Excess

My initial days back in Los Angeles, post my month long jaunt to Southeast Asia, I can only see the excess in America.  Waste seems to be everywhere, not like in the streets of Vietnam where trash was strewn on the road, but in how much money is squandered.  Last night I met a friend for dinner at a casual neighborhood restaurant and ordered a bowl of lentil soup.  The portion size was humongous.  Seriously, six people could have been served a normal portion from my dish and there still would have been some left over.  After two spoonfuls, I was disappointed.  It was tasty, but lukewarm so I asked the waiter to reheat it.   Instead of taking my massive bowl and nuking it, he brought me a new entree.  As if I was still in a country where English wasn't the primary language I tried to explain that I didn't want a new serving, just a hotter one, but it was too late. The bowls were switched, my first one most likely headed for the garbage disposal.  I flashed on a particular afternoon in Cambodia.  After shopping in the Russian market, LN ordered banh xeo, a savory pork and shrimp pancake, from an outdoor street stall.  We were about to leave the table, her unfinished portion barely out of her hands, when a guy scooped in to eat the leftovers before they landed in the trash receptacle.  I was both repulsed and in awe as I watched his dirty, bony fingers dip the omelet in nuoc cham and savor his first bite.  The lentil soup episode was followed by going to see one of my favorite bands, The Kin, at a showcase in West Hollywood.  We were only in the parking structure of Soho House, a members only club, and I already felt like a foreigner among the throngs of girls in impossibly high heals and guys trying to look cool in black jackets and sneakers.  We were escorted to the penthouse by a guy from the record label, and then led down several long, narrow hallways painted the color of the sea on a moody overcast morning.  Finally, a door opened and we were led into a large chic room with a thirty foot wooden bar on one side, and expansive floor to ceiling windows with views of the twinkling city on the other.  The bar was open, the crowd young and hip.  Luxurious, understated comfort dripping from every corner.  Waldo Fernandez, the interior designer, has described the hangout as old Hollywood glamour with allusions to an English gentleman's club.  At 11:30 we were escorted, again, into a state of the art screening room, with plush red velvet chairs and ottomans.  Driving home, passing expensive, shiny cars I thought, what an odd looking recession.