Searching for France in L.A, Part II

Like I said before, I've been looking for France in L.A. So, when I read an article about Beachwood Canyon, and its resemblance to Toulouse, France, I had to pay it a visit. 

On a hot Sunday afternoon, a few weeks ago, I left my house to find out what's so special about the area. To get there, just put Beachwood Canyon Market in your GPS. Beachwood Canyon Drive is the main street that gets you to all the charming narrow side streets, and the instagrammable spots.

As I drove through the narrow curvy streets, and having had to pull over often to let the oncoming cars to pass, I was reminded of my time in France. When my mom visited, she loved my apartment which overlooked an alleyway. Every morning cars would honk their horns at a guy who was delivering bread out of his truck parked in front of a market below my building. He took his time, oblivious of the people who were lined up behind him, trying to get to work.

The homes are different with a lot of character. There are also faux castles in this area.

I wanted to take a photo of the Hollywood sign when I drove up Beachwood Canyon, but there were too many people doing the same thing, and the sun was too strong. So I moved on, and took a photo on my way back.

There is a small market, café, and a vintage shop.

I stopped by the Beachwood Café. All I wanted was two eggs and toast, but I was told that breakfast was over, and the only way I could get eggs was to have it with pancake and bacon which didn't make sense to me. I ordered burrata, instead. I was expecting it to be warm, but it was cold as ice, and served with too many garlic bread. Burrata is best served over a thinly-sliced high quality Italian bread. If you plan to go, don't go for lunch. Get there early when they're serving breakfast.

A lot of history is behind the entire area, but since that was not the reason I was there, I will not get into it. If you're interested, you can find out more on Rebecca's blog. There is also the secret staircases of Beachwood Canyon, and here is how to get there. 

Note: A meter maid waits under a tree to give you a ticket. Make sure to read the street signs carefully before you park. I almost got a ticket, but then I realized that although I was in a 2 hour spot, I wasn't allowed to park there on Sat & Sun.  

Searching for France in L.A

I've been thinking a lot about France lately. Not sure why. I lived there many years ago as a student, and although I had a great time, I kind of moved on. I don't know. Perhaps life just got busy, I got older, and my interests changed.

What I've been missing most about France is their lifestyle, culture, and a sense of community. Most of the time, you don't need a car, and can get anywhere by metro, subway, bus, or train. Although we have a little bit of that here; it's not the same. Cities are not spread out like Los Angeles. You don't have to drive in traffic for hours to visit family and friends.  

There's something about France that makes you want to sit at a café, read, journal, write a poem, a short story, or a novel. It's such a different vibe than L.A and people hangout in smoky cafes for hours, chatting, and enjoying life.

Long ago, there was a lot of French culture in L.A. We had events, French markets, neighborhoods, restaurants, and cafés with French employees. Now we just have replicas of things. I miss the authenticity. I guess for now, my hanging out at Le Pain Quotidian will have to do.

France has many beautiful parks and gardens, and you can get lost walking for hours. Out in L.A, everything is concrete, walls, and fences. Take the above walking path, for example, that was reached through a shortcut at Ralph's parking lot in Marina Del Rey. It has been shut down by walls and fences. To get there now, you have to walk for a longtime through traffic, cars honking, and the unpleasant smell of gasoline. It gets frustrating at times, and makes you want to live elsewhere.

The artist garden at Argenteuil, Claude Monet, 1873

Dance in the city, Pierre Auguste Renoir, 1883

Woman bathing her feet in a brook, Camille Pissarro, 1894 

I use to love doing cultural things, be it attending the theater, an art exhibit, or watching a French film with subtitles.

And it didn't end there. Afterwards, my friends and I would discuss and analyze what we saw over a glass of wine. The above film, Joueuse (Player)—Queen to Play is really good if you can find it on Netflix or Prime. 

And yes, you may be able to do these things in L.A, but to do so, you have to drive to many different places. So, there it is. My search for France in L.A.

And I guess nothing is complete without a French song 💙. I'm not sure if this is still the case, but when I lived there, everything was about love, sex, and betrayal, even their commercials. The above song is by a Canadian artist Dian Tell, Si J'étais un homme.