Los Angeles

Northeast LA's original streetcar suburb, where a chicken-headed man has more seniority than anyone on the boulevard.

A Japantown hiding in plain sight on the Westside, older than the freeways and prouder than either nickname.

A lake full of lotuses two miles from City Hall, where the dragon boats outrank the downtown skyline.

Fifty-two historic stairways wrapped around a retired reservoir, and everyone swears they climb them for the exercise.

Six canals from 1905 survived the fill-in crews, and the ducks never let anyone forget who was here first.

The neighborhood that never turns the lights off, anchored by a teal 1931 tower that refuses demolition on principle.

South LA's cultural front porch, where Sunday belongs to the drums and everyone else plans around them.

East LA adjacent, first across the river, where musicians wait for work under a kiosk Mexico sent as a gift.

Hillside village with a Gothic bridge nobody outside 90027 can find, and locals prefer it that way.

Quiet streets, one perfect Sunday market, and a bowling alley holding the fort since 1961.

Fifty-foot setbacks, a country club in the middle, and a row of 1928 palms the neighbors pay to keep.