Three Perfect Days: Houston
Story by Jacqueline Detwiler | Photography by Shannon O'Hara | Hemispheres, May 2018
Day 1
Exploring Chinatown with a famous chef
Houston is a place of many surprises, the first of which is that the humidity will go right ahead and do your hair for you. By the time I finish drinking coffee on my charming little opera balcony at Hotel ZaZa, which overlooks the city's live oak–lined Museum District, the bayou breeze has worked its magic, leaving my hair with more body than I thought possible. As far as hotel amenities go, I'm all for it.
My first stop this morning is a funky red-brick coffee shop called Blacksmith, for a croissant with crème fraîche and marmalade. I'm also meeting Chris Shepherd, who won the James Beard Best Chef Southwest award in 2014 and runs an ever-shifting restaurant empire on a few blocks of Houston's Montrose neighborhood.
Shepherd enters Blacksmith with so much hand-shaking and back-slapping that he might as well be the mayor. A big man with oversize opinions, he tends to say things like: “The Houston food scene needs to be about more than us. It needs to be about a city united." Diners at his most famous restaurant, Underbelly, leave with a list of local restaurants, farms, grocery stores, and bars that Shepherd recommends they visit before they come back.
“My lips have swollen up as if they've been stung by wasps, and I still can't stop eating."
One of the restaurants Shepherd advocates for is Crawfish & Noodles, a Vietnamese-Cajun joint in Chinatown that was recently featured (along with Shepherd) in David Chang's Netflix documentary series, Ugly Delicious. Shepherd is taking me there to meet chef Trong Nguyen, a Vietnamese immigrant (the Houston metro area has the third-largest population of Vietnamese in the U.S.) who is making some of the most exciting food in the country right now.
At a no-frills table in the back, Shepherd orders us a round of Tsingtao beers, sticky-sweet fish sauce chicken wings, fried salt and pepper blue crabs that we crack open to mine the sweet lump meat, and tender turkey neck with shallots fried so thin and chewy you could mistake them for noodles. Then there are the spicy garlic-butter crawfish, served in a bag that you have to cut open so they tumble out into a bowl alongside a potato or two and a fearsomely spice-slathered cut of corn cob. We rip the tails off and suck the heads in rapturous silence for a few minutes, until we're huffing and sniffling from the pepper. My lips have swollen up as if they've been stung by wasps, and I still can't stop eating.
“Who's got the stones to eat the corn?" Shepherd says with a laugh.
After lunch, he takes me on a tour of the neighborhood, stopping at a shop around the corner, Gio Lua Duc Huong, to pick up what he says is the best Vietnamese bologna in the city. Then he drops me back at Blacksmith, promising to meet up for drinks later.
To make room for dinner, I take a walk through Montrose, wandering streets lined with bars and restaurants and then rows of single-family houses whose porches are festooned with lanterns and whose pickup trucks sit beneath light-laced trees. Blame the weather: Houstonians love a good outdoor space.
About 15 minutes south of Blacksmith I find the Rothko Chapel, a nondenominational reflection space that Houston philanthropists Dominique and John de Menil commissioned from painter Mark Rothko back in 1964. (It opened in 1971.) Inside, benches and meditation pillows face 14 moody Rothko paintings, their brushstrokes uneven enough to suggest hidden realms receding into the distance, like when you put two mirrors across from each other. My favorite is a bluish one that looks like the nitrogen bubbles sinking into a Guinness. I mean, it's also just a plain blue square, of course. Rothkos are confusing.
After freshening up at the hotel, I head back to Montrose for dinner at Shepherd's Underbelly. Come July, the space that currently houses the restaurant will have been transformed into his latest venture, a steakhouse called Georgia James, while a smaller, nimbler version of Underbelly, UB Preserv, will have opened down the street, and Shepherd's One Fifth concept restaurant, which offers a new cuisine every year, will switch to Mediterranean. Confused? All you really need to remember is that Underbelly's signature dishes—Korean braised goat and dumplings, cha ca–style fish with turmeric and dill, and crispy market vegetables with caramelized fish sauce, which were inspired by Vietnamese wings like the ones at Crawfish & Noodles—will be available in perpetuity at Shepherd's hipster craft beer bar, Hay Merchant.
After I've eaten, Shepherd returns to join me for a drink at the nearby Anvil Bar & Refuge, a classic cocktail bar with a good-looking clientele, huge windows, and a flea-market Campari sign so cool I'd try to steal it if I could figure out how to get it in the car. Apparently, new bartenders at Anvil have to spend a night making every drink on the house list of 100 cocktails you should have once in your life, and selling them for just $1 apiece.
“Blame the weather: Houstonianslove a good outdoor space."
Tonight's bartender tells us there are going to be two of them tomorrow, which feels a little bit like that classic bar sign, "Free beer yesterday." No matter—I'll gladly pay full price for a cocktail as fun as the Weather Top, which arrives in a tiny coupe glass with a powdered sugar–covered rosemary sprig on top, like Christmas in spring.
Montrose is an ideal neighborhood for carousing—you can walk from bar to bar, and everyone seems to have the same starry-eyed idea about what nighttime is for. Shepherd and I have drinks. And then more drinks. “I can't believe we're opening three restaurants at the same time, and renovating our house," he says. He claps me on the back, a sign that I have been approved by the de facto mayor of Houston. “We're stupid," he says.
Eventually, I say goodnight and call an Uber to take me back to Hotel ZaZa, where I shout “Goodnight, shiny horse!" to the disco-ball equine standing astride the lobby koi pond, and then crawl, fully clothed, into bed.
Day 2
Getting to the root of "Houston, we have a problem"
OK, I need a donut. Actually, I heard rumors last night about something even better: kolaches, savory stuffed buns that are like a cross between a ham croissant and a King's Hawaiian roll, but with sausage. I decide to get one at Christy's Donuts & Kolaches, a no-nonsense pseudo-diner in Montrose. Under an enormous yellow sign, a few hardcore patrons read the newspaper, powdered sugar on their faces. I order two kolaches: a standard sausage, cheddar, and jalapeño, and a slightly larger one stuffed with boudin—crumbly, heavily spiced Cajun rice sausage. The latter can only be described as revelatory.
Next, I'm off on a 40-minute drive down to Space Center Houston, the only way you can get into NASA's Johnson Space Center without a chaperone or a government ID. Inside the museum, I turn into an excitable 10-year-old. I touch rocks from the moon and Mars and pretend I'm a superhero. I climb into a replica space shuttle—the Independence—and pretend to press all the buttons. I look at old spacesuits and buy astronaut ice cream and imagine being crammed into the minuscule Mercury 9 spacecraft (about which astronaut John Glenn once said, “You don't climb into the Mercury spacecraft; you put it on.")
Finally, I board a tram for a tour of the actual Johnson Space Center. The first stop is the historic Mission Control Center, which handled the Gemini and Apollo missions (Remember “Houston, we have a problem"?) until it was decommissioned in favor of a modern mission control center in 1995. The man who leads our tour reverently describes the dedication of the team that put humans on the moon using less computer memory than you could stash on a USB stick. It's sobering to learn a fact like that while looking at a room that could be a set in a 1960s period piece. What the heck have I done with all the power in my iPhone?
Next, we pass through the Space Vehicle Mockup Facility, where engineers are building a humanoid robot that is so dexterous it can turn a page without ripping it. A young boy leans over to his friend and says what I'm pretty sure everyone else is thinking: “I wish I had a LEGO set of this whole place!"
"I turn into a 10-year-old, touching rocks from the moon and pretending I'm a superhero."By the time I leave, I'm starving. Luckily, even from the highway it's impossible to miss the massive wood pavilion that marks Killen's Barbecue. The food here is so good—woody and smoky and wonderfully fattening—that there's a long line of folks waiting to get in. I order tender brisket, smoky pork ribs, tangy collard greens, beef ribs, and mac 'n' cheese so thick and gooey it's practically a solid block.
There's not much one can do after such a lunch, other than fall into a food coma or take a walk. I opt for the latter. Founded in 1986, Buffalo Bayou Park gives visitors a sense of what Houston was like before it was covered in cool restaurants and fancy offices. Surrounding a creek that flows from Katy, Texas, through the River Oaks neighborhood, and down to Galveston Bay, the park is a wild mix of Texas prairie flora, a haunting cistern that dates to 1926, a “lost" pond, and some unexpected wildlife.
The sun is setting when I enter the park, and I soon find myself waiting in a crowd next to a bridge, in the hope that the 250,000 members of the Waugh Drive Bat Colony will wake up and flitter out into the dusk in search of insects. Finally, they emerge, spiraling out in wispy curlicues. A hawk swoops by, trying to catch one, and the crowd makes disappointed “awww" noises when it misses, as if we're watching a football game. But then the hawk succeeds, and tears its prey to smithereens in a tree while everyone watches in horror and fascination. What is this, Yellowstone?
"Buffalo Bayou Park gives visitors a sense of what Houston was like before it was covered in cool restaurants and fancy offices."
Bats observed, I drive over to the Marriott Marquis, which towers over the downtown neighborhood of Avenida Houston like a Las Vegas casino. The marble lobby features intersecting arcs of grand chandeliers and fresh floral arrangements. From my corner room, which has almost more windows than walls, I look out onto Discovery Green, a park that hosts concerts and Saturday morning yoga and skating sessions in one of those plastic rinks that are ubiquitous in places with hot climates. I even have a view of the hotel's 530-foot-long neon-blue lazy river, shaped like the state of Texas.
Tonight's dinner is at the Marriott's restaurant, Xochi, an ode to Oaxacan food from Houston chef Hugo Ortega, who won the 2017 James Beard Award for Best Chef Southwest. Ortega grew up in Mexico City, learned to make masa while living on top of a mountain with his grandmother, and worked his way up in the restaurant world starting as a dishwasher. If all that doesn't establish this place's authenticity, the seven-piece mariachi band that's serenading an adorable Latina toddler when I walk in ought to do the trick.
I start with a mezcal old fashioned that's so smooth you forget it's mezcal—more like an expensive bourbon that decided to wear a cool hat. Then come the moles, four of them, ranging from a black one that takes two days to cook to a red one made with ants. These are followed by housemade queso fresco served with dollops of black bean and butternut puree, crispy gusanos (worms), and big, round ants, which taste like meaty Rice Krispies. Next comes an order of buttery baked oysters topped with yellow mole and roasted lime, which tastes so good I toy with the idea of moving to Mexico. Dessert is chocolate mousse topped with a chocolate branch with real leaves and flowers, washed down with a rich, creamy hot cocoa frothed tableside with a stick.
Do I go to sleep after this feast? Do you have any idea how much caffeine is in fresh hot cocoa? Near the Texas-shaped lazy river is an alluring rectangular fire pit. I grab my book and read a few chapters in the glow of the flames. When the crickets head off to bed, so do I.
"Then come the moles, ranging from a black mole that takes two days to cook to a red one made with ants."
Day 3
Two-stepping from honky-tonk to Heights
From my window, I can see a family playing in the lazy river, and given that I am still full from last night's dinner, I decide to join them, lolling around in the pool like a sea lion until I get hot and retreat inside. The sun! Where have you been all my life?
Sun makes me hungry, so I drive back to Montrose to hit up Goodnight Charlie's, which has just opened up shop for its Sunday High Noon brunch. The place is a hip Texas honky-tonk, and if that sounds like an oxymoron, it's only because so is one of its owners: David Keck, a former opera singer from Vermont who attended Columbia University and Juilliard and came up with the idea to open this place while studying for his Master Sommelier exam. (He's the 149th person in the U.S. to achieve the distinction.) “I'm kind of an obsessive person," Keck tells me as I sit down to eat. (You don't say.) “But country music and bourbon are two things that I feel no obligation to go down the rabbit hole about. I can just enjoy them. So there's something about Goodnight Charlie's that is just about having fun."
He's right about the fun: The stage is lit by pink and green neon cactus sculptures and a sheet-metal moon with punched-out stars. Behind the bar is a display that includes a 1970s Dolly Parton doll and a taxidermied armadillo holding a Topo Chico mineral water. I order breakfast tacos with chorizo, Yucatan-inspired cochinita pibil tacos with braised pork, and Mexico City–style cheese-steak tacos.
"There's something about Goodnight Charlie's that is just about having fun."From here, I drive up to the mellow, tree-lined Heights neighborhood to shop for souvenirs. At the top of some rickety wooden stairs I find Manready Mercantile, a pseudo–hunting lodge that sells flags and shirts and waxed canvas bags and man-scented candles made downstairs. I buy my boyfriend some bourbon-flavored toothpicks and myself a rose-and-musk candle from the $20 bargain bin. “They're working on a new scent, and these are the ones that aren't ready yet," the saleswoman tells me. I sniff. Smells ready to me.
Down the street, I poke my head into AG Antiques, where, inspired by Hotel ZaZa's disco horse, I gaze longingly at a 4-foot rose-quartz cow skull. I'm pretty sure it won't fit into my carry-on, so I leave it where it is and hope someone reading a major airline magazine will buy it and give it a good home. Just don't tell me about it, or I'll be jealous.
At last, it's time to eat some vegetables, and there is a perfect place for such an activity just down the street. Coltivare reminds me of a rustic Southern wedding reception: Globe lights are strung up across the backyard, which features a woodpile and happy people sitting in circles sipping rosé. There aren't many tables available, but I manage to score a seat in front of the open kitchen, where I can watch the cooks artfully arrange pizzas in a blazing oven. I order buttery bread with chicken liver mousse and a crisp fennel salad with avocado and local citrus, followed by a large bowl of cacio e pepe with tons of Parmesan and olive oil. Olives are a vegetable, right?
“Imagine Houston as a kid who went off to graduate school for mechanical engineering and still refuses to take off his cowboy boots."
To balance out this brush with healthy living, I head out in search of the diviest dive bar in town. I end up at Alice's Tall Texan, which, seated at the intersection of two drab streets, is the kind of place where you'd get an establishing shot of a movie villain as he drives up. Inside, a couple of old-timers tap their feet to an even older jukebox. “What'll it be?" asks the bartender, gesturing to the two taps, both of them Texas-born beers: Lone Star and Shiner. I choose Lone Star, and the bartender delivers it in a frosted chalice the size of my face. I have to use two hands to lift it. “That'll be three dollars," she says. Well, shoot.
I sit there and drink my mammoth three-dollar beer and watch some basketball and marvel at the idea that a place like this could exist down the street from a place like Coltivare. But the wonderful thing about Houston is that you wouldn't even think to question it. The hip and the traditional, the country and the city, the immigrant and the old-timer—they're all equally Houstonian, and sometimes they're all the very same restaurant. Imagine Houston as a kid who went off to graduate school for mechanical engineering but still refuses to take off his cowboy boots. Who wouldn't love a kid like that?
9:00 a.m.
In the Land of the Breakfast Taco, there are many choices. The correct one is Rosita's Al Pastor, a trailer parked in front of a strip-mall bingo hall on East Riverside. Feast on spicy chorizo and migas tacos, with optional salsa that is not optional.
10:00 a.m.
Pick up a Pace bike (download the app; rides cost just $1 for every 15 minutes) and pedal the Ann and Roy Butler Bike-and-Hike Trail along Lady Bird Lake. Park on South First and visit Esby, a boutique with breezy linen tops and minimalist leather bags, then pop over to local mainstay Allens Boots on South Congress to make your cowboy dreams come true with a pair of Luccheses.
12:30 a.m.
Even cowboys need to eat, so ride another 10 minutes to new Asian smokehouse Loro, the love child of James Beard Award darlings Franklin Barbecue and Uchi. Devour the lunch-only brisket sandwich and the burnt ends–laden candied kettle corn like there's no tomorrow, and wash it all down with a lychee Arnold Palmer.
2:00 p.m.
Trade the bike for a taxi and head over to The Bullock Texas State History Museum. Enjoy galleries covering the fall of the Alamo and the rise of oil production, plus a special exhibit about sci-fi Westerns, Cowboys in Space and Fantastic Worlds. You'll leave with clear eyes and a full heart—and a better understanding of Lone Star pride.
4:30 p.m.
A quick taxi ride gets you back to your digs at The Line, which opened on the enviable corner of Cesar Chavez and Congress in 2018. (Book now for SXSW 2020.) Drop those Luccheses in your bright, minimalist room (you'll love the topographically patterned headboard) and take a dip in the infinity pool overlooking Lady Bird Lake.
7:00 p.m.
You're not going far for dinner. Just off the lobby is Top Chef winner Kristen Kish's Arlo Grey, a dimly lit oasis with pale pink walls and white leather banquettes. Start with the luscious burrata, followed by the rabbit and dumplings nestled in an umami-rich broth you'll want to drink.
9:00 p.m.
You can't come to Austin and not catch some live music. Cab over to Mohawk, a venerable club with indoor and outdoor stages on Red River Street, near the Capitol. Grab a Shiner Bock at the bar outside, wiggle up to the front, and end your night on a high note.
At 3,800 square feet, the new club offers customers a place to unwind with 93 seats and 53 outlets ensuring your devices are charged and ready for the next leg of your journey. The menu selection was also curated with the cuisine of North Carolina in mind, from the Carolina BBQ with golden cornbread served in the evening to the homestyle biscuits and gravy served in the morning. There is also a Greek Yogurt bar for those looking for a healthier option along with libations served all day at the club's bar.
Hours of operation are from 5:00am to 7:30pm daily.
Lima for two nights
Your first taste of Peru should be its capital, the "City of Kings." Once little more than a stop-off en route to Machu Picchu, Lima has enjoyed a resurgence in recent years. The capital city has been revitalized by new hotels and bars, and it's fueled by museums and galleries that tell the story of a city dating back to 1535. Best of all, Lima has become the gastronomic capital of South America, with two entries inside the top 10 of the coveted World's 50 Best Restaurants list. The cuisine of Lima is inspired by indigenous ingredients, flavors and traditions from every corner of the globe. Stay at the grand, elegant and centrally-located Hilton Miraflores and get your bearings early by taking a half-day Lima Walks tour around the historic center. Then, attempt to get a table at one of those two celebrated restaurants — Central (the world's 6th best) and Maido (the 10th).
After two nights of exploration and glorious gluttony, it's time to depart and fly east.
Cusco for two nights
An hour's flight from Lima lies Cusco, a UNESCO World Heritage Site and key stop-off on the way to Machu Picchu. Climbing from Lima to Machu Picchu's near 8,000-foot altitude in one trip will likely bring on altitude sickness, so head to Cusco first. It's 11,000 feet above sea level, giving you the chance to acclimate at leisure as you explore what was once the capital of the Inca Empire. Check in at the historic Marriott hotel, Palacio Del Inka, built in 1438 and once part of the Inca Temple of the Sun. It's located close to the Plaza de Armas, the square at the heart of a very walkable city. Purchase a Boleto Turistico del Cusco pass, which gives you access to most of the historic sites in Cusco and along the Sacred Valley, excluding Machu Picchu. Take the 45-minute walk out to the remarkable Inca ruins of Sacsayhuaman that overlook the city, then walk back to Cusco via San Blas, a charming neighborhood full of galleries and boutiques. You'll want to reward yourself for the effort by stopping in at the Museo del Pisco for at least one pisco sour.
Soon enough, your thoughts will turn again to Machu Picchu. It's possible to do a day trip from Cusco to Machu Picchu and back. It's also possible (and very popular) to trek along the Sacred Valley, taking the classic Inca Trail over five days. But for this vacation, we're suggesting the more leisurely route, first taking a train from Cusco to Ollantaytambo.
Ollantaytambo for one night
Check out early and take a train 90 minutes northwest to "Ollanta," a beautiful small town full of cobbled streets and charming cafes deep in the Sacred Valley — the lush green valley just north of Cusco. Staying in the town will allow you to explore the incredible Inca ruins that dot the surrounding area when many of the other day-tripping tourists have gone. Apu Lodge and Casa de Wow are two excellent options for a brief overnight stay.
Aguas Calientes for one night
From Ollantaytambo, jump back on the train that will take you to Aguas Calientes, the last stop before Machu Picchu. Book at the town's standout hotel, the Inkaterra Machu Picchu Pueblo, and from there begin your climb up into the clouds — a strenuous 90-minute walk or 25-minute bus ride.
Machu Picchu gets crowded quickly, so make sure you book your tickets via the Ministerio de Cultura's website as far in advance as possible. Basic entry will get you into Machu Picchu's main ruins, terraces and temples. For more elevated views, you'll need to upgrade your ticket to include Montaña Machu Picchu, a mountain with no ruins but fewer crowds, or the smaller Huayna Picchu, where you'll find the ceremonial Temple of the Moon. Staying a night in Aguas Calientes allows you to return to Machu Picchu when it reopens at 6:00 a.m. to see it in a different light, and with less tourists.
After lunch, and perhaps an afternoon at Aguas Calientes' open-air thermal springs, catch the train back to Cusco for the final leg of your journey.
Pisco sour cocktail
Seafood Ceviche
Lima for one night
If time and budget allow, you can keep exploring Peru's other experiences: an Amazon boat cruise, hiking Cañón del Colca or rafting the Urubamba River. Our suggestion is to return to Cusco and fly back to Lima for one final night, purely to remind yourself of the city's standing as South America's gastronomic capital. Eat well once more and sleep in luxury at Hotel B, then fly home with a happy heart.
When to visit
Being a large country with many microclimates, there is no right time to visit Peru. However, if your whole journey revolves around Machu Picchu and making sure your photos have clear blue skies and sun-lit ruins, aim to visit between May and October when the weather is at its best. Avoid November through March during the rainy season.Things to know while visiting
- Machu Picchu translates as "Old Peak" or "Ancient Mountain," and its ruins were rediscovered in 1911 by the American archeologist Hiram Bingham.
- The Cerro Blanco in the Sechura Desert is the highest sand dune in the world, measuring 3,860 feet at its summit. It's perfect for sand boarding, and the descent takes four minutes at top speed.
- Peru is said to be home to more than 3,000 different varieties of potato.
- Memorize the popular phrase: "Soy mas Peruano que la papa." Translation: "I am more Peruvian than the potato".
United flies to Lima's Jorge Chavez International Airport (LIM), located just west of the city. To find out more or begin your adventure, visit www.united.com or use the United app.
The Hollywoods
There are four Hollywoods, each with its own flavor. West Hollywood (WeHo) hosts a thriving LGBTQ+ community with countless dance clubs and rooftop bars. North Hollywood's NoHo Arts District features dozens of theaters and galleries, especially on Lankershim Boulevard. Funky and ethnically diverse East Hollywood is home to Frank Lloyd Wright's Hollyhock House, a new UNESCO World Heritage Site, in Barnsdall Art Park. Then there's Hollywood itself, the birthplace of the film industry. It also boasts many theaters, a young and diverse population and attractions like the Hollywood Walk of Fame, Hollywood Museum and Hollywood Wax Museum on Hollywood Boulevard.
Arts District
Eleven art museums and galleries crowd the trendy, walkable Arts District near downtown L.A., including the Institute of Contemporary Art and the a+d (architecture and design) museum, which both opened since 2015. The district's abandoned warehouses now serve as canvasses for dozens of murals. Inside, there are artists' lofts, coffeehouses, restaurants, wine bars, distilleries and ROW DTLA, a former apparel factory now bursting with restaurants and specialty shops.
Little Tokyo
L.A.'s Chinatown has appeared in more movies and Koreatown is more populous, but Little Tokyo is the most visitor-friendly of the three downtown-area neighborhoods in L.A. once dominated by Asian immigrants. Although the percentage of Asian-American residents in Little Tokyo has shrunk to 40 percent, it's still America's largest "Japantown" and the city's cultural hub for Japanese-Americans. Discover why on First and Second Streets, home to many Japanese restaurants and shops housed in century-old buildings, and at the Japanese Village Plaza mall and Japanese American National Museum.
Silver Lake
Forbes has called it L.A.'s hippest neighborhood, but Silver Lake has more to offer than the chic-funky shops where Sunset and Santa Monica Boulevards converge. One block apart on Sunset, for example, you'll find one of L.A.'s best coffee bars (Intelligentsia) and gelaterias (Pazzo Gelato). Both are open late, so after browsing shops that sell everything a hipster needs, from surf-shop fashions to sassy sunglasses, you can get your caffeine or sugar fix at those spots before hitting The Black Cat for a craft cocktail.
Fairfax
Only New York City and Jerusalem have larger Jewish populations than L.A., and "Fairfax Village" — named for the commercial strip along Fairfax Avenue — is the city's historic center of Jewish culture. This includes the Los Angeles Museum of the Holocaust and Jewish/Israeli eateries that include a deli, bakery, bagelry, café and market. Also noteworthy in the district are L.A.'s original Farmers Market (open daily) and The Grove, an outdoor retail and entertainment complex. Young visitors favor the district's numerous streetwear and skate shops.
Highland Park
Highland Park, a neighborhood between downtown L.A. and Pasadena, is filled with stately Victorians and Craftsman homes, gastropubs and galleries, nightspots and artisan-pizza spots and a new marionette theater along York Boulevard and Figueroa Street. Then there's Highland Park Bowl, L.A.'s oldest bowling alley. The place, which opened in 1927, was recently transformed into one of America's classiest spots to roll a strike, with leather couches, chandeliers, wood-fired pizza and live music on most nights.
Westwood
Young travelers — and those who want to feel young again — must visit L.A.'s leading "college town," even though Westwood is only a district (not a town) and UCLA isn't even within its boundaries. It's right next to campus, though, and on weekend nights it seems that the entire student population of 45,000 fills the restaurants, pubs and shops on Westwood Boulevard. Even if you don't catch a play at Westwood's landmark Geffen Playhouse, you can choose among more than 1,000 annual events at UCLA.
If you go
L.A. boasts mild weather year-round — heat waves and rainstorms are rare — so anytime is a good time to visit. United Airlines offers numerous flights to Los Angeles from cities throughout the U.S. and worldwide. MileagePlus® Rewards can help pay for your hotel room. Go to united.com or use the United app to plan your L.A. getaway.
The festivities began at Newark International Airport early Wednesday morning, where customers on Flight 355, our celebratory Space City flight to Houston, were surprised to walk up to a lively and decorated gate. For customer Rosemary Herron, the surprise was particularly special. Her father was part of the team that assembled Apollo 11's lunar module. "What are the chances that I'd be on this flight?!" Mrs. Herron exclaimed. "I feel like my father is with me today." Customers were also thrilled to learn they'd be flying with two special guests, former NASA astronauts Peggy Whitson and Kevin Ford, who is now a United Boeing 767/757 First Officer in Houston.
"I was nine years old when Apollo 11 landed on the moon, and I remember the first steps they took. I thought, 'Wow, what a cool job! I'd love to be an astronaut,'" said Peggy. "It's really meaningful to me to be here today to commemorate that time. As we celebrate the anniversary, it's important to look back at the impact and the innovations that space has had on our society… it changed the way we live."
The celebrations continued onto the flight where customers found goodie bags on their seats, enjoyed space ice cream and participated in a trivia contest. NASA enthusiasts Flight Dispatcher Courtney Schaaf and Houston-based Ramp Service Employee Michael Caldwell jumped at the opportunity to be on the flight when they learned about United's commemorative event. "As a young kid, I was inspired by watching the moon landing, and I've enjoyed following anything to do with the space program ever since," said Michael. "When I saw that United was putting on this flight, I immediately jumped on it and bought a ticket so that I could be a part of it."Upon landing in Houston, the flight was met with a water cannon salute, which wowed both customers on the flight and ones looking on from the concourse.
