For Fruit Mongers and City Knaves: Fruit Hunter

I spend at least half of my days alone here at home. [When I say "alone," I should specify that's in terms of human company. I am surrounded by furry beasts large and small constantly. But the people - not so much.] Some might find that difficult and a source of discomfort, but the silence does me good. It has given me plenty of space to put myself in a terrible mood, and slowly work my way out of it. I am gradually learning how to deal with myself again, having put that project on hiatus for at least two years.

What has that meant? I've gone on a lot of purging rampages. And nothing is safe: I raided my closet early on. Then came the books (yes! the books). Then it was my physical room and its high school decorations. The TOOL poster, for the first time in probably ten years, has been allocated to my closet. I'm not that angry, frustrated girl anymore. It's good to let go.

Something I've been thinking a lot about is what to do with this blog. Does that need to go too, now that the France expedition has ended? I started "Fruitmongers" at the suggestion of my friend and former employer Adrian. He's always encouraged his employees to document and share their travels, and I think when we discussed a blog, we did so thinking he would post a link to it on his store's website.

Well, I never gave him the URL or even mentioned I'd started it. Too personal, and too honest. Not really the sort of thing that would encourage people to take two week European vacations. And thinking about it then - and now - I still question the benefits of tourism. My travel companions have heard me rant so many times about the crassness and, frankly, tackiness of my guide books. I like to think their content and presentation are directly connected to the embarrassing asshats and mesmerizingly dimwitted tourists/travelers we've come across. [White Pudding, anyone?] But as frustrated as I become by the vulgar and insensitive, I acknowledge my own part in the process. And I know that I will never trade in my wanderlust for the sake of abstract personal philosophy. It fascinates me how visitors shape the cities which they trot... by foot, by bicycle, by car, and by Segway. I've never had the pleasure of riding a Segway, but I am a visitor. And in some minute way, I do shape the places I visit - even if merely my own perceptions of them.

So just because I'm not admiring the warmth of a fresh baguette or the crown moulding in a Portuguese café, doesn't mean I have to approach my life here in the U.S. with the eye and spirit of a bored native. I'm just as baffled by the day to day life in Los Angeles as I am by the distant and crisp communication tactics of the French. I don't get how people meet each other here. Or how people seem to end up here from all over the world. Or why the only people walking are either with their dogs, or sweating off five pounds in a visor and spandex.

Fear not, gentle reader. This blog lives on.
To assure you of my new-found enthusiasm, I've continued to carry my camera with me to photograph the bizarre, the uncomfortable, the beautiful, and the humorous. Viewer participation is highly encouraged.

To start, some pictures of the 'hood. Randall asked me to document a walk I took to my favorite coffee shop. It took me through a few different... economic echelons.

THE ONE-EYED WONDER, my cat. He watches all of my outdoor movements.

I lied. I saw these two a Staples' parking lot!

start walk

high brow!

ummm... this house is made out of metal.

I had a funny conversation in Sevilla with two friends about orange trees and their exotic lure. Palm trees, if possible, are more common than orange trees. So common they make cell phone towers look like them. (These are not cell phone towers.)