One daughter lives in Belmont Shores, in the city of Long Beach. The other lives a block from Beverly Hills. I am allowed to use only the computers here for one day. Everything has changed in the library. Now the CD's and DVD's get top billing up front. Oh yes, my daughter lives, a block from the West Side Museum of Tolerance and Beverly Hills.
I had intended to take Metro Link from Oceanside, all the way to L.A. Its fare is ten dollars all day-and as far as Santa Barbara. Yet I felt too good to ride the rails, and besides it takes three hours. Dancing lessons two times a week has provided me with the lift for the drive, my two legs.
I made a toasted Jelly sandwich along with two hard boiled eggs. I did a quick toilet break that included fifteen minutes in the 'Y'. shower and bolted out the door. On B Street again I noticed the Nosh would have its unveiling on April Fools Day. The owner ;promised me a free matzo ball soup with this advertisement. From B Street the Green Line was one block away.
After I had tapped my card, the Trolley greeted me with the usual cling cling cling. My car was waiting for me at the Old Town Parking lot. Dolly too felt eager to go. It was seven thirty. I put my mind on cruise control and bypassed the Oceanside station. No Metro Link for me today.
I needed a pit stop for Dolly and me. To the right of the Ortega off ramp was a large friendly station. I took car of nature and pumped twenty dollars worth inside her stomach. Now both of us were satisfied. I asked two bikers the directions to the Amtrak and Metro-Link Station.
"Sir, just go west and follow the road. At the end turn left."
My daughter takes my her kids to a petting zoo. Do you know how to get there?
"The petting zoo is no far from the train station. You can't miss it."
I arrived in Beverly Hills at nine thirty, and none the worst for wear. My daughter slept while I took a few winks on her coach. Even her Yorkshire did not bark. It knows my smell by now. After I picked up two mangoes for ninety nine cents each at the Pico, Ralph's I marched to the #14 bus stop on Beverly Glen.
I had forgotten how much I had missed Beverly Hills. Across the street from the bus stop every car wore a handicap sticker. There were two beauty salons and one upstairs synagogue. I call the Pico location Little Tehran with a Jewish and Arabic flavor. I paid 25 cents for the ride to its library.
After my computer work is done, I will go to Nate and Al's for some fresh chopped liver and cross the street to the Paley Center. I will meet with its supervisor and try to set up a book signing there this year.
Afterwards, I took my daughter to Costco to fill up her fridge, since she had emptied it. Instead of going dancing in Torrance, I decided to get a few necessities for my youngest daughter. It was not easy sleeping on the floor of her bedroom, but I survived.
On Sunday, I left the apartment at seven thirty. I never drive when my legs will do. There is something about seeing and smelling more on foot rather than by car. While waiting for the #14 bus on the corner of Beverly Glen and Pico Blvd. I thought about the difference between Beverly Hills and San Diego.
Whereas Beverly Hills has a scent of expensive perfume, San Diego has the aroma of urine . I only saw two or three homeless in Beverly Hills and everything seemed clean. Why even the streets were repaved. The #14 bus picked me up for one quarter. Besides me, a gringo, it picked up two Mexicans on the way.
The flag ship for Beverly Hills, or Nate and Al's beckoned. To get the feeling of Beverly Hills I needed to order breakfast there.
"Mam, can you get me the short stack and can you throw in a few pickles?"
"What would you like to drink?"
"Get me a glass of cold water. Doing the Beverly Hills walk has made me high enough!"
A few waitresses sang happy birthday to Kevin. The waitress told me he reached 55 and gave me a slice of his birthday cake.
So far, I didn't see any skateboarders, bikers or knapsacks. It was pleasant not to hear any noises. I could read my book in peace. From there I crossed over to Starbucks and ordered a cold coffee. Again the opulence of Beverly Hills was evident. I did no belong, and thank God. I am simple an plain and hope to remain that way.
Yet San Diego is more diversified. It is rather like an amusement park. You can visit the new library, the zoo, the gas lamp, the Harbor, and Little Italy. For me, I love the Rose Garden at Balboa Park, or Ocean Beach just a few miles away. There is something about the ocean that make me feel complete.
I waited for the #14 Metro bus to return me back to my apartment. I needed to take my happier daughter to buy a few items from CVS and take a trip to Huntington Beach to visit my blind brother Mel. Yes, Beverly Hills felt like going to Treasure Island, but who need it, when my two treasures are my daughters.
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