A couple of weeks ago, the First Lady of Inkville attended a work conference in her professional capacity. I tagged along to Los Angeles in a decidedly un-professional capacity. Still addled on the rum-soaked fumes of the Northwest TikiKon earlier this month, I decided to cram as much Polynesian pop as possible into my visit, with one goal in mind: Tiki pilgrimage.
And what Los Angeles Tiki travel would be complete without a visit to the Enchanted Tiki Room in Disneyland? The entirety of the Adventureland portion of the park is pretty Tiki-tastic, but the Tiki room (complete with its delicious and overpriced pineapple Dole whip) remains the Genesis moment for many Tikiphiles' obsession, including that of your intrepid guide.
Spoiler alert: those Tikis totally come to life.
After working up a sweat escaping the Haunted Mansion and whining about the insertion of Johnny Depp mannequins into the original Pirates of the Caribbean, we adjourned to downtown L.A. to quench our thirst at the Trader Vic's:
And yes, my drink is the obscene one.
We retired to our hotel, which happened to be just a block from another L.A. landmark of midcentury kitsch: the Pantry diner. Like the tagline says: "Since 1924, never closed, never without a customer." Never. Ever. And hey, bonus: this is the perfect place to pretend you're Marty McFly, about to insult Biff and tear out of the building to rip some kid's soapbox scooter in half.
We were up early the next morning, ready to hit the freeway like good little Angelinos, and made the quick 30-minute trek westward to the town of Whittier, home to an incredible warehouse that has long supplied we castaways on the shores of Tikiana a place to call our own Garden of Eden: Oceanic Arts, since the 1950s, the purveyor of thatch, rattan, plastic parrots, and many, many Tikis. Dig:
Now THAT is what I call the Spirit of Aloha!
Oceanic Arts features far, far too many amazing sights, sounds, and friendly faces for me to adequately summarize here, everything from vintage Hawaiiana to authentic wooden carvings to plastic party favors. So much, in fact, that a guy could easily get lost. Can you play "Spot the Haole" in this next shot?
Much of my wife's 2010 birthday shopping for me took place over the ensuing 45 minutes in the impressive tiki mug collection, a birthday that is still sadly several months away, so I can't yet get my damn dirty paws on the loot. Frowny emoticon. Suffice to say, any fellow travelers navigating the jungles of midcentury modern nostalgia owe themselves a trip to Oceanic Arts, an experience that was heightened as original co-owner Bob Van Oosting regaled us with tales of travels to New Guinea and starting out in the Tiki business.
Unfortunately we weren't able to check out the Tiki Ti, L.A.'s legendary (and tiny) Tiki bar. A nearby street carnival had boosted foot traffic to the place, and we didn't feel like jockeying with the hipsters, so we didn't even look for a parking space. Rassa frassin' civic pride! Next time, Los Angeles.
There's so much more to tell. While the wife was at her conference, I hit several other SoCal sites that would appeal to the midcentury enthusiast, including retrospective museum exhibitions dedicated to the films of animators Chuck Jones and Ray Harryhausen (each of whom had an enormous impact on my formative years), pop culture emporium Wacko, and the bizarre and intriguing Museum of Jurassic Technology.
But this blog entry is already too long, especially for those you attempting to read it while tipsy. So I'll just sign off by thanking my friend and the Kahuna of Tiki Magazine, Nick Camara, for all the suggestions of sights to see, and seal this entry with a kiss.
Mahalo for reading! Aloha!
Wow. Just another thing for me to add to my "What do I miss about California" list.
Posted by: Martina Baker | September 1, 2010 at 10:05 PM