Los Angeles

In 1905 Abbot Kinney dug a set of canals a few streets back from the beach and called the place Venice of America. By 1929 the car had caught on, and a number of them were filled in to make roads, which says most of what needs saying about the city's priorities. The canals that survived are lined with houses, and a day walking or cycling along them, then on the sand, takes some beating.

From there the Marvin Braude bike path runs north along the coast, past Santa Monica and on beyond it for anyone with the legs. Runyon Canyon, in Hollywood, starts two blocks above Hollywood Boulevard and climbs to a lookout over the whole sprawl. Everybody does it, and everybody is right to. An afternoon day party at a Santa Monica hotel is a different matter: we went to one, and would not send anyone we liked.

After years of living in New York and London, we would like to live here, and at the top of the list of reasons are the sea and a sun that shines all year, give or take June, when a marine layer known as June gloom can keep the coast grey through the morning. July and August are hot and smoggy, with the crowds at their peak. We went in the middle of October, and autumn and spring are the surest months for a visit.

We stayed in Venice, in an Airbnb with friends, and as a base it is a good one, the canals and the beach a few streets apart. Nowhere in Los Angeles, though, is a good base for seeing the rest of it. Downtown is where the more ambitious kitchens and bars have gathered, and reaching an 8pm table at Majordomo, north of Chinatown, took us 90 minutes from Venice in the rush hour. People who live here plan their days so as not to spend them in traffic, and we should have done the same: one part of town a day, and the crossings made outside the rush. Ninety minutes is a long time to look forward to dinner.