Wow, downtown LA, you sure know how to show a girl a good time. Oh wait, no you don't. You know how to scare the hell out of someone though.
When you move to a new place, it is important to take it in like a stray cat. Or dog, or insert animal with potential of being a stray of your choice here. Given the fact that I have zero friends with which to occupy my time, I have been able to unleash my inner mental cartographer (or whatever you call the people who make maps) and wander the different parts of Los Angeles and neighboring regions. So far, I have dined with the rich and ramous in ritzy Beverly Hills, spent the night watching a movie under the stars in Hollywood, got my beach fix in Malibu and Santa Monica, tried my patience in traffic getting to and from LAX and mingled with students at UCLA and Westwood.
Heeding the warnings of many back home that Downtown LA is seedy to say the least, I decided that the best time to check out the area (being a single lady and all) would be during the day. I figured it would be practical to get to know the region, and, I admit it, I wanted to see where 500 Days of Summer was filmed.
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I had previously mentioned "taking in the city" like you take in a stray animal. Well, in the case of Los Angeles, that stray animal is a chameleon or a bi-polar bear. That place changes on a dime- one block will be clean and safe and the next, even one on the same street, you will find yourself looking over your shoulder and clutching your bag just a little tighter to your side.
First stepping foot in the finace district at 6th and Flower, my eyes widened in awe. Tall buildings loomed overhead, each bearing the title of a famous bank, and the streets were clean and practically uninhabited. The sentiment that I wish I had chosen to live there instead and the thought that everyone who told me it was a dangerous area should be thrown in the nut house hit me square in the face. I walked a little further, however, and retracted the aforementioned thoughts. I am happy to be near Beverly Hills, thank you very much.
I continued my educational stroll through the financial district until I arrived at the Walt Disney Concert Hall, essentially a replica of the Guggenheim in Bibao, Spain. At this point, I still felt safe, and wondered what all of the hubub saying otherwise stemmed from. Well, I was about to find out. I turned down 1st, and walked all the way to Los Angeles Ave (how cocky of you, Los Angeles, to name a street after yourself! Sheesh, show some humility!). Then I took a right down Main, and everything changed, chameleon style.
I was instantly terrified of the shady characters hanging around, and even as I ventured further into the heart of downtown, it almost got worse. In broad daylight, I witnissed three drug deals by people with no attempt of hiding it whatsoever. Where are the cops at those moments? I tried to take mental note of the street blocks that freaked me out, but eventually my mental notepad reached capacity so I just scratched the idea of ever returning downtown alone, daytime or otherwise.
When you move to a new place, it is important to take it in like a stray cat. Or dog, or insert animal with potential of being a stray of your choice here. Given the fact that I have zero friends with which to occupy my time, I have been able to unleash my inner mental cartographer (or whatever you call the people who make maps) and wander the different parts of Los Angeles and neighboring regions. So far, I have dined with the rich and ramous in ritzy Beverly Hills, spent the night watching a movie under the stars in Hollywood, got my beach fix in Malibu and Santa Monica, tried my patience in traffic getting to and from LAX and mingled with students at UCLA and Westwood.
Heeding the warnings of many back home that Downtown LA is seedy to say the least, I decided that the best time to check out the area (being a single lady and all) would be during the day. I figured it would be practical to get to know the region, and, I admit it, I wanted to see where 500 Days of Summer was filmed.
.JPG)
First stepping foot in the finace district at 6th and Flower, my eyes widened in awe. Tall buildings loomed overhead, each bearing the title of a famous bank, and the streets were clean and practically uninhabited. The sentiment that I wish I had chosen to live there instead and the thought that everyone who told me it was a dangerous area should be thrown in the nut house hit me square in the face. I walked a little further, however, and retracted the aforementioned thoughts. I am happy to be near Beverly Hills, thank you very much.
I continued my educational stroll through the financial district until I arrived at the Walt Disney Concert Hall, essentially a replica of the Guggenheim in Bibao, Spain. At this point, I still felt safe, and wondered what all of the hubub saying otherwise stemmed from. Well, I was about to find out. I turned down 1st, and walked all the way to Los Angeles Ave (how cocky of you, Los Angeles, to name a street after yourself! Sheesh, show some humility!). Then I took a right down Main, and everything changed, chameleon style.
I was instantly terrified of the shady characters hanging around, and even as I ventured further into the heart of downtown, it almost got worse. In broad daylight, I witnissed three drug deals by people with no attempt of hiding it whatsoever. Where are the cops at those moments? I tried to take mental note of the street blocks that freaked me out, but eventually my mental notepad reached capacity so I just scratched the idea of ever returning downtown alone, daytime or otherwise.
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