“Well I just got into town about an hour ago, took a look around, see which way the wind blow”…. Jim Morrison wasn’t the only one.

L.A. is one of the must-stop destinations for musicians and non-musicians alike, and I had the recent pleasure of having an excursion there for a couple of weeks.  I traveled down alone, something that always inspires me in itself. Being solitary seems to act as a wonderful connector to the world around me.  My senses are heightened. I can look around, listen and observe at a greater expanse.

Even flying in you’re struck by the sprawling nature of it.   The road system isn’t even a grid, it’s a woven freeway-mecca for the restless (trusting the restless are prepared to sit in traffic for quite a while).  Admittedly I was totally intimidated at first… Everyone that lived there was so well versed in the freeway-speak and most of the time I felt they had to talk to me like I was 5 to get directions across. You need a car. No two ways about it.  You can survive without one I suppose, but the majority of your day will be spent commuting.  While I was there I was lucky enough to visit quite a few different areas: Silver Lake, Playa Del Rey, Culver City, Montecito Heights, West Hollywood, Santa Monica, and Venice.  L.A. isn’t just one spot.  It’s built out of MANY spots, all connected by the lovely freeway system like an intricate constellation.

On the first night of having my rented car I got lost. I was trying to get from Culver City back to Silver Lake- which shouldn’t be THAT difficult, should it? I was on track, feeling good, went to take my exit to the 110 and hey! The exit was blocked off by cones.  DETOUR, the sign said. Detour? Where and how and what the hell am I doing here? Detour…. My car had no GPS (something that would have cost me an extra arm and leg at the rental place- it’s how they getcha) so I was trusting my iphone’s google map to keep me on point. At one in the morning it’s hard to drive and keep checking in with a little screen, trying to follow the blue dot of “you are here” in order to tell if and when you’ve strayed from the pathway home. I ended up on Martin Luther King Blvd. The streets were deserted. Every shred of common sense in my body was screaming, “Get the eff out of here, you stand out like a sore thumb, this is what NOT to do, don’t stop the car, you’ll get mugged or worse”.  I was panicking but I knew that wouldn’t help me…  My phone was on it’s last leg of batteries, I was on a race against time.  I mustered everything I had to keep it together, when honestly I just wanted to cry with frustration. I actually said “Don’t you dare cry” out loud. Crazy lady lost and on the move!  I knew I would eventually laugh about the situation- as long as I stayed alive, that is.  What should have taken me about half an hour tops took me about two and a half.  A million and a half wrong ways later, miraculously, I found my way back. I stopped and gave the Universe a great deal of thanks for that one. I was home, I was safe, I had survived my first “Lost in LA” experience.

Starting off the whole driving thing that way was a blessing in disguise. I never got THAT lost again for the remainder of the trip. Definite discourse was taken here and there, sure, but never as badly as that first night.  I actually began to understand the freeway system a little more, or rather I got USED to it a little more. The permanent L.A. resident must spend a LOT of time getting lost at first (at least I HOPE they do, then I wouldnt feel so bad). The first time I got from A to B without a hitch was an immense feeling of accomplishment, it makes you feel on top of things.  You just have to be alert or you’ll miss your exit.

More L.A. adventures to come…..