That's the Way It Is
Thursday, May 14, 2009
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Koreatown
1 comments
South Pasadena Farmer's Market
Monday, May 11, 2009
Labels:
los angeles,
writing
5
comments
So…this past Thursday, I attended what I consider one of the finer Farmer’s Markets in the metro area, South Pasadena’s. Though I had been before, namely an excursion sometime last October (or was it November?), I felt it was worth yet another, closer look and visit. Before, while it was evident the Farmer’s Market was the pride, if not joy of the quaint, suburban locale, I was with company, and it was their very presence that hindered any real observations. This time I came alone, to allow for greater independence, mobility and freedom, and most importantly, to properly enjoy the event.
Upon my arrival to the market, I found myself again in awe by what seemed like was the whole community out in support of their cherished and esteemed market. My initial observations and impressions were the as stated above, the sheer size of the event. I’m talking EVERYBODY was there, in true neighborhood harmony and spirit. There seemed to be a vendor and stall for practically every cuisine under the sun – something myself, a self-proclaimed foodie, was definitely fond of. I decided to order an herb-seasoned chicken that was spit roasted, with the drippings falling below onto herb potatoes, along with a slice of pita bread. The chicken, of course was delicious; marinated with seemingly a galaxy of herbs, something that provided for a succulent, tender meal. In addition to the heavily trafficked chicken vendor, there were a myriad of other culinary options, including fresh fare from El Salvador, the Eastern Mediterranean and Levantine, France, Mexico, as well as the obligatory American heartland classics. Despite the extensive arsenal of culinary options and traditions present, as well as the many people, I felt taken aback by the friendliness of the people.
Living in the city, it’s rare and utterly uncommon to be showered with compliments and unfettered happiness. Doing those things is a good way to be branded a weirdo, freak, perv, or psychopath. Having been sheltered in the city for pretty much my whole life, I’ve grown used and accustomed to behavior that is rude, smug, arrogant, mean, etc, you name it and I’ve probably been on the receiving end of it. Is this generally overt, outward happiness and joy the result of a higher quality of living? Are the fabled suburbs all they are made out to be? At any rate, from my urban outsider observations, it seemed deceptive, fake and even a bit cliquish and non-inclusionary (since it was only locals) – a true mirror of the sometimes shallow, superficial and sterile, prefabricated master planned communities suburbs themselves are.
Upon my arrival to the market, I found myself again in awe by what seemed like was the whole community out in support of their cherished and esteemed market. My initial observations and impressions were the as stated above, the sheer size of the event. I’m talking EVERYBODY was there, in true neighborhood harmony and spirit. There seemed to be a vendor and stall for practically every cuisine under the sun – something myself, a self-proclaimed foodie, was definitely fond of. I decided to order an herb-seasoned chicken that was spit roasted, with the drippings falling below onto herb potatoes, along with a slice of pita bread. The chicken, of course was delicious; marinated with seemingly a galaxy of herbs, something that provided for a succulent, tender meal. In addition to the heavily trafficked chicken vendor, there were a myriad of other culinary options, including fresh fare from El Salvador, the Eastern Mediterranean and Levantine, France, Mexico, as well as the obligatory American heartland classics. Despite the extensive arsenal of culinary options and traditions present, as well as the many people, I felt taken aback by the friendliness of the people.
Living in the city, it’s rare and utterly uncommon to be showered with compliments and unfettered happiness. Doing those things is a good way to be branded a weirdo, freak, perv, or psychopath. Having been sheltered in the city for pretty much my whole life, I’ve grown used and accustomed to behavior that is rude, smug, arrogant, mean, etc, you name it and I’ve probably been on the receiving end of it. Is this generally overt, outward happiness and joy the result of a higher quality of living? Are the fabled suburbs all they are made out to be? At any rate, from my urban outsider observations, it seemed deceptive, fake and even a bit cliquish and non-inclusionary (since it was only locals) – a true mirror of the sometimes shallow, superficial and sterile, prefabricated master planned communities suburbs themselves are.
The Face of The City
Sunday, May 3, 2009
Labels:
los angeles,
May Day 2009,
writing
4
comments
Hello readers,
Firstly, my apologies once again for the real dearth of posts as of late. I’ve been plenty busy taking photos, exploring and intermingling with The City, the built urban environment and most importantly, its locals. And as further exploration, both on and below the surface will effortlessly reveal, Los Angeles is truly a, if not the city of immigrants.
In my spare time, I’ve explored many locales over the course of the past few weeks, some new and some old. However, present in all of locales, is a similar trend, one that unifies and gives them a common grounding. This trend I speak of is the almost ubiquitous presence and domination of and by the immigrants, and the working class demographic associated with them In LA anyways, I’ve found that for the most part, the two are broadly interchangeable, and are more or less variables, accompanying each other. Unlike in other cities, such as Boston or San Francisco, which by contrast are boutique cities and have already cemented their image, LA by contrast is messy, uncouth and constantly evolving. I mean, the LA of 25 or even 50 years ago is a drastically different beast from the LA as of current. Present at the helm of this continually evolving state, and having been for some time, lies the working class population, a population that has pretty much come to define Los Angeles. That reminds me, Los Angeles IS a banana republic and anybody who thinks otherwise is in denial. The trappings are everywhere, but perhaps none is more telling than the stark class and wealth differences present. I mean; to put things into context we’re talking a city, which by American standards has no real middle class to speak of, yet single handedly has more billionaires than all of Europe.
Now, this isn’t the end of this topic or subject, but is merely the introduction, the tip of the iceberg; I’ll be exploring and looking more into this over the course of the weeks to follow. Without further adieu, allow me to properly showcase the main, defining ingredient of this city, its strong proletariat base:
Firstly, my apologies once again for the real dearth of posts as of late. I’ve been plenty busy taking photos, exploring and intermingling with The City, the built urban environment and most importantly, its locals. And as further exploration, both on and below the surface will effortlessly reveal, Los Angeles is truly a, if not the city of immigrants.
In my spare time, I’ve explored many locales over the course of the past few weeks, some new and some old. However, present in all of locales, is a similar trend, one that unifies and gives them a common grounding. This trend I speak of is the almost ubiquitous presence and domination of and by the immigrants, and the working class demographic associated with them In LA anyways, I’ve found that for the most part, the two are broadly interchangeable, and are more or less variables, accompanying each other. Unlike in other cities, such as Boston or San Francisco, which by contrast are boutique cities and have already cemented their image, LA by contrast is messy, uncouth and constantly evolving. I mean, the LA of 25 or even 50 years ago is a drastically different beast from the LA as of current. Present at the helm of this continually evolving state, and having been for some time, lies the working class population, a population that has pretty much come to define Los Angeles. That reminds me, Los Angeles IS a banana republic and anybody who thinks otherwise is in denial. The trappings are everywhere, but perhaps none is more telling than the stark class and wealth differences present. I mean; to put things into context we’re talking a city, which by American standards has no real middle class to speak of, yet single handedly has more billionaires than all of Europe.
Now, this isn’t the end of this topic or subject, but is merely the introduction, the tip of the iceberg; I’ll be exploring and looking more into this over the course of the weeks to follow. Without further adieu, allow me to properly showcase the main, defining ingredient of this city, its strong proletariat base:
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