Locomotoring

LA is the land that generated hard-boiled genre where dangerous liaisons occurred on streets named Mullholand Drive. Now, the maze of highways crisscrossing the city makes one wonder how Marlowe would go about saving the damsel in distress – aided by a GPS navigator?

This trip, our hotel was in downtown LA.  In spite of the crazy location next to multiple intersecting highways, I loved our hotel. From the window, I had a view of the shiny steel shell of Walt Disney Concert Hall. The lobby had people dressed in clothes – not just your  typical hiker’s gear – clothes that looked nice on perfectly sculpted bosoms. From our hotel, the world’s shortest incorporated railroad was but a five minute walk away – a funicular named Angles Flight that went up and down a block.

Hot peppers at Grand Central Market

We paid a quarter each to ride to our destination – the Grand Central Market – the kind that Anthony Bourdain recommends – a market for the people, by the people.  Couple of Mexican food stands sell everything from pigs snout to beef cheek and goat bellies with corn tortillas and salsas. There were mounds of chilli peppers everywhere and shops selling colorful desserts – shades of pink and blue that possibly glow in the dark. The market offered some Chinese eateries as well – the menu was translated into Mexican and primarily catering to Mexican clientele. Couple of handsome young cops came swaggering in for their breakfast burritos, looking oh so hot, in their cowboy hats.  Small shops selling trinkets and liquor and soft drinks, next to pawn shops and check cashing joints, a minimalist massage table next to the meat shop – the kind where towels and sheets are not changed. While the salsas were uninteresting, the farmer’s market ambiance felt genuine enough – I could have been standing on the other side of the border. Not that I have been to the other side of the border but it is how one would imagine the other side of the border to be like.

For more photos from the LA trip, click here.