Over the winter break, the Kao roamed to her hometown, Los Angeles, California.
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| Santa Monica |
It was not, however, sunny. In fact, it rained for 6 consecutive days, which seldom happens (maybe once every seven years?). But I didn't mind. I still got in my car and drove, and drove, and drove. And it felt damned good.
It was kind of strange to go back, at first. Since I arrived to NYC in late August, all I did was whine about going back to L.A. In mid-October I purchased my tickets. I eagerly anticipated the date. I thought about all the stuff I left behind and kept a running list of things I needed to remember to bring. I lamented over small objects, such as blue Pentel pens and yellow highlighters, certain articles of clothing, and socks.
By early December something happened. Not sure what. But it suddenly felt "OK" to be in NYC. I stopped counting down the days.
The first few days back in L.A. felt a little odd, or strange. It's hard to explain. My parents' house, which we moved to in 1981, didn't feel too different (except now boxes of my crap occupy multiple rooms). It felt..."normal." Like it was any other xmas break, like how I was there over most xmas breaks over the last 15 years. No big deal. What was strange, instead, was not having a "home" to go to that was mine. I drove by my old apartment in Westwood while searching for parking - no longer could I simply pull into the garage. It appeared to be vacant still. That, was a strange feeling.
Before long, without even having a work routine or any type of routine, it felt as if I had never left. My life in NYC a forgotten blur. I visited friends, favorite restaurants, and new restaurants too.
At one point, after hanging out at Father's Office in Culver City (a popular bar), my friend and I walked down the end of the plaza, saw that there was nothing else to do, and headed toward the car and left. It dawned on me, I wouldn't have this problem in NYC. There's always something else to walk toward, something else to do. And for a brief moment, I looked forward to going back. (A very brief moment).
People ask me what I missed most about Los Angeles, so here's my list:
- driving
- blasting the radio and singing along to whatever comes on, while driving
- view of wide open spaces (and being able to see far in the distance, on non-smoggy days)
- view of palm trees
- getting a good night's sleep (on my firm mattress, in the quiet, pitch-black darkness that is my parents' house)
- knowing where all the good restaurants are
- just knowing in general (i.e., being familiar with and knowing where to go, when to go, how to go, and what to do)
- not needing hat, scarf, or gloves (can't believe I used to wear these things for fashion!)
- West coast sunsets (see photo above)
- last but not least, my friends (awwww)
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| Snowy mountains...in the distance |
After two weeks there I actually felt ready to leave. I think part of it was not necessarily missing New York, but wanting or wishing for my own personal space. Nothing against my folks, of course, but as an only child I've always been sort of a loner. I need quiet time. I need me time. I need spaces that are mine and mine alone. Nevertheless, at the end of three weeks there, it was bittersweet leaving. After a somewhat long, and arduous security process at LAX (never fly on a Sunday, heck, avoid LAX in general), I boarded a plane bound for JFK. Unlike my flight back in August, this time I didn't sit there feeling defeated. In fact, I didn't think about anything at all.
Dragging my heavy luggage down the hall I was not greeted by anyone. Nary a "welcome back" or even a "hello" from the security guard. Entering my cold, dark room I had a fleeting feeling that it was all just a dream, except I was watching the dream vaporize before my eyes. It wasn't a dream. I really lived here. And still do.
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| A welcome-back snow |
