Lotusland: 02 – The View of the Mountains

Bomb Shelters, Staircases, and the Oldest Japanese Restaurant in LA.

March 9th, 2023
Thai Town →  Silverlake → Echo Park → Chinatown → Boyle Heights
[14.65 miles]

Walk Map

I’d argue the highest concentration of port-o-potties in the City of Los Angeles is likely found in the neighborhood of Silver Lake – just south of the reservoir.  Up in those hills are well maintained homes with epic backyard views of the San Gabriel Mountains. Home improvements and major renovations are no joke to those who live there. On every block, is at least one team of contractors working on a house – painting, building new decks, gutting interiors or building entirely new structures – with their trucks parked in the driveway beside a temporary and unlocked port-o-potty for worker’s use. I made use of them as much as I could.

The weather was gorgeous today. Life affirming conditions. Another perfect day for a walk. I planned to follow Sunset Boulevard all the way to Figueroa Street where it turns into Cesar Chavez Avenue and then continue across the LA River into Boyle Heights. Silver Lake was supposed to be a minor footnote of the day’s activities.

I’d marched all the way from Thai Town to Silver Lake just to walk one of many staircases peppered throughout the hilly neighborhood. These staircases aren’t unique to Silverlake, in fact, there are supposedly more than 200+ staircases throughout the city. All built in the early 20th Century to assist Angelenos making their way from their hilltop neighborhoods to the Pacific Electric transit system, which was once the largest electric rail system in the United States. The old West Olive Substation supplied electric power to the various lines that ran along Sunset Boulevard and sits at the bottom of the hill. Pacific Electric no longer exists. The building now functions as  the offices of Epitaph Records. 

I’m not used to climbing hills—not to mention long staircases—during a walk. Throughout the morning, I was sweating. Even panting. New York City, despite its elevation, is flat in comparison to Los Angeles.

The staircases of Silverlake are often tucked away at the end of winding streets and run through the backyards of resident’s homes. They are seemingly private as you can see right into the windows of someone's kitchen or living room, (I almost felt like I was trespassing in some instances), but open to the public, celebrated, written about, and even featured in movies. The views at the top are always worth the physical strain, often revealing – dare I say *breathtaking* views of the San Gabriel Mountains.

I can’t imagine getting used to the rugged landscape out here…or the palm trees, native flowers, hummingbirds, and weather. 

I heard about the upcoming rain throughout the entire day.  An older woman warned me that a storm was coming tomorrow. Stay safe, she said while taking a drag of her cigarette. While waiting in line at McDonalds, two customers debated whether storms would be as bad as last week’s historic precipitation. On the sidewalk, a man played the news on a portable radio sitting on his lap. More winter weather predicted for California. 

As I write this, rain is predicted for the next four out of five upcoming days. Although it’s unclear whether showers will actually be consistent. I’m unfamiliar with the weather patterns of Southern California, but the upcoming storms appear…not much for concern? At least in the city proper. Rain or shine, I will walk. 

Thankfully, the last two days have been nothing but sunshine, although I’ll admit I’ve developed a bad habit. I usually don’t wear sunglasses while walking and taking photos. Instead I wear a hat, which does not combat UV rays, but I have my reasons. Sunglasses make it hard to read the landscape. The lenses distort the colors and make it difficult to look through my camera’s viewfinder. I learned my lesson yesterday. Sunglasses are absolutely necessary given the sun. My cheeks and neck are already sunburnt. I didn’t know it until looking in the mirror and seeing the pink face staring back at me.

I’ve made another habit: walking into stores and snapping pictures. Sometimes the practice leads to conversation with store employees, although not always. Today the cashier of a grocery store yelled and told me to leave. 

Excuse me, sir! No pictures. You need a permit. 

Is every place of business a potential film location in Los Angeles?

Much later in the afternoon, while walking Ceasar Chavez in Boyle Heights, I walked into a barber shop and was greeted by two hairdressers. I asked to take a picture of the interior, prompting a friendly conversation concerning the “ongoing” New York City vs. Los Angeles dichotomy. We joked, the conversation was engaging, and I didn’t even get their names. Until next time. 

I was walking Angelino Heights, second only to the neighborhood of Bunker Hill (at least what’s left of it) in age. The area is filled with Victorian homes. The highest concentration in the city. 

Richard and Kim approached me as I sat on a bench in Marion Park (the park is essentially a grass island resting in the middle of a five way intersection). 

Do you know who this park is named after?

I did not. Together they spoke a different language, rattling facts about the neighborhood and its many historic homes. Apparently, they organized walking tours throughout the city. Now they were giving me a private tour of the neighborhood and showing me every home mentioned on their latest tour concerning Angelino Heights. 

We just crossed Carole Street when Kim pulled me aside.

Would you like to see the bomb shelter?

Sure enough, on the ivy covered foundation of a hill-top home was a locked steel door. Kim knocked on the surface several times to demonstrate the door’s thickness. I heard a distant echo. 

The door’s been here since the 50’s. Noone has the key anymore. Nobody knows what’s inside.

I parted ways with Kim and Richard. Could have spent the rest of the afternoon talking with them, but I had places to be and was feeling a bit pressed if I was to make it to Boyle Heights at a decent hour. 

I continued on Sunset Boulevard, walked up to Alpine Street, and passed through Chinatown. School was out and children filled the sidewalks. My stomach rumbled. In the distance I could see the San Gabriel Mountains once again and stopped to admire their beauty.

Later, while walking the Caesar Chavez Bridge, I stopped again for another view.

Further down the road, I encountered a Muffler Man named Sergio (one of seven in Los Angeles as of 2015). These 18–25 foot fiberglass giants are no longer in production, but can be found standing throughout the United States. They were originally produced in Venice, California in the 60’s and 70’s by International Fiberglass (now defunct). Businesses installed them to attract potential roadside customers.

Given they were produced by a fiberglass mold, there wasn’t much room for customization during their fabrication. The hands are almost always in the same configuration because the first Muffler Man was modeled after Paul Bunyan holding an ax. Businesses took their liberties, painted them different colors, and swapped out the ax for various objects. Derivatives of the figure were widely used to wield swords, buckets of chicken, hoagies, eating utensils, and full-sized car mufflers.

Time for food and Otomisan opened in ten minutes. Online reviews recommended customers arrive early, as a line typically formed outside the door. I was the first to arrive and lingered on the sidewalk. Yayoi Watanabe, the owner of the restaurant, could sense my hunger and promptly waved me inside, seating me at a booth beside the door. I’m glad I arrived early. The booths and bar filled within twenty minutes of opening.

The restaurant opened in 1956 by Japanese immigrants and is the longest standing Japanese restaurant in Los Angeles. In the early 20th century, Boyle Heights was home to the largest concentration of Japanese immigrants in the city beside Little Tokyo. Nowadays, the area has one of the largest Latino populations in Los Angeles County. Otomisan is a relic of a nearly forgotten era of Boyle Heights. Vice published a short video about the restaurant in January, which was widely shared (I heard multiple patrons mention the video during my meal).

Trinkets and pictures line the walls. Maneki-neko, Dodgers hats, figurines, children’s drawings, and ‘thank you’ notes from long-time customers. Paint peels from the ceiling. Walls are off-white. A color you cannot buy from the paint store and is only earned with age. 

Are you ready to order?

I ordered pork tonkatsu, miso soup, and hot tea. All of which was promptly devoured and delicious. The food isn’t necessarily the best Japanese you’ll ever have, but it does feel homemade, as if you’re sitting in Yayoi’s kitchen. You can’t find that at most restaurants these days. Much needed after a long day’s walk. 

I sat in the booth for a while after finishing my meal. My feet were sore and could use the rest. I realized I don’t take many breaks throughout the day. I’m just so eager to see everything I can – an impossible task. Always walking, walking, walking, but the interior of Otomisan gave much to look at. 

From Otomison, I hopped on a westbound bus and transferred to the train downtown. In just over an hour, I was back where I started my day. Navigating Los Angeles public transit has been a breeze. The buses out here are especially good. Smooth sailing. 

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So much to write, but so little time. Fingers crossed for walkable rains tomorrow. Thanks as always for tuning in. Looking forward to sharing. 

Good night,
Alex

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