lost Souls Cafe
124 W. 4th St.
90013

Route:
Metro bus 45 from Broadway & Washington to Broadway & 4th.

Cost Summary:
Bus fare: 2.50 (round trip)
Soul Drip: 2.15 (small)
Total: $4.65