Culver City, CA

There was a time when people from New York City just said, "I'm from New York." The 'city' was implied and their borough never mentioned when few outside of the city knew how many there were let alone their names. Now, Brooklyn is B.I.G. (pun definitely intended). And Queens, the Bronx, and Staten Island steadily gaining some r.e.s.p.e.c.t. But wait, what about Manhattan? Well, as witnessed through my cousin eyes who came to visit from Portugal -- "It looks exactly like the movies!!" -- for me, Manhattan is the O.G. The NYC seen and awed worldwide.

What my cousin might not know is how a good number of movies are filmed in studios lots, where "NYC" looks more like NYC than the city itself at the moment. (How long before yellow cabs are extinct? Yes, I'm looking at you Uber, Lyft, Gett, and any Othr ride-share app.) But what I didn't know (not much!) until I travelled west, is how most of those studio lots are in "Culver City, where Hollywood Movies are made."

Westwood, Los Angeles, CA

Whoa, Nelly. What the hell is going on with the three-tier title for this post? Well, to knock one of my favourite hooks of the 90's, "It ain't my fault". You know how people say L.A. is a sprawling city? I didn't grasp the full breadth of its sprawlingness up until today. For 2.5 hours my research included Santa Monica, Hollywood, Venice, Beverly Hills and the like. Some of these places are separate cities and some communities within the city of Los Angeles. For a city on the laid-back coast, ya pretty complicated L.A.

But I came to learn of Westwood through a neighbourhood within its community (I know, can L.A. dissect itself once more?) named Little Persia; or, better known and made official by Google Maps as Tehrangeles*. And it's about time if you ask me. As a kid, I always wondered why America didn't have more towns like Chinatown on its maps. If we're a melting pot then I wanted to know where all the seasoning was, you know?

"There's a section of L.A. that feels like Tehran, there's even an ice cream shop that sells saffron ice cream!"
"WHAT?! Tell me more, tell me more!" To a friend as I fought the urge not to colonize our conversation with Americana (i.e. "Grease"). (Hey, it was a summer ritual for me in my teens.)

(To all the health nuts, the bright yellow hue is not from turmeric -- control yourselves)

Joshua Tree, CA

Though I didn't do it then, I'm doing it now. Listening to U2's The Joshua Tree while writing about Joshua Tree, CA. Oh, how typically predictable can I be? Then again, it never crossed my mind to listen to the album when I was there. On top of that, I chose not to set foot in Joshua Tree National Park. And you wonder if the town's name is a misnomer? It's not, the park is roughly 10 minutes away.

So what exactly happened? More on that later. For now, know that a mojo buried deep within me was somehow disinterred in this small desert enclave.

National Parks, CA

Did you know California has the most national parks out of any other state? It has nine. Nine?! I'm surprised but shouldn't be considering it has everything else, beaches, mountains, sun, good Mexican for two bucks, I could go on. It's Marcia Brady of the fifty states. Is there anything this state doesn't have? Oh, wait, money. I didn't watch the show religiously, but Jan did seem like the smartest Brady. (It was probably the glasses --dumb TV stereotypes corrupting my young brain!)

Back to the nine national parks, thus far I've been to two. These are pictures from the second one, Death Valley National Park. The first national park I visited in California, in America to be precise, was Sequoia. I went there when I was seven or eight. If I cared about photography then I might be a professional photographer by now. Regardless, I was too busy estimating the possibility of Jack's beanstalk or if any of the giant sequoias could produce a giant peach. It's the best national park for kids because suddenly make-believe seems pretty darn real next to this. Yeah, slap me silly next time I complain about my childhood.

View from Dante's Peak

Death Valley Junction, CA

Today I was offered a used iPhone for free. It's in mint condition, yet, I'm conflicted. Holding it in one hand and my dumbphone in the other, I began to compare and wonder about things far beyond its extra weight. If a majority of the population has a smartphone in the future, will we communicate more through images and less with language? Will language matter less and less in a foreign country when I can Google and point to an image of what I'm trying to eat or visit? I wonder how many more pictures the internet has since smartphones? Does the internet really need another travel blog with tons of pictures? Nope, I wasn't exaggerating when I wrote, "far beyond" :)

Seriously though, the internet is practically a Chuck Close painting. It doesn't need a "new" perspective when my perspective has mostly likely been captured and uploaded in the time it takes me to write a post because of my technological deficiency. Consequently, I'm only going to share one image per location. Thankfully you only need one picture to capture Death Valley Junction, its junction, and its main attraction, the Amargosa Hotel. Nope, still not exaggerating.

San Francisco, CA

Sometimes, actually most of the time, we learn the most about ourselves from our friendships. For years, I had wondered who molded my hippie bent. Certainly not from my family, nor my extended family, until one day a dear friend exclaimed, "So that's why you're a hippie -- your elementary school teachers!".

How could I have overlooked this when even as a wee one I mathematically figured that, excluding sleeping hours, I spent more time with my teachers than my parents? They're the ones who introduced me to salamanders and Carl Sandburg. My English teacher wasn't certain if his poem Fog was actually about San Francisco but her description of the city was heavenly. Subconsciously I must have wanted to keep it that way because I made no effort to visit it until it was absolutely necessary. Another friend told me I have to stop living inside my head so much. He's right, my fantasies were shattered into diamonds. San Francisco is achingly beautiful, the heavens have literally descended here.

Los Angeles, CA

I admire anyone trying to learn English as their second language. It's no joke. They'll master the grammar fairly quickly, but the subtle meanings for one word are astounding. No dictionary is going to list every known definition. Take the word crazy, there's the literal definition but it's often used to describe a place. New York City is crazy, so is Los Angeles, but they're crazy in completely different ways. How to explain this to someone who asks, "What's Los Angeles like?" Sometimes it's best to let images speak for themselves, even moving images. Most movies tell a story about a character, some about a place through the characters, and you only need to watch Crash and Mulholland Drive to come to know the crazy which defines Los Angeles.

Don't worry, I didn't forget you Mr. or Ms. "I don't have the time to watch two two-hour long movies?!" Here are my favourite images of L.A., starting with downtown L.A.'s woodland themed cafeteria known as Clifton's. One word, awesome.