I’ve spent plenty of time on the other side of the Santa Monica Mountains, in the more glamorous precincts of central Los Angeles, but during a decade’s worth of visits with my wife to both sides of the “hill” — as those mountains, and the perceived cultural divide they represent, are affectionately known — I’ve come to an interesting conclusion: I tend to prefer the Valley. Sure, it’s got strip malls and strip clubs in equal abundance, and it lacks the chic cachet that so many people associate with Los Angeles. But that lack of hipness is exactly its charm.
