Pre-Polynesia Excursions

Alright, I lied. My trip didn't exactly start in French Polynesia. Following a wasted GRE test that I promptly pushed out of my memory, a father-daughter lunch at In N' Out, and a flight out of Oakland, I found myself in Los Angeles county. I spent most of my time in a glorious bastion of hippydom, Topanga Canyon, with my friend Devin. It was the perfect way to start my trip, even if it didn't include any actual bug collecting (GASP) or sitting on a beach.

Instead it was spent at places like this:

Yes. That is an assortment of tiki bar decoration supplies. A set of variations upon the classic Pufferfish and Glowing-Glass-Ball-in-a-Net decorative elements, essential to any location serving rum and fruit juice cocktails. This is from Oceanic arts, a store that specializes in selling decorations of this sort to movies, home bars, and actual bars.

We drank at two such establishments in one evening, following dinner at a Mexican restaurant where spoiled Malibu residents come out to the canyon to complain about the languid evenings and enchiladas. Sitting at that Mexican restaurant, chomping down on crab tacos, I think part of me fell for Topanga Canyon. Fell hard. The impression I got from it was that it was an oak forest canyon, protected from extreme heat and (somewhat) extreme cold, dotted with old trailer homes that had been extended into actual cabins, all wood paneling and dark interiors. It was a good place, one that I'd like to come back to, maybe just to retreat from school and cities. And that's a lot, coming from a self-proclaimed urban snob.

But, the rest of L.A., we explored that too. First to the forementioned Oceanic Arts where we spent a couple of hours, surrounded by cute old people who spread the word of my upcoming trip to one another. They descended on us in force with tales, suggestions, and old black and white photos. It was all kinds of glorious.

And then to Canter's Fairfax. A Jewish deli. And good god, what a deli. It was all early sixties decorating, vinyl-y seats, metal lined tables, crochety but strangely pleasant staff, and food. So. Much. Fucking. Food. But I guess, ah, when you're going to be away from this stuff for nine weeks, you might as well live it up.

There were sandwiches bigger than our heads.

Arguments over the proper condiments of Latkes.

And Matzoh ball soups sitting in glistening pools of broth.

And the black and white cookie! The black and white cookie. The meatiest example of its kind, a good fifty percent thicker than any I've ever seen.

Devin and I, we rolled out of that place. It was a good last meal before I left.