Visiting LA

EARLIER THIS month one of my best friends from high school, Mariah, unexpectedly called me up to tell me “Hey, I’m in LA, when can I see you?” I was quite excited, but I am also not the most spontaneous person - my days that week were precisely planned with exactly what I needed to get done in order to prevent procrastination and excessive stress. So her and her friend, who had driven the entire way here, crashed on my couch for a few days. They had a car and everything, but they waited until Friday night to go out. They just hung out in my apartment, both when I was there and when I was in class. If I had driven so far, I would for sure be maximizing my time wherever I was. They had no idea how lucky they were! A free night on a weekday to explore? I would kill for that, and not just because Thursday night is the night all the celebrities come out - according to the paparazzi my friend Lauren and I had befriended one random Saturday night. 

When they did go out, they wanted to go to Hollywood and Highland. That’s the same place my other friend Lyndsay wanted to go when she visited. And then they wanted to eat at Saddle Ranch. They went to Venice, and the Santa Monica Pier. I’ve been to all these places - except Saddle Ranch - but I kept trying to tell her that there are so many other places in Los Angeles that are much cooler and more interesting. But they insisted, because it was Mariah’s first time here. Are we only allowed to find that out after we’ve visited all the touristy places? They’re not all LA has to offer, but maybe you come to the city and think you’re missing out if you don’t see all the stereotypical places for yourself. What they didn’t know was that, by only going to those places, they actually ended up missing out on a lot. But then again, maybe you have to experience the stereotype in order to be able to move beyond it. 

-- Allie Flinn

Photo Credit: from Flickr, taken by Shawn S. ParkVi

The Mysterious Taco Truck

Carne Asada Tacos

THERE IS  is a taco truck that is parked just down the street from me. It is there every day, except Sunday, until 5 pm. I would walk my dog by it, and there would always be at least one or two people ordering or waiting for food, but I was always too weirded out by food prepared in a truck to try it. I’m going to refer to it as the “taco truck” because I have no idea what it is called. I looked for the name once, but the only was able to find a picture of an octopus. This makes more sense now, because I just went to Yelp and searched for “taco truck” in Marina del Rey and a couple of the reviews said it is known for their seafood. It was pretty nondescript - just a white truck with blue “fins” that identified it as a food truck.


I was still wary of all food trucks, but then I watched “The Great Food Truck Race” on the Food Network. I decided I didn’t need to be afraid of food trucks, especially since they seem to be a pretty big deal in LA. But I still only went to the ones that had been featured on the show because I am super concerned of germs and very picky about where the food I eat is prepared. I figured if they were on the food network they were probably okay.


Finally, one day I was sitting in my apartment and I was really hungry. Looking through my fridge, I didn’t really have anything to eat and, besides, the only thing that sounded good was... a taco. I debated internally for a few minutes before I grabbed some cash (I was quite the food truck aficionado at this point and was well aware most only take cash), put my black Pomeranian on his leash, and walked to the taco truck. I hadn’t taken Spanish in years, but luckily I really paid attention to the classes on food, which prevented me from ordering a tongue taco instead of a steak taco. It was one of the best tacos I have ever eaten. Its now my “go to” lunch spot if I don’t feel like making anything, or have anything to make. And now I finally know its name: Guillen’s La Playita Taco Truck.

-- Allie Flinn

Photo Credit: found on Yelp, taken by Jason R.

Coordinates: 6067 Wilshire

Photo Credit: Myself

The Miracle Mile District is bordered by the Fairfax District, Hancock Park, Mid-City, West Pico, and Carthay. I never even knew that it existed, yet I have been down the Wilshire Stretch of the district many times. Wilshire Boulevard, west of Western Avenue, used to be a farm road, before becoming a part of the Pacific Electric Railroad System. But developer A.W. Ross saw its potential and set out on a journey to make it a commercial district that would cater to automobile traffic, rather than foot traffic. Many retailers and department stores were built, in a fashion so as to attract the most attention from cars, on this strip of Wilshire. Among them was the May Company, a department store chain that went out of business in 1993. Many of its stores were turned into Macy’s.

But not the May Company Building on Wilshire. This building, easily recognizable by the gold cylinder on its front, was acquired by LACMA and sits on the western end of Museum Row. It is now known as LACMA West. It is an impressive building, one that I have seen before but never paid much attention to because there are many other things to look at. It was built in 1939 and LACMA bought it in 1994 and moved some of their staff into it. While you can not go inside the building (yet), LACMA’s blog has some wonderful photos of what the portions that have not converted look like now. There is an outstanding employees Walk of Fame, a space for candy refrigeration, and a grid through which employees would look to make sure no one was shoplifting (before security cameras). The building was featured in many old movies, such as “Volcano” and “The Star.” The outside of the building looks virtually unchanged, except the giant letters spelling out MAY CO. have been taken off but not replaced with anything yet.

Photo Credit: taken from the LACMA blog

The building in 1976. Photo credit: found online on University of Washington's Digital Collection

Last year, there were talks of converting the space into a motion picture museum. LACMA and The Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences teamed up to put this together, however they are still working on fundraising and picking out an architect. 

-- Allie Flinn

Genius Loci: The "Spirit" of LA

 A famous comedian's house with a scary secret...

 A murder-suicide with many unanswered questions

A movie theater with a not so silent history 

Celebrating 40 years of laughter... and terror 

Surprisingly, many celebrities are still spotted here...

From Shepherd's Pie to "Sexy Tuesdays" and Back Again: Life at the Cock n' Bull Pub

WHEN DRIVING  by the Cock n’ Bull pub, the only thing that makes it stand out from the many other businesses on that stretch of Lincoln Boulevard is the big red British phone booth. The building is a bit old and faded, the door is wide open allowing you a glimpse of the patrons inside, and occasionally a person or two stand outside with plumes of smoke trailing out of their cigarettes. You might pass it by. Los Angeles is a made place furthered by establishments that run on gimmicks instead of authenticity. The Cock n Bull, a rare unpretentious establishment, could have been one of those places.

Julie Bray, who moved to Los Angeles 20 years ago, remembers a time when the only patrons at the Cock n Bull pub were elderly British gentlemen. Bray and her friends had a penchant for dive bars, and when they found the pub in 2001 it seemed like perfection - authentic, with excellent Shepherd’s Pie, and decidedly not crowded. “The average number of patrons even on a Friday or Saturday night was about 10,” says Bray, a welcome escape from the popular sweaty crowded dive bars or, perhaps worse, the uncrowded dive bars that were that way for a reason. The Cock n Bull had no reason not to be crowded, and Bray and her friends were not going to be the only ones to discover that.  

In the four years they frequented the pub, at any given time, Bray and her friends were the only women in the pub. This earned them the nickname “the girls” from the bartender. “We’d walk in and Dave, one of the bartenders and half owner of the bar, would call out ‘the girls are here,’” Bray says, though the only people there to hear him were the 70-80 year old men who, no matter the time of day, had been drinking for hours.

Given the limited conversation options, Bray spent a lot of time talking to Dave. “He even gave me a ton of barware to use on the tiki bar at my apartment,” says Bray. For her, with its dim lights and unique clientele, it was a haven away from the busy city.

That all changed the day the Cock n Bull was listed on one of the local TV stations as the best sport’s bar in LA, because it would open up at two in the morning every Saturday and Sunday to televise soccer games live from the UK. 

“After the television story it became really popular,” recalls Bray, “and it was crowded every night with up and coming hipsters.” Aside from the change in population, the bar’s appearance also took on a new vibe. The beloved Shepherd’s Pie was taken off the menu because it required so much time to prepare, and the bar, once lovingly dim, became more heavily lit. “No dive bar looks better with the lights on,” says Bray. Even the die hard, elderly British men were driven out of their spots. 

Before then, the only time the faded walls of the bar had been filled side-to-side was on the night of the Australian Rules Grand Final, an event Bray describes as “the Australian version of the Super Bowl.” Bray only attended one more Grand Final after the television story ran, because though she was used to the crowd on game night, that time she recalls, “The crowd was much different than before. A little edgier, a little angrier. So it was hot, annoying, and a little scary.”

As far as entertainment goes, Bray and her friends did just fine with the televisions, dartboards, and ratty pool tables. Now the pub offers theme nights like Thursday night trivia and “sexy” Tuesday salsa lessons. 

Sexy is the last word that comes to mind when picturing the pub. The lights are far too harsh and flickering to be sexy, and so are the clientele. On a recent Friday night, on the far side of the bar, tucked away in a corner a little darker than the rest of the room, are the remnants of the hipsters who came because of the television show. They sit and watch the door, looking each person who comes in up and down, as if they were the ones who discovered the place. Tight pants and beanies, with dyed hair and too cool glances, they thrive in the dark corner like unwelcoming moss.

Another group sits near the door and the dartboard, laughing and talking in voices tinged with British accents. They sit as if they are regulars, and unlike the posing group in the corner, greet visitors with friendly looks. The long bar with it’s tall seats, at first only punctuated with the occasional person, begins to fill up and fill in as the night goes on. Only one bartender works this Friday night. He is Dave, and he recommends the Carlsberg beer and speaks in a soft voice with a heavy accent.

It is the kind of place where you fear to use the ketchup bottles. A modern jukebox, mounted on the wall, is a jarring juxtaposition from the clear, shiny, faded, old beer signs that hang framed on the walls, along with a dartboard and a row of old guns that are lined up on a rafter near the ceiling. Behind that rafter are the pool tables, and a game is going on between a group of men who look like they go to a lot of dive bars. Though more people come in the later it gets, it only hints at the fickle crowds that used to come. Perhaps on game days it picks up. 

A mural of John Lennon provides a backdrop for a small raised platform that functions as a stage on live music nights.

The lights are too bright. An elderly British man sits at the bar, eyes glued to the TV, speaking only to dispute football (English, not American) with Dave. He stays there through all of the comings and goings that Friday night, on a stool that wasn’t chosen at random.

And the Shepherd’s Pie is back on the menu.

Photo via Cock n' Bull's Facebook page

Ani Phyo: Modern Day Warrior

ACROSS LOS ANGELES and Southern California a photo of Ani Phyo loomed over the cities on billboards and bus stops, establishing her as more than just a raw foods chef chef. This photo, in soft black and white, featured Phyo with a determined expression as a colorful feathered headdress sat atop her head. This was a part of Sambazon’s Warrior Up campaign, which drew attention to Warriors of Change: people like Phyo who are involved in positive changes in the world. In the everyday, Phyo is softer but no less determined than her photo would have you believe.

Phyo is a raw foods chef, which means that the only ingredients she uses are fruits, nuts, and vegetables: all of which are not cooked. At all. “There’s a lot of raw food in LA, but I give mine a high end presentation,” Phyo says without an ounce of vanity, though she describes the other raw foods found in LA as more “comfort-food” in their style. This is only part of the reason Phyo was given a billboard and a headdress. Her raw food lifestyle has led her to work with several organizations in Los Angeles.

“I just want to help people live life better,” Phyo says. She was involved with a group called the Pedal Patch Community, which works on building community gardens in what Phyo describes as “food deserts” - places with no grocery stores nearby. “I was able to bring in the component I was working with,” she says of her involvement. She worked with at risk youth and did food demos for them to show them how to create healthy and delicious raw food meals from the gardens.

The Pedal Patch community relocated to San Francisco, but Phyo decided to continue to put her talents to use here in Los Angeles. Going with the flow of things (she swears her raw diet has helped her relax and become more easygoing, but still focused) is one of Phyo’s strong points. She turned her attention to other organizations with similar initiatives. Community Services Unlimited is such an organization, working in the downtown area to build community gardens in community spaces. “They even have been able to build some in the schools,” Phyo says excitedly. “It’s really cool.”

This organization promotes healthier foods with the goal of helping communities become self-sustaining - something Phyo has a strong interest in seeing happen.

She’s lived in many big cities all over the world, but something is keeping her in Los Angeles for the time being, though even she may not be sure what it is. Her desire to spread the benefits of the lifestyle of raw foods began as a packaged foods company in Portland, Oregon and has translated into something much more, culminating in her time in this city.

Phyo leads a hectic life - currently she’s working on her fifth book in the midst of running a web show and fending off offers from the Food Network - but manages to make room for another organization: Project Angelfood.

“I work in the kitchen and help prepare the food,” says Phyo of the time she spends with the all volunteer organization, which makes food and delivers it to people suffering from HIV/AIDS. The giving and receiving of food is something this perpetually on-the-go woman understands as healing and deeply important. It is a way of forging human connections while at the same time providing nourishment for the body.

It is no wonder, then, that Phyo emphasizes that “I try to embody this lifestyle in everything I do.”

The one thing she won’t do is television. She prefers the internet, which can reach a global audience. “TV Networks keep coming to me,” she says, but she continues to say no. “They’ll see my food next to Mario Battalli or, what’s that southern chef’s name?” She pauses, a rare occurrence.

She finally thinks of the name. “Paula Dean.” And she’s off again.

“They’ll see me next to them and they won’t get my food, because its so different,” Phyo says. “Sure, sometime, if the time is right,” she may concede to do a television show.

Phyo began to understand the concept of a raw foods diet when she was young. She cites her dad as the source of her initiation into the lifestyle. “My dad taught me a lot,” she says of her father, who was terminally ill. “It kept him alive 10-15 years longer than expected.”

But it wasn’t until Phyo began living a hectic and busy lifestyle that she began to truly feel the benefits herself and make the connections between food and life that led her to this moment; a moment focused on helping others realize these same connections for themselves.

“People need to understand the concept of the raw food in order to embrace it,” she says.

-- Allie Flinn

image Ani Phyo by Jennifer Pickens via Flickr Creative Commons

A Piercing Experience

LAST WEEKEND, I finally decided to get my ears pierced. It was something I had been promised in exchange for good grades by my parents many (many many many many) years ago, and they never bothered to make an appointment and gradually I just stopped asking.

Since it was something I had always wanted, it was time.

So I went to Yelp, hoping that would narrow down my options. But the thing about reviews is that there could be a slew of positive feedback, and then you come across someone with a negative experience, and it puts doubt in your mind, and that’s it. Over. On to the next place. There were too many options, and since my friends had all had their ears pierced long before coming out to LA, I couldn’t rely on their first hand accounts.

In my hometown of Bend, Oregon, there wouldn’t have been so many options. If you type “piercing” into Yelp for Bend, you get six results - one of which is a Claire’s. The same search for Los Angeles yields 151 results. Narrowing it down to Marina del Rey still gets 29 results. In a city that has everything, usually in multiples, how do you choose?

I ended up at Ink Monkey Tattoo, just down a ways on Lincoln. It did not have as many reviews as other places I was considering, but I had seen it before and though it did not look like a place I would normally go, it was somewhat familiar. It was out of my comfort zone and a little scary. I almost didn’t go in.

Sometimes you can’t rely on the experiences of others, you have to go out and make your own. That is what I find so exciting (and at the same time frustrating) about this city. There is an endless supply of options. And, besides just getting my ears pierced, I got something else out of it as well. I already knew tattoo artists were that: artists, but I never realized how much art goes into piercing as well. Jason, the piercer, was very proud of all his work, telling me about the cheek piercing he did on the woman who had walked into the store after me and making sure I knew about his gallery on the shop’s website - and he was definitely not telling me because he thought I would be a repeat customer.

Even though my ears were the most basic request you could make, he took his time to make sure they were perfect. Its comforting that I won’t have to go through the process of finding a place if I ever decide to get another piercing. But as Jason pointed out, that’s pretty unlikely. He’s probably right, but you never know how this city will change you.

-- Allie Flinn

Photo by amaltya via  Flickr

Penthouse View

THE PENTHOUSE restaurant and bar, perched on the top floor of the Huntley Hotel in Santa Monica, is known for its panoramic views of that city and the ocean. Great windows line every wall continuously, even in the bathroom, which makes the place even more specifically known for its view of the ocean from the last stall in the ladies room.

The view inside is also something to be remembered. So many of the stereotypes of LA come alive there. I went there a couple weekends ago with my friends, and we were the youngest people there, but luckily only by a few years. The entire floor was packed, and though the room was lined with luxe cabanas, no one was sitting at them. That’s because the minimum price for a table was $350, and everyone was dancing to the mixture of pop songs coming from the DJ’s table anyway.

You had the businessmen in suits. The hipsters. The dyed blonde, stick thin, middle-aged woman who was tottering about in high heels with an unnaturally large chest. The young women clad in super expensive clothing. Ousiders, insiders, people on the cusp. Everyone was there. It really makes you wonder where you fit in in all of this, and what all those people think when they are looking at you.

It was a great place. Fun, and trendy, and excellent people-watching. Given all the spectacles to be seen (or looked away from, I didn’t realize I was going to have to relive parts of my high school dances), it is relatively surprising that one person stood out from all the rest.

Let’s call him the “sensitive artist.”

A section of the floor deigned a few couches and some comfy looking chairs, all of which were filled by the time we got there, so he must have staked his claim quite early. He sat there, in the back of the room, reading a book. This, I thought, was a little odd. When someone got up and my friends and I pounced on their seats, I was able to get a little closer and see which book he was reading. It was “A Midsummer Night’s Dream.” No joke. This guy was reading Shakespeare at 12:30 a.m. in a hip, crowded bar. Even I, and English major who happens to love Shakespeare, would never fall for that. I wanted to ask him why. It seems so odd. I have to believe it was to pick up girls. I can’t think of another reason. So I guess it kind of worked, because I was quite curious about him. Eventually, he moved closer to the dancing and then he left. I went to the bathroom with my friend and waited for the last stall so I could check out the ocean.

It was a great view.



-- Allie Flinn

Photo from Flickr, taken by kristi.nicole

My LA: Bon Appetit

DON'T ASK me what their names are. Honestly, I can only remember a few - the standouts, fresh in my mind either by blowing me away or being much less than satisfactory. What they look like is an even more difficult question to answer. Most are just a blur of dim lighting and soft candles.

This is my Los Angeles.

Every Friday night, a new restaurant.

14,706 businesses have been reviewed on Yelp under the search terms “restaurants in Los Angeles.” How do you pick a place out of so many options? What draws me to a particular restaurant could be anything ranging from a celebrity sighting, to hearing about it on the Food Network, to driving past it on the way to a different restaurant and making a voice memo to remember it (I haven’t forgotten you, restaurant with the twinkly lights on Robertson who’s name is written in such a fancy font that I can not decipher it).

The timing for going out on a Friday has to be fine tuned to minimize the amount of traffic hit on the freeway. There are few things more frustrating than being forced to sit in a car for an undetermined amount of time when you are starving. This means leaving late, but does not guarantee the absence of traffic once off the freeway. The brake lights remind you at every pulse that if you were in practically any other city, you would be eating right at that very moment.

A new place almost every week necessarily calls for new directions. Looking out the car window, you are on the prowl for any indication of the restaurant, as well as for a place to park. The sky is dark and peppered with the lights of tall buildings and flashing signs; these are illuminated with the oncoming rush of headlights.

My Los Angeles is the knowledge that, no matter how wonderful the food is at a particular restaurant, there are so many other places to try that you will probably never be back.

The upside is that if the food is terrible, the same rule applies.

Part of me wants to settle down, the other part enjoys the thrill of not knowing exactly what the food put in front of you will taste like; whether or not you will like it.



When I order fries with five unique flavors of ketchup from Ketchup or the Truffle Burger from Umami or even something from a food truck, I am transformed. I’m not the same girl who’s favorite restaurant was Papa’s Pizza back in Bend, Oregon and who would have regular orders at the four places I regularly frequented. I am now someone different, someone adventurous. Someone who can order an item with ingredients that they don’t recognize, and be willing to try it. Each meal is a new sensation; the taste, smell and feel all combining to create something compelling but often times replaceable by the next week’s choice.


It is the ordinary items that are hard to come by. I once made the rookie mistake of asking for an italian soda at Little Dom’s in Los Feliz. They had no idea what I was talking about, but someone at my table did get a fried oyster sandwich with crispy speck (still no idea what that is), arugula, and hot sauce mayo. This sandwich is hailed as “the best oyster po’ boy in Los Angeles” by “LA Weekly.”


Each meal ends with the inevitable question - would you like dessert? The answer is no every time. There’s always somewhere else to be.

-- Allie Flinn
Photo: Umami Truffle Burger, Joanne Wan via Flickr Creative Commons

Iconic LA: Chateau Marmont

THE WORDS "Chateau Marmont" are synonymous with old glamour and luxury. The name alone conjures up pictures of stony castle walls and a high, imposing tower rising above Sunset Boulevard, appearing as a beacon to celebrities. The words, written on a lightly faded brown sign in lightly faded white letters, rise above the foliage that surrounds the hotel and glow softly in the nighttime. This stands in stark contrast to the other sign nearby - the one that glows brightly and draws people in with the promise of one thing: Liquor. Though the hotel is modeled after a royal residence in France, the scenery surrounding it couldn’t be any further from that depiction. Across the street, a strip mall complete with a McDonald’s shines in the darkness. Head lights and tail lights rush past. Everyone has somewhere to be.

Go there and the probability of running into a celebrity is high. The probability of getting in to the restaurant, as I understand, is substantially lower unless a reservation has been made far in advance, or you enjoy a certain “status.” It is a miniature castle peering out over the palm trees and billboards. The hotel is surrounded by bushy vibrant shrubbery which partly obscure it and add a barrier to keep out the rest of the boulevard.

At night the driveway to valet for the bar is usually softly lit, but drive by after a big event and it will be punctuated by the flashing bulbs of the paparazzi clamoring to take the best picture of the most important celebrities in attendance.

Chateau Marmont is a promise of old glamour, different from the promises of newer, modern hotels like The Standard which feature sleek lines and colorful lights. The stony hallways of the Chateau are filled with stories; legends of celebrities who have lived there, who have died there, and who have partied there.

Every time I drive by, I want to go in. Every time, there is an excuse. What if it doesn’t live up to my expectations? Worse, what if it does and I only get a moment there? I am not going to be a regular there, but there is that clinging hope that that’s only temporary. That one day, at some point, I will be a part of the mystery. Not just an outsider trying to look in.

The Chateau remains elevated and imposing, enveloped in its own mythic splendor, and this is the very reason it stands out from the rest of the street. Even the nature is excessive. Where else on a busy Los Angeles street could so much foliage be found? The Chateau has managed to create its own little world; an escape protected by castle walls and hazy glamour.

--Allie Flinn
photo credit: Keturah Stickann via flickr creative commons

Native vs. Migrant: The Darker Magic

FROM MY hometown of Bend, Oregon, Los Angeles seemed worlds away. It was the busy and glamorous place my aunt lived, and where I sometimes got to visit over the summer. It was a giant airport, with a sterile, echoing, flickering hallway to baggage claim. Los Angeles was more cars on the freeway than people in my town.


It was a magical place where it was always warm, perfect weather, even though there were armies of girls wearing Uggs. I felt like the perfect LA weather would never get old. And the traffic? I didn’t understand how that could be an issue. I always liked being in the car, and I was frequently in the car for around two hours to get to my grandma’s house 120 miles away.


There is a magic about this town, but its a darker magic than I thought before. Excess is mixed with the bare minimum. I have found LA to be like those sparkly Uggs - you know, the ones with the sequins? Once you put on a pair, you understand why everyone talks about them and you never want to take them off. Yet there is something not quite right - the ugliness of the shoe is drenched in glitz and it makes you forget sometimes why you didn’t like them in the first place. And they are shamelessly over-the-top.


I have learned since moving here that, while the weather is usually nice, on occasion (more frequently than I thought) it rains! Or falls below 65 degrees. But not often - or consistent - enough. The bad days are peppered throughout the year. One day it is relatively cold, the next nearly 80 degrees. How is one supposed to dress? I always get it wrong. And the usually warm weather does get old.

Despite my thinking people exaggerate traffic here, I never thought that I would drive here. It was too scary. I did believe people were impatient and rude - that proved to be true. But I didn’t expect there to be also so many nice people.


I loved this city before because it was glamorous and new, but now my feelings have changed. I love it and I hate it. I love the nooks and crannies; all the intrigue and possibilities it has to offer. But I dislike a lot of things as well - like the stupid weather that makes me long for the snowy days of Oregon. I can only visit my once-home now, I couldn’t live there anymore. This city sucks you in.

The only thing I know for certain is that I am now the proud owner of my very own pair of Uggs, to keep my feet warm when the temperature plummets to 60 degrees.


And yes, they are sparkly.



-- Allie Flinn

Photo: LAX Terminal 
Credit: mezzoblue via flickr creative commons