L.A. Harbor
In 2005, I worked on a tugboat in L.A./ Long Beach Harbor.
The harbor is filled with structures. Old dry-docks crumble in the water. The Vincent Thomas Bridge suspends itself over the main channel, decked out in blue bright lights after dark. Mormon Island's gloomy chemical factories give you the evil eye from across the channel. The Coast Guard reserve point is like a little piece of Hawaii, with grass and palm trees, and little whitewashed sunny houses - it's a true rarity in the asphalt and concrete city that is the harbor. The hulls of the ships are rusted and corroded into streaks and color patterns that master painters would envy. The Southwest Marine building is haunted by movie production teams, which use its weathered rafters and open spaces for film sets. The cranes lift and lower their long necks, standing tall over everyone. Downtown Long Beach raises its skyscrapers in the distance.
One of the only times that I leave the docks is to go into town to wash my clothes. Wilmington, after being confined to a tugboat for three weeks, is a paradise. The white-shining brand-new Laundromat looks like the future. I walk down the street and buy a sugared heart from a pastelerķa. I drink horchata and it's the sweetest thing.
)
)
)
)
)
)
)
)
)
)
)
)
)
)
)
)
)
)
)
)
)
)
)
)
)
)
)
)
)
)
)
)
)
)
)
)
)
)
)
)
)
)
)
)
)
)
)
)
)
)
)
)
)
)
)
)
)
)
)