It is a well-known truth that Los Angeles is simply a conglomeration of smaller towns and villages, unceremoniously tossed together in the LA basin. Biking around the city is a great way to witness this firsthand; I recently biked along the coast and experienced no fewer than three distinct personalities, all contained within a ten mile span.
Playa del Rey is a neighborhood just north of LAX, situated right on the water in a concentrated network of cracked pavement and small shops. A strong wind carries a thick fog from the ocean. The city doesn’t at all seem like it belongs in the United States – something about the kids playing soccer in the streets, open air garages, and aged antique cars calls to mind an image of a Mediterranean coastal town. Narrow streets and steep hills reinforce this notion – perhaps a shade of Lisbon’s Bairro Alto?
Almost immediately as I start biking inland at the marina, the wind against my back rapidly loses intensity, and I note the sharp increase in humidity. Regardless, meandering between bike paths remains a pleasant experience, and I find myself on Inglewood Boulevard. Heading north on Venice Boulevard, the beautiful neighborhood of Mar Vista meets my eyes. Here, the abundant foliage provides respite from the newly unchained sun. As is to be expected near the coast, hills abound, and the downhills shed the last vestiges of fog that cling to me. The sidewalks are uneven, rough, and broken, which in an unexpected twist, feels incredibly refreshing. A fresh batch of cement already has a child’s footprint etched into its drying surface. In this city that feels like a dream, these sidewalks remind me that the place is, in fact, real and alive. Here, in Mar Vista, my mind feels at ease, a rare occurrence since moving to LA. The theme of the past year has been: ‘Whatever you’re doing, do it faster’, which naturally does not lend itself to a state of relaxation. Here, on the other hand, single family homes quietly occupy the streets – every small garden and lawn painstakingly maintained. What a life to be led here!
Continuing to bike north, I turn onto Bundy Drive and, as signaled by blaring car horns, I find myself in the city of Sawtelle: wide thoroughfares and packed streets, lined with department stores, auto shops, and car washes. Pedestrians and other bikers appear out of nowhere as I pass under the 10 and the Expo Line. An almost imperceptible haze shimmers in the air, and it’s clear that I’ve arrived in a big city. This is, in a sense, what I thought I’d be getting when I moved out to LA. Next to the train station, new high rises feel like a positive sum game, where I can become part of a community and help it grow. Restaurants and trendy shops are a quick Bird trip away – who even needs a car? Being part of a newly ascendent LA is an attractive proposition, and Sawtelle feels like a ground zero. Here is a functional opposite to Mar Vista’s lifestyle, a place where I could be a building block for something new and dynamic.
At the same time, the sun beats down intensely, and I start to miss the shade cast by Mar Vista’s greenery. The streets here are wide chasms between narrow sidewalks, and navigating them is an intro course in anxiety. As promising as a future Sawtelle sounds, it’s not here yet, and starting to feel a burn in my calves, I turn around. In so many respects, Mar Vista is an unquestionably superior place to live: quiet, compact, leafy. Something about the neighborhood holds immense appeal; have I found my own ‘hidden gem’? Biking through it on my return trip, I feel like I could make my home here for the next three decades: work, write think-pieces, play music, garden, get involved in local community…
Sweat drips into my eyes, pulling me out of my reverie. As I continue to ponder, I realize the process of finding and buying a home in Mar Vista runs counter to my notions of neighborhood integration. That our coastal American culture, increasingly embracing of bodily autonomy and consent, involves so little a community’s approval of prospective homeowners boggles the mind. Were I, an affluent newcomer, to buy a house here, what say would the neighbors have? Who would I displace; how were they a part of the local history, and how could I even find out? Mar Vista, in contrast to Sawtelle, feels like a zero sum neighborhood. Where in Sawtelle the new apartments and urban development speak of a new beginning, in Mar Vista my presence feels more like an invasion of an unknown past and present. A teenager bikes across from me on a beach cruiser – no helmet.
By now, I’m quite tired of the exercise, and it’s with some relief that I re-enter Playa Del Rey. By now the fog, or maybe it’s my exhaustion, has tinted the scenery with a gray pallor. The kids have long since retreated into their homes, soccer ball left sitting next to a Yankees branded Tesla. The broken pavement here, in contrast to Mar Vista’s, feels aged, worn down over years by the salty air. Buying a house here wouldn’t feel like an intrusion; any illusions of community would have certainly been quelled long before my arrival. It’s very clear that the price of living in this neighborhood is only the price of the home itself. Only here, as the sandy, saline wind burns my eyes, can I rest easy in the knowledge that all my neighbors would have overpaid for an empty promise of belonging. At the very least, that would be fair.
‘Afterword’ and Pictures!
Biking around LA is something I really enjoy doing. I know that many of you are alien to this city, so here are a couple pictures of my bike ride, shamelessly lifted from Google Maps! The inspiration for this piece of mine has become one of my favorite routes.
This first picture is a shot of Playa Del Rey, the first city described in my piece. The first stretch of my bike ride looks pretty similar to the views in this shot, although this picture is far less foggy than what I describe.
This next city is the beautiful Mar Vista, where I claim to have found my heart.
Last, but not least, we have Sawtelle, in all it’s urban glory. In fairness to this city, much of it is very quiet. I just happened to bike into one of the major arteries of LA, and it has left this imprint on me.
In total, my bike ride comes out to about 14 miles each way, and I get a fairly healthy slice of West LA in the process!
Leave a Reply