Tales of Downtown

The Whole Enchilada

Before I moved downtown, I lived on the Westside. A yawn. A sigh. About as ethnic as white toast or Wonder Bread. Well, at least to me anyway. 

To get away from the boredom, I would get in my car and drive downtown to the Fashion District. I would pretend that I was in Mexico on one street. Guatemala on another. Paris on another. 

I didn't care where I was on my travels - I just felt as though as I was transported to someplace else. A foreign land where people spoke a foreign language, with vendors who wore vibrant colors and hocked their vibrant wears, and children ran up and down the streets with new toys in their tiny hands.

Heaven, sheer heaven. 

What most of you don't know about me is that for years prior to my downtown adventures, I was a travel journalist. It was my way of earning a living, having some fun, and GETTING AWAY FROM LA. 

But once I found downtown about five years ago - after a friend recommended the Fashion District, which I didn't even know existed - I was hooked. And if I needed my "travel fix," I just got in my car and drove downtown.

Soon I expanded my adventures.

One day I would go to Chinatown, where I would walk Chung King Road - the charming windy street with many galleries - and pretend I was a Chinese maiden looking for my long lost artist lover. Or, I would go to Little Tokyo, and have tea in the Japanese American National Museum, and write in my journal. Or one night when I was really feeling restless, I even had the courage to go to The Hive Gallery on Spring - a street I had never been to - for my first Art Walk.  

To me, downtown was my trip. My whole enchilada. My adventure of surprises. 

So, when I finally took the leap and moved downtown my surprise was that there were still so many more surprises.

The teller at the bank, who always smiled (they don't do that on the Westside - they are very serious). How the same guy slept on the same corner every night. The fact that when you moved here, the first thing you asked when you rented a loft was, "Does it come with a parking space?" A ridiculous question in most parts of LA. 

And...I realized very quickly that in between the nooks and crannies were stories. And the windows only a very small reflection. 

Yes, an ADVENTURE. One that you don't need to purchase a ticket for...all you have to do is step on for the ride.

Use Your Imagination, Kid

When I was a little girl, that's all I really had. Sure, there were dolls and things, but I relied on my imagination to survive emotionally.

The story of my complicated childhood is long (like - who's isn't?) - and to shorten my tale - one day I dreamed I was a fairy princess living amongst magical frogs. Another - mystery sleuth Nancy Drew solving crimes. Another - I was on an African safari searching for elephants.

Go figure. 

But, it was my imagination that kept me going. Onto the next adventure of my mind. Onto happiness and the willingness to never give up.

So, it is with a saddened heart, that I write to all of you that I had to move out of my new loft less than two weeks after I moved my furniture in.

Last week I went to my doctor. I told him about the severe physical reaction I was having in the loft - I could go into details, but - he said very firmly, "Here's the deal kid, it's either your health or the unit. YOU NEED TO LEAVE THE LOFT."

He sort of smacked me on the side of my head with a decision I dreaded to make. Downtown was my home. What about my friends in the building? What about my friends outside of the building? This blog. My life. My finances. I could go on and on, but I won't.

There isn't a one of you that doesn't understand the stress of this situation. Emotional. Physical. Mental. 

Yes, most readers of this blog live in California where many of you will say - "I know, there is a reason for this Nancy. You'll see it's for your higher good...and, and, and..."

Right now though, I don't see the reason. I don't feel the reason. All I know is that old feather-face got me at the ATM on Spring Street a few weeks ago, before I moved into this new loft, and it didn't bring me luck.

As I sit here posting in Century City, I will use my vivid imagination and all my fantastic memories of my downtown life to write Tales of Downtown, tell my stories, and be there in spirit until I find a new place (again).

And the end of this tale - kid - is for me to say to you, "Always use your imagination to take you to places you want to go." 

Because in reality, that's our dream come true.