 | Downtown Los Angeles is a glamorous, dirty, downtrodden, intriguing place. If you have a couple of days, you can stay there, eat there, have a lot of fun there, without ever getting in your car. Everything here is in walking distance, and you can explore the faded and possibly returning beauty of downtown Los Angeles. The architecture is stunning. Gentrification, always a tricky project, is slowly but surely making the neighborhood more walkable and liveable. |
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Stay at the Figueroa Hotel. It’s a bit dilapidated, but glorious. Decor to die for. You can stay at one of those cookie-cutter skyscraper luxury hotels, but where’s the fun in that? A Ritz is a Ritz is a Ritz. The Figueroa is a gem of architecture and culture! It was built as a YWCA for lady travelers in 1925, and it’s decorated in Moroccan style. We had the whole family with us this time, and of course none of our kids can sleep with anybody, so we got a room with two queen beds, a daybed, and a roll-a-way. Everybody slept alone. Except my husband and me, of course. We shared. Bonus for the room? The water! In drought-stricken California, we have low-flow toilets and water-saving shower heads, with signs in several languages reminding us to take short showers. The Fig has not heard about the drought, apparently, and the showers are like Niagara Falls. I haven’t been in that much moving water in months! It was fabulous. Also, breakfast at the Fig is a beautiful affair. There is a buffet, or you can order from the menu. There are newspapers and NO TV! I like reading the morning news, not watching it.
The pool is a family-friendly area with plenty of lounge chairs, tables, umbrellas, a hot tub, lovely tile work, and a nice deep pool. Feel free to wear that bikini, because there are enough uninhibited tourists around to make you realize that your figure really is still pretty good. The bar opens in the afternoon, and let me just say the margaritas will make you forget your troubles. At 7 pm, the pool closes and the area turns into a grownup hangout with relaxed, happy people lounging and talking. Sometimes, there is live music. It’s a lovely way to end your day!
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After breakfast, put on your walking shoes, get your hat, and set out. I recommend walking first to the LA Public Library. The older part of the building was constructed in 1926, and the newer part has a beautiful atrium. You can take a docent-led tour. When you look out the library’s Fifth Street door, you see an amazing flight of stairs across the street.
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From the library, walk down Fifth Street to The Last Bookstore. This place is a gem among bookstores: lots of books, used and new, records, a yarn shop, local artists’ studios, cushy chairs, and sometimes even live music! Like their slogan says, “What are you waiting for? We won’t be here forever.” Sad but true, bookstores are losing out to online sales, so hurry up.
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You’ll notice that there are plenty of homeless people in downtown LA, and they increase as you get closer to Skid Row, the area bordered by Main Street, Third and Seventh Streets, and Alameda Street. Just keep a hand on your purse, look straight ahead, and walk like a New Yorker.
I wouldn’t advise a visit to Skid Row. I’ve been there, and I was overwhelmed by the sight of humans just like me, with arms and legs, living in deplorable conditions. The smells of urine and weed choked me. I had to step around the people lying on the sidewalk, and I wondered how much shelter those tarps over the shopping carts really provided. Their eyes haunted me for days. Their shouting scared me. The heavy police presence did not comfort me, because I realized that 5,000 desperate homeless people in one square mile could easily overtake a police officer. Or two. When I saw that they had no cooking facilities, I looked around and saw that the missions and panhandling are their only source of food. I wondered where they get drinking water, where they go to the bathroom. I wondered how cold it gets at night, and if their many layers of clothing keep them warm enough. I thought of my abundance of water at the Hotel Figueroa, and my soft bed, and my nice breakfast. I wondered how the city could let this happen. I wondered where the homeless people’s families are, how they got here, if they ever lived a normal life.
Don’t go there.
Because if you do, it will change you. I didn’t ask myself why they don’t just get jobs, because I saw that they are filthy and nobody hires filthy people. I didn’t ask myself why they don’t go find their relatives, because I remembered my cousins's crazy ex-brother-in-law that nobody has heard from in a long time, and I wondered if I’d take him in if he looked like this. I asked myself why they don’t go to a shelter, then realized there are plenty of vacant lots right here, and nobody has built shelters on them. I wondered why the city doesn’t clear them out and hose off the sidewalks and make a no-camping ordinance, then realized I don’t want them in my neighborhood either. Then I felt really bad.
Don’t go there.
Instead, look at these pictures.
If you go to Skid Row, in the daytime, you’ll probably be safe. You’ll probably get shouted at, stared at, but there probably won’t be any violence while you’re there. At least, there wasn’t when I’ve been there. You’ll probably be oddly silent for a while afterward. Then you’ll go to lunch. But while you’re eating, if you’re a decent human being, you’ll wonder what you can do about Skid Row. Or about that homeless guy you pass on your way to the grocery store. I’m not saying you have to feed everybody or put yourself at risk. Just take a look.
I wouldn’t advise a visit to Skid Row. I’ve been there, and I was overwhelmed by the sight of humans just like me, with arms and legs, living in deplorable conditions. The smells of urine and weed choked me. I had to step around the people lying on the sidewalk, and I wondered how much shelter those tarps over the shopping carts really provided. Their eyes haunted me for days. Their shouting scared me. The heavy police presence did not comfort me, because I realized that 5,000 desperate homeless people in one square mile could easily overtake a police officer. Or two. When I saw that they had no cooking facilities, I looked around and saw that the missions and panhandling are their only source of food. I wondered where they get drinking water, where they go to the bathroom. I wondered how cold it gets at night, and if their many layers of clothing keep them warm enough. I thought of my abundance of water at the Hotel Figueroa, and my soft bed, and my nice breakfast. I wondered how the city could let this happen. I wondered where the homeless people’s families are, how they got here, if they ever lived a normal life.
Don’t go there.
Because if you do, it will change you. I didn’t ask myself why they don’t just get jobs, because I saw that they are filthy and nobody hires filthy people. I didn’t ask myself why they don’t go find their relatives, because I remembered my cousins's crazy ex-brother-in-law that nobody has heard from in a long time, and I wondered if I’d take him in if he looked like this. I asked myself why they don’t go to a shelter, then realized there are plenty of vacant lots right here, and nobody has built shelters on them. I wondered why the city doesn’t clear them out and hose off the sidewalks and make a no-camping ordinance, then realized I don’t want them in my neighborhood either. Then I felt really bad.
Don’t go there.
Instead, look at these pictures.
If you go to Skid Row, in the daytime, you’ll probably be safe. You’ll probably get shouted at, stared at, but there probably won’t be any violence while you’re there. At least, there wasn’t when I’ve been there. You’ll probably be oddly silent for a while afterward. Then you’ll go to lunch. But while you’re eating, if you’re a decent human being, you’ll wonder what you can do about Skid Row. Or about that homeless guy you pass on your way to the grocery store. I’m not saying you have to feed everybody or put yourself at risk. Just take a look.
Well, now you’re probably ready for lunch! Head over to Grand Central Market. It has food stalls, a candy shop, juice bars, fresh meat-cheese-produce-flowers, a bar, and Eggslut. I. Love. Eggslut. My favorite thing on the menu is The Slut. It has magic potato puree with a poached egg in a little jar, which you smash up and smear on crusty bread. Indescribably delicious. Also, you get to say “slut” guilt-free. You didn’t invent the name. You’re just ordering. Then, a cardamom iced coffee from the falafel place. Or some juice thing that sets you back $8 but is so good you’d do it again tomorrow. Salt water taffy from the candy store also can’t hurt.
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For some local color, head over to Santee Alley. It’s a sort of market/knock-offs/cheap toys/electronics/Mexican snacks place. The clothes are not quite my style, but I enjoy the friendly vibe and snacks.
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| Before sunset, haul yourself (or take Uber) back across downtown to the BonaVista Lounge on the 34th floor of the Bonaventure Hotel. The whole floor rotates. Get a table overlooking the view, and the floor will rotate to show you the sunset. I recommend a sidecar and the baked brie. Oh my word. |  |
| There are lots of other things to do in downtown LA, such as concerts and sports at Staples Center, movies at LA Live, concerts at Disney Concert Hall. Also, you can go to IHOP in the middle of the night and find a bug on your chest. It’s very different from my suburban life, so maybe it’s a nice change for you, too. My top picks of the weekend are:
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Have you visited downtown LA? What were your favorite things to see and do?
