Chapter36: Where the hippies are
Visions of Los Angeles from a distance just didn’t stack up to what I encountered when I stepped back out my door. Downtown with its single skyscraper loomed in the distance while the rest of it was lay flat, a large expanse that had been carved out of the landscape into a predetermined gridwork, somehow struggling to deal with the odd shape of land nearer the rising hills that surrounded it. Movies had colored my perceptions, as had Disneyland, a mecca for white people everywhere when in reality there were more brown, yellow and black faces here than white, living their lives the way poor and working people did elsewhere, struggling to get through the day and the backbreaking labor they had to endure just to feed and clothe themselves. But even the white people who lived here were from here but had come from other places with the same foolish vision I had, looking for something here that like an onion once stripped of all its layers, didn’t exist. I called a cab...