It only took me the walk from Terminal 2 to Parking 2 to shed Italy and slip into something more Los Angeles. I touched down, tuned in and dropped out of my Roman persona in five minutes.

Are you having a good time?

The answer is easy: I'm having a Time, a kind of soft-edged flashback to a former life, with different accessories like a Mutley stroller, granny heels and far less alcohol. Breakfast with babies at Chateau Marmont, Mommy & Me Yoga at Golden Bridge, and a faux double date in Silver Lake. And I am ridiculously happy doing absolutely nothing. It's the sunshine, which is
this Never Never Land's Can Do charm- I can do anything (or nothing) as long as it is 75 degrees and sunny.

In the five years of full time Rome, I never once found (nor wanted to find) a parallel to Los Angeles, aside from the palm trees. I love Los Angeles' bitchiness from a distance but prefer the coziness of Rome. However, right now, I can see a weird overlap of identities. The Roman boh is whatever in LA-speak. You know, that shrug that says "I don't know. I can't really help ya." But whereas boh has a hint of a smile (Rome is all about the humor of inconvenience), the Los Angeles whatever will have none of that, which is why there are freeway shootings.