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December in California

February 25, 2016

 

I spent the past December holidays in Los Angeles, California. It was a new experience for me, as it always is every time I visit. On the one hand, I get to see my daughter flourish in her own way, and at her own pace. On the other, I have the opportunity to appreciate the west coast more, and from a new point of view.

My surroundings make a big and deep impression on me. For that reason, it takes me a while to discern an opinion susceptible to be described. I don’t know why—maybe because at the end of my stay I had to leave my daughter behind—my memories are impregnated with melancholia. One that pushes me to long for the places I visited, the restaurants I ate at, the people I interacted with, and the laughter, so much laughter.

For instance, we were having dinner at Little Dom’s in Los Feliz, laughing our hearts out about a funny remark my husband inserted in the conversation, when I saw Will Ferrell heading a long table. That was a happy coincidence. I really like him, I particularly enjoy his impression of George W. Bush—it’s hysterical. Will is a tall man, and from where I stood I could see he had great manners.

Another wonderful encounter took place in Malibu. We went for drinks at Geoffrey’s, that day was so windy, so much so the waiter had to go downhill chasing the menus. It was cold too, but they hurried to add around us two of those heaters that look like lamps, and all of a sudden the environment became cozier, helped by the breathtaking sea views and the sun setting into the horizon. Right before it was time to go, we went to the restroom, and going back to our table, my daughter and I saw her: it was Betsey Johnson, the fashion designer, looking at me with a big smile on her face. I admire her. She dares to be who she is, and she is so gracious. Her smile put a smile on my face. We finally left, but not before the sun completely sunk into the horizon.

On the other side of the spectrum, it was Christmas Eve, late at night. My husband and I were quickly going back to our hotel on foot when I heard an electronic sound coming from under a blue tarp that seemed to be covering a pile of construction debris, and immediately after we heard a human voice, coming from under the tarp, that said: “Merry Christmas.” “Merry Christmas to you too,” I answered. My heart sunk. It was late, dark, and cold when we crossed the street, leaving that man behind. And yet, a warm feeling overcame me. How in the world a human being in the worst of his situation could have a warm thought for me, who didn’t deserve it? It was a gift I will cherish forever.

California is a state of many colors, from the extremely wealthy, and their perching castles, to the destitute, struggling to be able to see another day. Los Angeles is many worlds at once, overwhelming at times, and breathtaking one way or another. A place that I will keep visiting, because my daughter is building her life around all those contradictions of wealth and despair. Her determination is making me rethink the way things work, and how much we can do for ourselves and those around us.

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