Early this morning I had decided to explore the downtown Los Angeles area. Â Dave had given me some ideas and I was looking forward to discovering more about my surroundings and especially on my own.
It was what I thought to be a hot morning and I just knew it would be a perfect day. Â I walked through the Village on my way to a bus stop on Wilshire Boulevard. Â I knew to go east as west would land me at the beach! Â Not a bad choice either but today was for concrete.
I boarded the downtown Los Angeles bus and chose a window seat towards the rear. Â After a couple of stops an attractive young lady boarded the bus. Â
I noticed her taking a quick observation of the scene and as there wasnât a whole crowd of faces to sift through, she spotted me, I know she did. Â At first she walked past me and then turned around and stopped where I was sitting.
âWould you mind if I sat here?â she asked me as she held onto the back of the aisle seat now that the bus was rolling again. Â âNot at all,â I replied looking up at her. Â
She took the seat and we sat silently for about another minute. Â
âAre you from around here?â she asked me, breaking the silence.
âNo actually I only moved into the Village a few days ago.’ Â And then I boldly carried on. Â ‘Before that, for a few days I was in a motel room not too far from here and I had come directly there from San Francisco. Â Now Iâm living on Gayley.â Â Â
âOh I live on Gayley too!â Â we both smiled and she went on, âWhere did you come from?â and before I would answer, Â âAre you from India?â
âNo, I am not from India,â I plainly countered.
She appeared a little surprised and then stated the question, âYou are Indian, yes?â
âYes I am. Full-blood Indian.â Â And now she was clearly more intrigued.
âWell then, if not San Francisco and not India, where are you from?â she questioned me. Â
âI came from Fiji Islands landing first in San Francisco.â Â I explained, âI lived and worked there for nearly a year. Â I then decided to come to Los Angeles and find an old friend of mine.â
âHow do you come to have this friend here in Los Angeles?â Â still another question from her; I think I am now being interviewed.
âHe is a pen pal from long ago.â Â Â I told her in response.
She listened very intently and I amusedly thought to myself, this girl is computing all this information into some formula or another.
âFiji Islands?â she asked me thoughtfully.
âYes. Â Do you know where that is?â Â I asked her. Â She said to me that she believed it was in the south Pacific Ocean. Â I smiled with delight and then added, âThatâs right and so you have a better idea, the closest large land to us is New Zealand.â Â
It was once again quiet but for only a few moments, both of us absorbing information perhaps. Â A little more conversation transpired in the next moments. Â She then took out a little notepad and began scribbling in it. Â I of course thought nothing of it. Â
This young lady then tore the page out from the book, folded it and handed it to me. Â I opened it up to look at it and there was her telephone number and address. Â
She appeared over the moon with our dialogue and said, âHereâs my address and telephone number in case youâd like to have coffee with me some time – we could continue this conversation.â
I asked her for another sheet of paper and taking out my pen from my shirt pocket, I scribbled my contact information and handed it to her. Â I could tell this gesture pleased her. Â
My randomly chosen bus stop somewhere in the middle of the city had arrived, I excused myself and we said our goodbyes. Â Clearly we were both tickled pink for the sudden spark of dialogue and the thought of where it might possibly lead. Â
I walked around without aim for about half an hour and then my nose caught a delicious smell. Â I thought to keep walking but after about half a block this aroma got the better of me and I did an about face.
First I looked into the giant pane glass window of the obvious restaurant and noticed the crowd. Â Then I spotted the buffet laid out in what seemed to be the middle of a large dining room. Â
I had the feeling this was something like one of my favorites in San Francisco, Cliftons. Â I entered without further resistance. Â I paid the cashier $2.38 -the sum keeps coming up strong in my mind so I believe that is accurate. Â
Wow what a spread, so many salads, soups and delectable hot items. Â All kinds of most everything I would hope for; various beef, chicken and fish preparations, rice, potatoes, breads (the great American diet, right?), things I couldnât identify, desserts and drink choices too.
I spent a leisurely near two hours there, taking my time, tasting everything and getting a good dose of people watching as well. Â I believed I was witnessing many an American family up close and in the course of their mealtime normalcy.
When at last I knew I was done for, it was time to get some fresh air. Â I walked around observing the city of Los Angelesâ life around me, window shopping and taking notice of all the lovely old buildings of downtown. Â
This took me another hour and half into my dayâs adventure. Â And now I was feeling tired so I resigned to call it a day. Â I caught the westbound bus along Wilshire back to Westwood Boulevard. Â Thatâs where I got off to walk to my place in the Village.
No sooner I got into the door and my phone rang. Â âI was trying to reach you all morning,â the voice said on the other end. Â I didnât offer much information of my whereabouts but offered my âhow can I help?â Â It was the woman who employed me. Â
She called to tell me about a certain tenant whom she wanted me to keep a closer eye on. Â âTheyâre a rowdy sort and I want you to tell me if thereâs any trouble.â Â I assured her I would of course. Â All this would figure into my daily life in the village, Westwood Village.
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