The last time I was in an airport or on a plane was January/February of 2020 when my mom and I went to Atlanta and Alabama. I remember on the flight home the woman behind us had to get her bag checked because she was carrying a bunch of respirator masks. She was flying to California to monitor cruise ship ports. It jolted me a little, but then I promptly forgot about it. This woman was a sign we were being proactive, right?
I scheduled my flight banking on my ability to get both vaccine shots before I left. While I was in California, Biden announced the end of the mask mandate for vaccinated folks. I wasn’t prepared for how quick things were moving. Being the airport, my largest crown in 1.5 years, was unsettling, surreal. It felt illicit but exciting and familiar at the same time.
I flew in to SFO on a full plane and took BART then CalTrain to San Jose, where my lovely cousin Taylor picked me up. We drove straight through Bay Area rush hour to Salinas and spent the next few days exploring Point Lobos, Big Sur, Carmel-By-The-Sea, and Monterey. Our Airbnb had goats. People were still mostly masked. Carmel was busy, but still not quite how I imagined it would have been two years ago.
From Big Sur, my friend Anuraag and I spent a full day cruising down to Los Angeles, stopping in Solvang (American’s Little Denmark) and San Luis Obispo. He lives in the Arts District (right next to the building where New Girl was filmed), where I worked remotely from 6 am to 3 pm. From there, I hit the streets.
I checked out ROW DTLA, an enclave of upper-middle-class Millennial hipsters seemingly eating nothing but plants and green juice. It was nearly vacant, which added to its magic. It is a redevelopment of the former American Apparel factory, still pink and looming large, but now filled with offices, cafes, design shops, boutiques, and artist collectives.
I strolled through Little Tokyo to get to downtown LA. I smelled urine and Le Labo in the same air current, was reminded of how close extreme wealth and extreme poverty live in cities, kept being surprised by murals, and delighted in overhearing strangers again.
On Friday, we took a Lyft to Griffith Park, hiked up to the top and looked out at how enormous and hilly and sprawling LA is. We then walked six more miles through Silver Lake and Highland Park neighborhoods, stopping for burritos, vegan donuts, and Thai food along the way.
We ventured to Angeles National Forest and almost got trapped at the top (turns out app-based carshare programs have a critical operating error if you drive them to places above the clouds with no service).
I’ve always loved California, but had weird ideas about LA as a place too cool for me. However, living there for a week made it feel much more approachable than popping in and out as a quick tourist. We scooted around to get tacos, grilled outdoors without the worry of bugs or bad weather, had happy hour in an art museum courtyard where celebrities were spotted.
All in all, it was the perfect forced re-entry. How novel to miss my husband and cats, after a year of seeing almost no one else!
