The pickup time for Thursday’s visit to the pyramids of Teotihuacan was 7am. Eva was out, and no correspondence was being entered into on the matter, so I dragged myself out of bed before dawn and, fuelled by Maxim (Korean instant coffee…you should try it), set out to meet my guide for the day, Sergio.
Anyone who has met my father, or has heard me speak of him, knows he is a pretty unique guy. A prolific reader, he is, quite literally, a fount of knowledge. As a child, it was easier to ask him things than it was to look them up in the encyclopaedia. The only drawback was that you generally had to sit through far more information than you were looking for, and would usually end up whining, “Daaaaad, just teeelll meeeeee…”.
Eva was suffering from an altitude headache (we’re, like, really high), so I set out on Tuesday morning alone to meet Jose, my guide and translator, who was taking me to his aunt’s restaurant for a day of cooking.
So, I’m a little behind in my posts, what with several Los Angeles events to put together, but here I am in Mexico, and half an hour ago I cried, so I think I really need to start with now…
Directions from our host in Mexico:
“…once you see the painted lady, you are home.”
We visited The Last Bookstore, a stunning space in downtown Los Angeles. It was everything a bookstore should be…open, calm, organised without being rigid, beautiful. There were small spaces around the mezzanine inhabited by artists, who were knitting, drawing and painting as we walked by. There was art in a vending machine.
On Saturday morning, Eva and I left bright and early (ok, 8.30am) for our Warner Bros. Studio Tour.
Driving in Los Angeles has been, and will no doubt continue to be, a hell of an experience. Here are some reflections:
Friday afternoon was difficult to get under way. I had been on a morning outing, but by lunchtime, it seemed that Eva and I weren’t particularly motivated to go anywhere. I suspect the reasons for this were as follows:
A Fat Purple Fig 