The Truth is in the Road

Recently I've developed a hard-to-keep-secret obsession with farmers market, and I am enjoying every moment of it.  It seems that I've never derived so much satisfaction from waking up early, walking up the stairs on Arizona Avenue and entering the magical world that unfolds in Downtown Santa Monica every Wednesday morning.  I buy a few peaches and a cup of chocolate macadamia coffee and run around with my phone camera, spying on the life around me, absorbing colors, smells and sounds.  I marvel at the buckets overflowing with stock flowers and buttercups. I meditate on grapefruits, tight with juice and glowing in the morning sunlight. I peak at the big fragrant loaves bread, resting heavily in baskets covered with unbleached linen. I get lost in the deep greenery of the bundles of spinach, arugula and Roman lettuce.  Most of all, however, I revel in observing people. Thin elderly ladies carrying canvas totes filled with leeks and artichokes. Sturdy ...

Spring is  sneaking into Los  Angeles. Officially, there are still two months left until her inauguration. However, here and there, she is sending you secret  signals, leaving you  encoded  messages and giving you subtle hints. During your walks, you  catch   the sudden smell of the ocean in the air and understand that this fragrance does not belong to the winter. Sometimes you notice, surprised, that the sun has become unexpectedly friendly, to the extent that there is nothing you can do, but take off your warm sweaters and cardigans and place your pale skin under the sun beams. When one January day you come across a cherry blossom tree in a neighbor’s Japanese garden, the tree that you have never seen there   – ever, you could swear! – you will have no doubt: the spring is somewhere close. Friends from Europe will tell you stories of snow and relate weather forecasts of "up to -24C at night". You will come acro...

If you have ever seen a picture of Los Angeles in winter, then you are probably deeply convinced that California is the land of eternal summer. That was exactly what I thought when I was getting ready for my first visits here. I was happily stuffing my suitcase with open-back dresses and light sandals. Later, a little bit less happily, I was listening to my teeth chattering at every breath of the ocean wind and was wrapping myself into every accessible sweater and pair of leggings to survive until dawn. Neither of this fitted into my concept of sunny California. Contrary to the widespread stereotype, winter does exist in Southern California. It hides in the alleys of broad-leaf trees. It taps on the windows with the long-awaited rains that everyone was praying for during the long summer droughts. It puts the sun to sleep into the ocean. It proudly displays gingerbread houses in the supermarket shop-windows. Winter is the time of spectacular sunsets, long nights ...