The city you can never leave
Nobody’s actually from Los Angeles — or if they are they won’t admit it. So I suppose most people here, like me, have gone through the initial culture shock, denial, bewilderment and occasional delight of settling in Los Angeles.
Variety.com editor Travis Smith recalls a party he attended shortly after his arrival here, at which an attractive woman approached him and asked if he worked in “the industry.” When he replied, as an outsider might, “Which industry?” she did a 180° turn and marched off.
My conversation with Travis reminded me that I had been meaning to document my own experiences from the time I arrived here, about six weeks ago. But so much has happened, between starting school, apartment hunting and looking for a job, that I am only now getting around to it.
Travis, who came from Canada 14 years ago for college and got sucked in, relates living in Los Angeles to that line from the Eagles’ Hotel California: “You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave.” “It gets truer the longer I stay here,” he said.
I hear this theme almost every time I talk to a fellow transplant, like Guillermina Molina, who came from North Carolina for grad school and never even escaped USC: She works in admissions now, recruiting more naïve, unsuspecting “guests” to Hotel California.
But why do people stay — despite the sprawl, the traffic, the pollution, and the expense? What keeps them here? I think I’m starting to understand now.
It’s not just the sunshine and the beaches and the mountains, though that doesn’t hurt. It’s also the amazing cultural and ethnic (and culinary!) diversity, which breeds greater tolerance and open-mindedness. It’s that unlikely fusion of laid-back cool and cutting-edge hip. It’s the prevailing belief in progressive government, despite its imperfections, as a vehicle for positive social change. It’s the fact that you can spend a whole evening in a bar and not come out smelling like an ashtray. And it’s the casual optimism people exude — almost as if the gold rush were still on and anyone could hit the motherlode at any time.
To my L.A.-skeptic friends who are reading this from elsewhere in the world, let me set your minds at ease: I have not gone soft, despite that last paragraph. I still have plenty of gripes about this place, and you will get to read some of them here. I’m setting up a new category in my weblog for L.A. stories, and I intend to write about some of my experiences and observations as a newcomer here. I don’t think I’ll run out of material — just time.