L. A. Diary: We Arrive and I Discover that I Love L.A.

Part 1: We Begin

Part 2: On the Road

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Once we got to the other side of those mountains, which actually look like foothills to anyone who grew up visiting Colorado on a regular basis, we hit Los Angeles.

What a surprise it was.

The movies made me think of it as flat.

This was enhanced when Tom told me many years ago that L.A. was like a huge version of Houston. Hmmm. Houston is flat as a pancake, full of clogged highways, and, frankly, not my cup of tea.

This city though was not like the descriptions or movies. It was clumps of hills with houses clinging to the sides and grouped around the base, highways weaving around them. The houses were brightly colored or Spanish-style architecture or just exotic looking.

I feasted my eyes.

This was anything but flat and boring!

As we laboriously made our way through town to Rose's new neighborhood of Los Feliz, my enchantment grew. For some reason Brazil came to mind. Yes, that is just how exotic it felt. I loved it! And that enchantment lasted the entire time we were there.

Rose's apartments, which back up to a huge hill and face a city park, continued my pleasure. Much larger than we expected, with hardwood floors and open courtyards, it was a lovely place to think of Rose and Zoe spending their time.

We crammed the car and U-Haul into Rose's parking place and hurriedly began hauling boxes to and fro. We wanted to unload that darned trailer and only had a couple of hours before the U-Haul office closed. We made the deadline and felt as light as a feather continuing without it behind us in the L.A. traffic. Why, we could even back up! No more determining destinations based on pull-through parking. Woohoo!

Rose and Zoe would spend one more night with us in a hotel. There was no way we were going to abandon them with the bed not even put together and the entire place full of boxes.

But where would take a dog?

Not many places, as it turned out.

However, both the Marriott and the Holiday Inn near the Bob Hope Airport would do so. And they weren't too far away. Based on the photos, Tom thought the Marriott looked quieter and more relaxing.

Thus did we learn that you really cannot judge a hotel by its picture.

Little did we know that we were embarking upon the strangest encounter we would have the entire time. And, now that I think of it, I'm not sure our family has ever had an evening like the one we had at the Marriott.

Once again, that's a story for another day.