Going Getty
Man of the iron buttocks
It’s taken a few months since my European walkabout and my following move to Los Angeles to regain some sense of normalcy and balance—well, as much normalcy as can be expected in my oft nutty life. But Mama’s on the mental mend—I’m back and rarin’ to go. Yesterday was my first official, unchaperoned field trip where I left the general vicinity of Hollywood and all of its lampshade-wearing denizens far behind. And I did it on a bus. (I just realized that I sound like an escaped mental patient…)
I’m not sure if you know this or not, but I’m car-less. Yes, car-less in LA—a statement that is mostly met with disdain, fear and incredulity. But alas, I have proven that it is possible to exist in this city without four wheels and a crank shaft. Sure, it takes 10 times as long to get anywhere because the public transportation system is shit, but the only other option is a Vespa, which is not an option for moi. I don’t relish the idea of getting mowed over by a famous driver hopped up on Dom Perignon and Xanax or by one of those trucks that drive around with bikini-clad hooters on display.
Anyway, I visited the Getty Villa, which is positioned on a picturesque portion of the Pacific Coast HIghway in the Pacific Palisades. For those of you unfamiliar with the name, J. Paul Getty founded the Getty Museum in Los Angeles. He loved Roman, Greek and Etruscan history so much, that he built the formerly named Villa dei Papiri to display his ever-increasing art collection.
I timed my arrival perfectly as the last of the screaming school children boarded their bus. Yee-haw. I wandered about the property looking at Roman jewelry (which was a highlight for me), dead guys wrapped in linen, wonderfully ornate greek gods and goddesses and busts of the high-brow. But why is it that the tip of the nose on said busts are always missing? And not just at the Getty, it seems that noses are missing in every Greek and Roman art display I’ve ever seen. I wonder if the nose fairy has a surplus baggy with marble contraband…
It's amazing how smog really makes a sunset sing...
I concluded my day with a chocolate chip cookie, a walk on the beach and an interminably long bus ride home with a woman behind me babbling about a yawning black hole in her basement filled with martianesque critters.
It was soooooo worth it.
