It's a simple equation. Steeper roads + no pedestrian access (ie footpaths) = fancy schmancy homes.
Our local supermarket is the last one before the foothills start, so we see some seriously expensive cars around - belonging, I assume, to the fancy homes above us. Some celebrities lives in these hills, but I've never spotted any. But then, they probably get their PAs to fetch their groceries, right?
|It's jacaranda time of year|
|It's about here that the home envy kicks in|
the towers of downtown LA. The other evening at sunset, the sun cast a pink glow off the sides of those skyscrapers. The sight felt incredibly, well, LA baby.
|Would you believe this is looking south, from the exact same spot as the previous photo? |
Downtown LA is in the very far distance.
Moments after hitting the shutter button for these last two photos, drama unfolded.
I was standing on a large pedestrian island in the middle of one side of a four-way intersection (with stop signs) when a white car came careening around, turning left, and stopping in the middle of the road - preventing other cars from getting past.
There was a crunching of gears changing, and I could see the male driver's arm furiously gesturing to the female passenger. Loud, angry words cut through the air.
I wasn't sure what to do next - their car had stopped in the direction I was heading.
Then, I'm pretty sure I heard the driver shouting, "Did you pull the trigger?"
I wasn't sure I'd heard correctly, but I suddenly felt trapped and very exposed on that pedestrian island. I looked around, not sure which way to run, or maybe duck down.
Did it occur to me to note the car model? Or the registration number?
Nope. I was in panic mode, and looking for escape.
Did I take a photo? Um, no, I was more concerned about possible bullets flying past.
Drama queen, I know.
It didn't occur to me to call 911, because I didn't have my phone on me.
A middle aged cyclist rode past me, looked at me, and shrugged his shoulders, as if to say, People, huh? What can you do?
Then the white car lurched forward, continuing its journey, while the female passenger screamed at the driver to get out of the car, repeatedly. The sound of her terrified screaming faded as the car disappeared into the distance.
Shaking, I crossed the road, and began walking home. About a block later, a dark blue SUV pulled up alongside me, and I recognised it as one of the cars that was at the intersection.
An older woman wound down her window, and called out to me. "Ma'am, did you see what happened back there?"
(This is where I confess that secretly enjoy it when an American addresses me as Ma'am - well, unless they happen to be moronic security guards)
So I walked over to her, and we talked about what we'd just seen. She was equally disturbed, and had the presence of mind to note the car model, and call 911 to tell them the direction this car was headed in. Thank god.
I have no idea what happened to those people in the car. Who was threatening who? But I was still shaking when I got home, and angry with myself for freezing like I did. It's hard, though, to know when not to get involved in something like that.
What a way to end a lovely afternoon stroll.
Later in the afternoon, I heard quite a few sirens in the distance, and my imagination began to run away, so I googled news in our neighbourhood.
Nothing turned up about a violent domestic dispute... but I did find out that Mario Lopez is one of the 'celebrities' that lives up in the hills nearby.
The vodka is kicking in now, so I'm okay...