This is one of the two articles in the Arriving/Leaving LA series; read Joy’s take, too.

Perhaps, it was because we arrived at night, but the entry into LA was less of an assault of concrete and traffic than I had been expecting.

There was no wait behind rows of car exhaust, engines humming, fingers tapping impatiently as passive aggression builds. Just lanes of freeway extending into the night, the periodic glow of faintly lurid-looking strip malls, and palm trees standing tall and silent. I liked the breeze; it was cool but mild. We were finally in flipflop country, and it felt just right after a day of fresh sea air tinged with salt and pine.

My right arm stung a little. I’d forgotten that it had been under the sun for most of the afternoon as we wound our way down Highway 1.

I had been to LA once a decade ago, for about a week, on a Hollywood-discovery trip organized by alumni. At that time, I fancied working in the film industry after college. The trip quickly taught me the limits of what I could and couldn’t handle in a city and in a career.

For some, the lifeblood of money, creativity, image and occasional artistry was the ultimate fix. For me, the prospect of endless deal-making, relationship-building and commercialized creativity drained my soul (which I incidentally didn’t know existed until I felt it dying a bit every day in LA).

The sun, sea, and strip malls all seemed to blend into one giant Hollywood conspiracy, where dreams looked immaculate far away but seemed sordid and even prosaic up close.

This time around, my mindset was different. There was no pressure to suss out and fit in with a potential industry and lifestyle. And the bar of low expectations had already been set by the caricature of a soulless megatropolis imprinted in my mind. I didn’t feel like taking either LA or myself too seriously because I was on holiday with my friend.

We weren’t seeking a long-term relationship with the city, just a weekend fling where we could indulge in its excesses even as we judged its denizens for doing the same. This time, I didn’t come to live the dream but to experience it. And it was going to be fun.

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By Jia Jia
Photograph by Maury