Saddle sore
I'm back, and I am saddle sore. Riding a Clydesdale and then spending six hours the next day confined to a plane seat is a recipe for sore thighs, friends. Don't say I never taught you anything.
So riding a Clydesdale horse through a beautiful canyon was definitely a highlight of my LA trip. Others included the weather (sun! heat!) the smell of the air (ocean! jasmine!) and the places we visited. The Gamble House in Pasadena was extraordinary. If I thought I could have succeeded in obtaining squatter's rights, by gum I would have tried. The Getty was lovely, though I was underwhelmed by the Getty Villa. I would have happily spent a month exploring Huntington Gardens. Even the books I brought to read during the journey were beyond the usual enjoyment. Paul Auster's The New York Trilogy? Oh, man. The intro to City of Glass had my arm hairs all on end.
All in all, an amazing trip to a part of the country I'd never been before, and that I enjoyed far more than I'd anticipated. Now, I just have to adjust back to cold temperatures and overcast skies. Boo hoo.