'I got you': A love letter to the people of LA
Reflections on Los Angeles, its people and lessons learned on public transport from a Berlin-based Scot.
I’ve been thinking a lot about LA since I visited in March, and in recent days during the protests against immigration raids.
This is a love letter to the city and the people who live there. It’s slightly longer than usual but please stick with it and let me know what you think. I hope you enjoy it🫶
It’s not supposed to rain in LA. This is the city of sunshine, the city of palm trees and bright blue skies (and a haze of pollution at all times). A city of cars and crazy, home to Hollywood and beautiful people. But not rain. It’s not the west coast of Scotland. Yet the moment I really bonded with this silly and serious place was during a torrential rain storm.
I had gone on an expedition to Koreatown on the metro. I had roamed along boulevards, breathing in exhaust fumes. I had a disappointing meal in a shopping centre (it was my fault, I panic ordered).
I had walked for miles to a bakery in a mini strip mall to secure two croissant-style Taikaya fish-shaped pastries filled with sweet potato and custard.
I popped them in my green tote bag, grease seeping out onto the paper they were wrapped in. Dark clouds rumbled above as I tried to navigate through random streets and queues of cars to get… somewhere. Back to the station?
What I realised was: it absolutely does rain in LA and: the people are wonderful.
Getting to know LA
I wasn’t meant to be solo in LA. But my boyfriend, who I was visiting, had to spend some days recovering at home after a health crisis. He encouraged me to explore.
Los Angeles County, home to nearly 10 million residents, is huge and daunting (especially to someone from a small country like Scotland). Without a car, I turned to public transport. I was a little fearful at first. People had warned me against using it. It does not have a great reputation.
But once I’d been on it a few times, I felt luckier than ever to experience more sides of this place. Not just the freeways and the polished parts, but the long bus journeys. Conversations with strangers.
Before I went to Koreatown to walk around like a clueless European (they really do not make it easy to be a pedestrian), I struck up a conversation with a guy outside the Copa Vida cafe in Pasadena.
He was from the Human Rights Campaign which supports LGBT+ communities. We chatted about the state of things, Trump, the world.
“We can’t believe how rights are being rolled back in the United States,” he said.
As we got onto other topics, he introduced himself. He had the same name as a former British Conservative Prime Minister. “I’m not like him,” he was keen to point out. We laughed about it and chatted some more.
Earlier in the week, hundreds of people were protesting against Trump and Musk on the main street in Old Pasadena, carrying posters with slogans like: “Friends don’t let friends drive Teslas”.
There was a friendly, upbeat atmosphere. Lots of boomers in attendance. Drivers beeped their car horns in support. A few people drove by in those robotic Tesla cyber trucks and were booed by the crowds.
At another anti-Trump gathering in Pasadena a week later, I waited for a delayed bus to the Huntington Museum and Botanical Gardens. When the 267 eventually arrived, the driver told me and the only other passenger: “Every bus is late. It’s the protest. We’re all backed up.”
I nodded and said: “Yeah, it’s super busy.”
“I don’t know,” said the driver, sounding exhausted. “I know I am worried about my 401K.”
A city of contradictions
On the way to Koreatown, I stood on the platform at a station in Downtown LA. A woman walked towards me repeating the mantra: “I am rich. I am rich. I am rich.”
For a moment there was nothing truer. I absolutely believed her. Then I noticed as she came closer that she was barefoot and had a duvet wrapped around her.
The train to North Hollywood stopped and shook up the station as people arrived and departed. Maybe that woman got on the train because I didn’t see her again. I thought about how she absolutely had star energy, how the pull of Hollywood was everywhere, even on the metro system.
LA is flawed. It doesn’t always look after its residents. There are glimpses everywhere of people in distress, people without homes, those with severe mental health challenges, signs of drugs and other social problems. This is not just an LA thing. It’s something I see regularly in Berlin (and is evident in other cities).
LA is also a place that looks after its people. On the trip I met my friend Trish who works for World Central Kitchen, a non-profit helping provide meals in places hit by tragedy.
Trish picked me up on a warm Monday morning and drove us to Altadena, where homes burned down in the wildfires of January 2025. We saw chimneys standing alone among dust and ashes. It was devastating.
We had coffee in Altadena as Trish told me about her work supporting communities. We met Rafa who lost her home and everything in it. She showed us where her home once stood and told us the owner plans to rebuild it for her family. A small Buddha statue in her garden survived.
Unexpected connections
In a Koreatown mall, I sat waiting for a vegetable curry in the spacious food court where all kinds of amazing snacks were on offer. Out of fear of nothing being vegetarian, and just generally being awkward, I’d ordered a pretty mediocre meal.
A young guy who worked elsewhere in the mall sat at my table. “You’re not Korean are you?”
“No, I’m not,” I smiled.
“I think we’re the only two people here who aren’t Korean,” he said. “But this place… it’s real. Everyone’s Korean here. You’ll get spicy food here. Really good for you. You’ll never be sick again if you eat this kind of food.”
I wish I had picked something better to eat, I thought. The kimchi pancakes looked so good on my table mate’s plate. But it was still a nice experience, and comforting to connect with a friendly face during my first solo outing in LA.
It reminded me of the easy chit-chat among strangers back home in Scotland, something I miss in Berlin.
****
Few things will humble you more than a 20-year-old Ariana Grande lookalike holding a mirror up to your face while you point out a rogue chin hair.
“Look at this thing,” I said, as the light flooded in through the window of the Sephora beauty store in Pasadena.
“Don’t worry! I got you!” the Ariana Grande lookalike kept saying, cheerily. “I got you!”
Aside from my whisker that I could not not un-notice, we chatted about Scotland (her sister was moving there) and inflation (everything is expensive!). I ended up buying a blusher and highlighter stick because I could not afford much else.
“I got you.” And I believe in that moment she did.
People say that LA (and the US in general) is superficial. I can understand where that comes from. Workers in the service industry are super polite because they want a good tip. It’s a transactional thing.
But I found it possible to see past that. What I understood was: People are trying. Really hard. People are funny, they are open, they are up for a chat. They want to connect. They are real.
Discovering all the sides of LA
Stuffed onto the metro on the way back from Koreatown, my white denim jacket soaked through, I watched people come home from work with big bags and a guy awkwardly try to fit his bicycle on the carriage. He kept moving it around, and those of us standing up were in a constant dance with him.
The metro trains are not very big. They reminded me of Glasgow’s tiny Subway. LA is upgrading its public transport system for the Olympic and Paralympic Games in 2028. They want to persuade people out of their cars (good luck with that).
I found the public transport charming, a little unpredictable and (most importantly) cheap. It offered me an opportunity to get around and feel more in touch with locals. This city, this county, this state that has so many different sides and so many different people from all over the world.
In Rosecrans Baldwin’s book, Everything Now, Lessons From the City-State of Los Angeles, local historian Sam Sweet says:
“LA is not a city that presents itself to you. It rewards you to the degree that you’re willing to unlock it. That’s always been the beauty of the city for me.”
I was grinning ear to ear walking back to Pasadena after I got off the metro train, still damp. Heading home to eat those delicious Taiyaki treats from Koreatown.
The sun came out, although the clouds above remained dramatic. I was surrounded by cars because not many people walk longer distances in LA.
I heard birds squawking and looked up. These bright green parrots were flying from tree to tree. Flapping around the leaves and the raindrops, shouting at each other.
What the hell? I thought. I had no idea that parrots flew around LA. They followed me right up the road (or I followed them). It’s not supposed to rain in LA. But this city is full of surprises.
Thank you so much for reading! Since this newsletter was a little on the long side, I’ll share my Kaffee+Kuchen recommendations in a future post ☕🤎
My friend Claire, who read this piece before I sent it out, said she thought of this song after reading it. It’s a gorgeous love letter to LA. Here it is in case you fancy listening:
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This was such a lovely read and perhaps the most on point description I’ve seen of US tipping culture in a long time. Yes, the kindness is part of a transaction. But it’s more than that. Although this is LA, not everyone is an actor. Passing kindness and friendly chitchat are the norm, in and outside the service industry. It’s something I miss as well living in Berlin. And kudos to you for getting around in public transit. I lived there for a summer internship years ago and remember far more vividly the warnings from people who never rode LA transit than I do any actual negative experiences on the bus or train.
Also, I loved the song. I listened to it while reading, while out the window, the guys at the barbershop on the corner were blasting Bob Marley. Harmonious moment! It's Friday morning 9:00 a.m. EST in NYC!