Coming to America

I’m not really much for milestones. My husband and I don’t really celebrate our birthdays beyond dinner and handwritten cards. Ditto for wedding anniversaries. Professional milestones come and go, more or less unnoticed, and I’m certainly not acknowledging the fact the my 20-year high school reunion is this year, although that’s more of an I’m-too-young-how-can-this-be kind of thing. It’s just not my jam. But today marks one year from the day we arrived in Los Angeles to embark on a brand new chapter, and I can’t help but call it out.

The hours leading up to our departure from our hometown of Vancouver, BC are so vivid, it’s like my psyche secretly tucked away those final moments because it knew I’d feel sentimental 365 days down the track. And wouldn’t you know it, my own subconscious was spot on. We had a great life that we were uprooting. But as I’ve written about before, that life became cyclical. Our friends were moving on to new adventures, many of them starting families and moving out of the city. California was our next step. Our foray into the unknown.

Two pieces of luggage each, some precious family photos that don’t exist digitally and a little black and white photograph of Vancouver that I ripped from the front of a tear-inducing farewell card a friend gave me were all we had room to bring. The first 6 weeks were spent bouncing between Air BnB’s while trying to figure out where we wanted to lay down some roots. Luckily, we followed longing over logic and settled on Venice, a neighbourhood in the midst of intense gentrification driving the cost of living through the roof. Nothing new to a couple of Vancouverites and we didn’t come to California to be landlocked. We needed to be near the sea.

In the past year we’ve created a home in a neighbourhood we love alongside neighbours we adore. We’ve made lifelong friends, established our careers here and adopted the cutest rescue pup you’ve ever laid eyes on (total crazy dog lady bias). We’ve road-tripped all over this great state with so much more to explore. We’ve built a life here.

The novelty of biking everywhere, walking around barefoot every day, having fruit grow on our trees in winter and watching pink sunsets adorned with silhouettes of palm trees from our kitchen window doesn’t get old. Not yet, anyway. I hope it never does.

I miss Canada, but mostly Canadian things. Like the CBC and maple tress in the fall and people who understand what I’m on about when I throw down a little French (you don’t realize how much you do it until you leave!). I miss Canadian values. I miss our families and our friends, who luckily are only a short plane ride away. I miss my girlfriends and the feeling of collective world domination that comes over me every time we get together and polish off a few bottles of wine. I miss writing from our “perch” in Yaletown, overlooking our rainy city. I think of those things often.

But as I write this, the sun is pouring into our little beach pad and the smell of orange blossoms is everywhere and I’m grateful. Grateful to our wonderful American friends, who despite what’s going on in the media at the moment are some of friendliest most welcoming people on the planet. I’m grateful my husband is just as happy as I am here. It’s been a wild ride, Cali. And we’re just getting started.

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Extreme close-up family selfie.

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Addict-turned-artist to Hollywood’s A-list: An Interview with Lincoln Townley

From facilitating lavish parties and lap dances in London’s seedy Soho district to portraying some of the most complex, celebrated and tormented souls in Hollywood, British contemporary artist Lincoln Townley has transformed his life through his art. Known for his ability to capture the turbulent energies of the unconscious mind that push the most creative and successful people to the edge of destruction, Townley has been commissioned to paint many of the world’s biggest stars, exhibiting his work in galleries all over the globe, including the National Gallery and the Royal Academy of Arts in London and Art Angels in Los Angeles.

You began your career working in the commercial vehicle industry, then you were offered to head up marketing and publicity for London’s infamous gentlemen’s club – Stringfellows. Today, you’re exhibiting your artwork all over the world, including Art Angels in Los Angeles and were commissioned by BAFTA LA to paint six honorees of the 2015 Britannia Awards. That’s a remarkable evolution! Have you always identified as an artist and when did you know this was the path you wanted to pursue?

I have always painted, even in my darkest moments in Soho I would paint horrific images, which I felt helped me with the deep anxiety I would suffer whilst using drink and drugs to such a degree. Then, 5 years ago, the painting took on a life of it’s own when I decided to get sober and take my art to a new level. I never thought it would hit this level at all, but hard work, talent and lots of luck and perseverance is my key to success.

Your book The Hunger chronicles your battle with addition to booze, drugs, women and really an ultra excessive lifestyle working in, as you describe it, the underbelly of London’s Soho neighborhood. What was the moment or instance you realized you needed to make a change?

I wanted to change because I found purpose; purpose in my painting and in my relationship with my wife, Denise. We had what we referred to as our “year of madness” together and I saw that what we had would get lost if we continued to drink and use drugs, so I gave up and three months later she followed. Denise concentrated on getting back to acting as she is an award-winning actress and I focused on my art and began to paint and position my work in shows across London which now continues and stretches across the world, which is incredible.

Did your sobriety influence your transition into the art world?

Absolutely without doubt my sobriety changed my life; I took control for the first time in many years. The art world is extremely hard to get in to and I’m still not “accepted” as a real artist. It’s crazy as, 5 years ago, I hammered on so many doors when I decided to show my work. I visited dozens of galleries and they would even laugh at me when I asked to talk to the gallery manager…but who’s laughing now? I’m constantly being asked to join shows across the world and show my work in galleries – it really is a fairytale story but it’s not been an easy transition. I’m now opening in galleries in San Francisco, New York, Dubai and St Petersburg as well as showing in Mayfair at Maddox Gallery and Art Angel in Beverly Hills.

Your ICONS Collection, a portrait series of iconic figures in the entertainment industry, is a mix of commissioned works as well as celebrities you have chosen as your subjects. What is it about a person, or in some cases their persona, which inspires you to portray them in your work?

It started as a project to paint people I felt had the ICON status (in the world of entertainment) but I wanted to choose famous people who I admired for their vision and determination to succeed in such a chaotic environment. I now have a whole collection of ICONS and it has organically grown into the position that I find famous people asking me to create their image in my style, which I am very honored to do if the face fits!

Of all your portraits, which subject did you relate to or identify with the most?

My meeting with Charlie Sheen when I delivered him his portrait was the most exhilarating experience. He got the vision I had when painting him and connected with the portrait immediately, telling The Independent “I had captured the essence of addiction.” We chatted for ages about the depth of the portrait and the feeling I had whilst painting it as I watched YouTube footage of his expression and feelings. I could really identify with his anger and feeling of being lost in the madness of addiction.

Sheen isn’t the only hard-partying actor on your ICONS roster. You’ve also painted the likes of Mickey Rourke, Nick Nolte and recovering addict-turned-activist Russell Brand. Would you say that your art saved your life?

My painting continues to keep me grounded and focused on producing art, which touches people. My ICONS collection is growing and my choice of ICON is based on the energy and charisma of my subjects. When I explained my methods of painting to BAFTA LA they fully understood my feelings behind the image itself and I feel that’s why they have continued to want to use me for this year’s Britannia Awards and I’m very much looking forward to see who they are honoring.

You’ve donated many of your pieces to help raise funds for the ABR Trust, for which both you and Brand are patrons, and A Sense of Home, an LA-based charity dedicated to creating homes for young people aging out of foster care. How important is it to you to be able to give back to these causes?

I adore both charities and they both have different places in my heart. My patronage at The ABR Trust with Russell is fabulous and I have raised tens of thousands for them and they continue to help and guide people who need help with drink and drug related issues. I will continue to paint portraits to raise awareness and funding whenever I can. Russell plays a huge role in getting the good of the charity out there, through his social media voice. I was introduced to A Sense of Home through Max Kennedy of the Kennedy family in the US. I have not only painted portraits for them but I have rolled up my sleeves and assisted some of the young amazing people they help to create homes for, and hung the odd mirror and even grabbed a paint brush! I think the energy of both these charities is motivating for me to give back and help those less fortunate than myself and I will continue to do so.

Keanu Reeves Portrait by Lincoln Townley - NEW

Keanu Reeves Portrait by Lincoln Townley

Robert Downey Jnr Portrait by Lincoln Townley - NEW

Robert Downey Jr. Portrait by Lincoln Townley

Venice Walk Streets

When I travel somewhere new, I’m always on the hunt for something way, way off the beaten path. Places where only the locals go. Sometimes, you’re lucky enough to discover these places all on your own. A wrong turn that transforms into a serendipitous discovery. An inadvertent tip from an overhead conversation in a coffee shop.

There’s a place in Venice that, for some reason, no one really talks about. It’s not as iconic as the Venice sign or as colourful as the boardwalk but it’s a welcome retreat from the crowds and turistas.

The Venice Walk Streets, a set of pedestrian only inland walkways dating back to the 1900s, were originally part of Abbot Kinney’s vision to create a city in SoCal modelled after it’s Italian namesake. When the walk streets were first developed, mostly entertainers and people who worked at the Venice Pier lived there. Today, the streets are lined with some of the most expensive real estate in Los Angeles. Julia Roberts lived there until recently.

Despite the influx of affluent residents, the walk streets have managed to maintain their magical appeal. Elaborate gardens, gateways and kitschy artefacts adorn each property as passers-by try to discreetly take a peek. A tree canopy keeps the walkways mostly shaded, making it one of best places to go for a stroll during the summer months. It’s a bit like falling down a rabbit hole and stepping out into another era, psychedelics not necessary.

Although a friend – and long time local – told me about the walk streets, I’m sure I would have found this part of Venice eventually. It’s easy to lose track of time wandering around this wacky neighbourhood. You never know who or what you’re going to find.

The walk streets are Nowita Place, Marco Place, Amoroso Place and Crescent Place. I recommend beginning at Lincoln Boulevard next to Painted Ladies and following Nowita all the way to Shell Ave.

Venice Walk Streets

Venice Walk Streets

Venice Walk Streets

Venice Walk Streets

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Giving LA Foster Youth A Sense of Home

When my husband and I decided to move to Los Angeles last spring, I distinctly remember a colleague of mine asking why we would want to live there. LA, as he put it, was the loneliest city in the world. From the moment we settled on Venice as our new home base, I’ve found the city to be quite the opposite, more inclusive and friendly than I ever imagined.

It wasn’t long before we knew most of our neighbors, something completely foreign to us, despite coming from a high-density city in Canada. We immediately hit it off with one of our neighbors in particular, after frequent run-ins at our communal barbecue. Before long we learned of the not-for-profit organization she and her partner have been building for the past year and decided to volunteer. In part, to meet new people and expand our network, but also because we were inspired by what they were doing.

That organization is A Sense of Home, a movement that sparked organically when co-founder Georgie Smith reached out to her network of friends to help a foster youth who was struggling to set up his first home. After posting his story on her Facebook page, donations began to pour in and before long his home was outfitted with everything he needed along with the knowledge that people really cared. Strangers, folks he had never met before, came together to ensure his first steps into adulthood were met with the love and support necessary to succeed.

Today, their goal is to change the lives of foster youth who have “aged out” of the foster care system by creating homes for them. Using donated furniture and housewares; volunteers work with these young people to help them realize their own sense of home – often for the first time, in the process, helping them achieve self-sufficiency.

When I think back to when I first moved out on my own, away from the comforts of my childhood home, I wasn’t sent out into the world with little more than some clothing and a few personal effects. Furniture, linens, useful hand-me-downs among other items were at my disposal to help me establish my first home of my own. Things that may not seem like a big deal to those of us who were fortunate to have had this support, but crucial to someone starting out with little to no resources. Crucial to a young persons sense of self and dignity. It’s not enough to have a roof over your head if the space inside is cold and unliveable.

In Los Angeles County alone, there are 35,000 youth in foster care right now. At age 18 or 21, state and federal support abruptly ends and the youth who aren’t adopted are ejected out of the foster system, many without the support of family or any community networks to help them make a successful transition into adulthood.

Which is why the work A Sense of Home is doing is so impactful. Many of these young people are smart, driven, kind and articulate, determined to lead fulfilling, productive lives. Something as simple as the kindness of strangers getting together to set up their first pad can go a long way in helping these kids realize their potential.

We volunteered on a blustery Sunday in South Central. The subject was a young woman in her early 20s, warm and gracious, greeting volunteers as they arrived.

The fourplex she calls home has an ancient fig tree towering overtop, peppering the sidewalk with overripe fruit. Despite the sticky residue left as a result of this beautiful but inconvenient vegetation, it seemed quaint. Idyllic even. Until we stepped inside to discover how sparse the furnishings were. Nothing more than a single bed pushed into one corner and a small table with one chair.

Before long, the front walk was lined with volunteers organizing and dusting off furniture, which would be placed according to a pre-determined floor plan mapped out by Smith and her team. Everything from large pieces of furniture to dishes, bedding and beautiful cut flowers, each piece placed with thoughtful and careful consideration.

The amount of people who showed up to help and the level of their enthusiasm were overwhelming, as I watched this young woman’s home come to life while (admittedly) struggling to install a curtain rod. It was clear to me, though, that this was more than just creating a home. It was evidence that people in the community cared. Really, it was an expression of love.

I’m grateful to be living alongside such wonderful people. This big, bad city isn’t at all lonely or uncaring as my colleague framed it. From what I’ve seen so far from our sleepy street in Venice, LA is a town full a generous people who are quietly and selflessly spreading kindness among those who need it most.

Originally published in the Huffington Post.

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Old Chinatown LA

There’s something very telling about a westernized city when it comes to it’s older, heritage hideaways. Are the pioneers who were among the first to establish multi-culturlism and commerce celebrated for settling in unchartered territory and helping to define a community? Or, are they segregated into one sect of a city’s outskirts or lesser-known avenues? I can’t decide yet which is the case in Los Angeles.

You have Chinatown, Koreatown, Little Tokyo, Little Sri Lanka, Historic Filipinotown, Little Bangladesh, Little Ethiopia…it’s all a little mind-bending. But, one thing I do appreciate about these designated pockets is that people who are looking for something outside of the Hollywood hullabaloo (yes, I just used that word), the beauty of diversity is abound.

With any modern city I visit, I’m always drawn to its Chinatown. San Francisco and Vancouver top my list of North American cities with the most colourful and overtly historical examples of Chinatown done right. So after nearly a year of living in LA, I finally spent an afternoon in our own little Chinatown.

In contrast to the more modern shops and restaurants of “new” Chinatown that line North Broadway beginning at the Twin Dragon Gate, old Chinatown is a tranquil refuge from the industrial feel of this part of town. It’s small, stretching a modest 2-3 city blocks but it’s vibrant and colourful and the perfect place to chill out and people watch over a bubble tea.

I also went there with a purpose, hunting for my favorite Chinese ointments that I’ve come to rely on over the years. Kwan loong oil, tiger balm, etc. There’s a great shop heading south just off the main square. A mix of hipsters and Sunday cyclists dominated the outdoor bistro tables at Blossom, a modern Vietnamese resto smack dab in the centre of this Chinese neighbourhood. And if Kung Fu and cocktails are your jam, snap a selfie with Bruce Lee forever immortalized by a giant statue, nunchucks in hand, followed by a Honeysuckle Sling at General Lee’s Bar.

With Chinese New Year only a week away, red lanterns and celebratory banners were easy to come by, all with different variations of how to spell it. Gung Hay Fat Choy, Kung Hei Fat Choy, or a combo of both.

It’s the year of the Monkey, so here’s what you need to know if you have a child set to arrive in 2016, according to a greeting card I found in one of the shops:

Monkey ranks ninth position in the Chinese Zodiac. They are cheerful and energetic by nature and usually represent flexibility. People under the sign of the Monkey are wise, intelligent, confident, charismatic, loyal, inventive and have leadership. The weaknesses of the Monkeys are being egotistical, arrogant, crafty, restless and snobbish.

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Bowie Tribute on Hollywood Boulevard

I can’t say I’m the biggest Bowie fan who ever lived. I love his music, his lyrics, how he transcended popular culture and made it okay ­– cool, even – to be whoever you want to be. But for me, what made him so special and virtually untouchable, was the level of influence he had on so many prolific pop stars and rock ‘n’ rollers who came after him. Which makes his contribution to music so far reaching he could almost touch Mars.

From Boy George and Madonna to Marilyn Manson and Arcade Fire, the diversity among the artists who cite Bowie as an inspiration speaks volumes for his body of work; a catalogue of timeless music that exists without boundaries or limits.

When Bowie first hit the scene, rock ‘n’ roll was a macho, predominantly male affair. Enter Ziggy Stardust, who dazzled the world while blurring gender lines and leaving a trail of glitter in his wake. He made it acceptable for male artists to explore their art form outside the confines of masculinity. My favorite frontman of all time, the late Scott Weiland, clearly emulated Bowie on stage. From his outlandish costumes and stage antics right down to his smudgy eyeliner.

When news of Bowie’s death hit, I did what just about everyone on the planet did. I binged on his music all day and looked for a way to pay tribute. Which, in Los Angeles, meant heading to Hollywood to light a candle and pour one out for our fallen starman. His star on the Walk of Fame brought mourners in droves, huddled in a circle singing and crying, obstructing the manic foot traffic of Hollywood Boulevard. I was stopped by a KTLA reporter and ended up on the evening news, inarticulately trying to paraphrase some of the sentiment I saw written in poems and letters across the makeshift shrine.

Afterwards, I ventured to Amoeba Music to sign a mural of messages from fans, buy a vintage concert shirt and eavesdrop on all the stories swirling around me. Favorite Bowie moments shared among strangers.

More than a musician, performance artist, otherworldly androgynous alien being or whatever else he may have meant to his fans, he was a symbol of inclusiveness just as much as he represented rebellion. Which, I think, is why we’ll always cherish him.

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Maya Rudolph & Gretchen Lieberum are Princess

I’m not really one for tribute bands. There’s this group Peace Frog who does a pretty solid tribute to The Doors every Sunday here in Venice, which I love because Jim Morrison and that era kind of define Venice and deserve to be honoured as such. But overall, most tribute bands are washed up impersonators, in my humble opinion.

Then one day I heard that Maya Rudolph had a Prince tribute band that was set to play two back-to-back shows at the Troubadour. All former notions aside, there’s no way I could resist this show. I have loved Prince since Purple Rain single-handedly forced me into puberty and Maya Rudolph is a comedic goddess, not to mention the Troub is my favorite LA venue. Worst-case scenario, it would be good for a laugh and a bit of a boogie, right?

Princess is a dynamic duo made up of two devoted Prince fans – Maya Rudolph and her best friend, jazz vocalist Gretchen Lieberum. Throw in a kickass backup band and some pseudo backup dancers who present her majesties with the appropriate stage props and accessories, and you’ve got a tribute show sure the melt any Prince fan into a pool of purple goo. Words eaten. All hail the tribute band!

Sure, the show has a comedic element to it. But it was clear from the second the ladies stepped on stage to open with Let’s Go Crazy – Rudolph donning a lace blindfold, no less – that we were dealing with legit Prince fans.

I’ve only seen his majesty live once. It was a sold-out stadium show in Vancouver, BC in 2013. Prince played for nearly 3 hours…and when the house lights came on, he kept going, despite his stage being torn down around him. The man is unstoppable!

I wasn’t sure how Prince would feel about Princess, but it turns out he’s a fan according to this interview Rudolph gave for LA Weekly upon meeting her idol.

“It was like the gates of heaven opening,” Rudolph says. “Gretchen and I got to meet him the last time he played in town. And he gave us both these big, nice hugs, and he said that he had our performance on Jimmy Fallon recorded on his DVR.” (side note: the backwards bit is kind of epic)

I’ve seen a lot of incredible live shows in LA this year, but I can’t say I had more fun than I did at the Princess show. If you’re in San Francisco in January, they’re playing SF Sketchfest.

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Santa Barbara’s Funk Zone

The beautiful thing about living in LA is the number of cool neighbouring communities reachable by short road trip. The fact that I can bomb up to Big Sur after work in time for last call or be in Palm Springs within one rotation of Exile on Main St. is kind of epic.

While on a flight home a few weeks ago, I struck up a convo with the fellow seated next to me after he looked visibly concerned when our plane hit some bad turbulence. I reassured him it was the just the Santa Ana winds and tried to distract him by mentioning my plans to head to Santa Barbara the next day. As he loosened his sweaty grip from our mutual armrest, he suggested I look into the Urban Wine Trail while I was there.

Santa Barbara always seemed like a place for romantic mini-breaks or an opportunity to meander in a Montecito farmer’s market in hopes of bumping into Oprah. So when we stumbled upon this emerging scene of hipster sommeliers redefining Santa’s Barbara’s downtown core, we knew this must be the wine trail my nervous seat mate was on about.

Aptly named the Funk Zone, about 20 wineries from Santa Barbara County have opened tasting rooms within a 3-block radius, creating a unique way to experience California wines on the cheap. Tastings are about $12 a pop, and can be shared between two people. It’s also a good way to prevent day drunkenness, unless a) that’s your objective or b) you’re one of those people who actually discards their wine into a spittoon.

If you just have an afternoon to get your Funk on, hit up these four spots first:

Area 5.1 – owned by an Aussie who named the place after his ‘alien status’ when first arriving in the US, the blends will seem bizarre at first but also kind of genius.

Riverbench Winery – you’ll be drawn in by the chards by you’ll stay a little longer for the bubbles.

Oreana Winery – cool outdoor space, some well-versed vintners with very creative tasting notes and the only California winery I’ve found (so far) with a good Verdelho.

Santa Barbara Winery – start with an olive oil tasting and follow the patio lights to the back for a glass of pinot in the barrel room.

Be sure to give yourself time for the drive along the PCH between Santa Barbara and Santa Monica. It’s desolate landscapes and pop-up sand dunes make for a dreamy trip.

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santa-barbara

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Pappy & Harriet’s

Los Angeles is known for attracting, inspiring and launching the careers of rock stars from all over the world, this we know. It’s also known for an unmatched live music scene with more venues than any other city in the US. From massive stadiums all the way down to dark little dive bars, the vibe is legit.

While there’s no shortage of live shows every night of the week in LA county, there’s a place – a strange and kitschy little place – about 2.5 hours east that stands out among the rest. A “palace” perched atop a long and winding desert road to nowhere in the Yucca Valley, where artists like Robert Plant and Vampire Weekend have graced it’s storied stage.

Pappy & Harriet’s, a cabaret style roadhouse situated on the edge of the Mojave Desert in Pioneertown, is almost too good to be true. I had read about bands I love dropping in for surprise appearances, and given the bars remote location, I had to see for myself what was drawing people there.

The road from Yucca is kind of a trip, especially at night. You immediately begin to climb in elevation, in complete darkness, save a few random folks who call the valley home. We did spot a massive pine tree decked out in twinkling Christmas lights on the edge of a cliff with no visible house nearby. How they got there is a mystery.

The moment you pull up, you’re hit with the intoxicating smell of mesquite barbecue smoking out back. The bar is part of a small village founded in 1946 by Hollywood filmmakers who intended to create a living movie set for western pictures. With facades based on an 1870s frontier town, it feels a little like Wyatt Earp will rise from the dead and challenge you to a duel at any moment.

A mix of bikers, old folks, families and cool kids clasping their bourbon-filled mason jars filled the place. While the food is worth the trip alone, we were there for the music. Anthony D’Amato opened with an acoustic set; he and his guitar and harmonica had a big enough sound to match an entire band. Then the headliners, Israel Nash, hit the stage and as D’Amato put it, launched into a set that would melt our faces off. Think Harvest Moon era Neil Young meets The Who meets rockabilly. Fuck, is that even possible? Maybe it was the electro-magnetic air, maybe it was the whiskey but it was the perfect soundtrack for a wild night in the desert.

We couldn’t help but alter our plans to return the next day before heading back to the city. It was worth it. A trip to the California desert isn’t complete without wetting your whistle at Pappy’s alongside the gnarly locals and bright-eyed hipsters. Even for a first-timer, I felt right at home.

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pappy-&-harriets

pappy-&-harriets

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pappy-&-harriets

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Chasing Comets at Malibu Café

The sun sets before 5pm in SoCal this time of year, so by the time we made our way down the Pacific Coast Highway en route to Malibu, the only light left was a thin stretch of pink lining the horizon. After following the PCH past Paradise Cove, we ventured up a long, winding mountain road with random mega-mansions coming into sight every few minutes, ears popping as we climbed in elevation. Finally, we reached the expansive grounds of the Malibu Café at Calamigos Ranch, white twinkling lights that seemed to be dripping from the trees our only clue we were in the right spot.

Described as a nouveau barbeque experience, the first thing that struck me as we moved past the pool tables and outdoor cocktail bars was the smell of the trees. Nothing makes me miss living in British Columbia like being deprived of an old-growth forest and people in plaid. Here, though, I felt right at home.

The only way to properly describe this place is to call it camp for adults. There are games to play – ping pong, cornhole and giant jenga – and craft cocktails to be had, not to mention a wine list showcasing some of the regions best. It’s basically paradise for a nature loving wino like me. The beach is great, but give me 150-year-old coulter pines and gnarly old oak trees any day.

We were there to meet friends for the first annual harvest dinner, a four course feast with wine pairings from Napa’s Regusci Winery. While enjoying a pre-dinner libation, a massive light in the sky appeared out of the nowhere and began to grow, spraying behind it what looked to be stardust or sparks until it exploded and dissipated, leaving a long blue trail of light in it’s wake. One of our servers suggested it might be a comet smashing into the atmosphere, as celestial events were a lot more visible from where we stood. Our group marvelled at our luck, as most people didn’t seem to notice the magnificent explosion. Of course, as noted by every major media outlet in the country the next day, our magical comet turned out to be the military, you know, testing a missile launch. I’m grateful we didn’t know it at the time.

It’s best to bundle up, despite the grounds being equipped with heaters, fire pits and complimentary blankets. Evenings are finally chilly in LA, especially in the mountains. It’s easy to get there by taxi or Uber, but don’t count on it the other way around. I would recommend driving or carpooling with friends. Either way, the trek is well worth it. Next time we plan to go for brunch to enjoy the grounds by day, or a late lunch to experience the best of both worlds.

Visit themalibucafe.com for more info.

malibu-cafe

malibu-cafe

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