A few laps around Echo Park's serene, water-lily-filled lake does a body good—and a cup of coffee from Square One at the Boathouse soothes the soul. Yet I will forever be drawn to the history of the nearby Foursquare Church and one of L.A.'s most unique characters, Aimee Semple McPherson, the woman who singlehandedly turned religious services into theater. Visit Sister Aimee's home, the parsonage, and learn about her multifaceted life, loves and the scandals that persist beyond her death in 1944.

Red Naugahyde booths, gold-framed paintings glistening in the dim lighting, crusty sourdough bread, a martini, and rare sirloin make Taylor's the best steakhouse in town. Grandpa raised me on steak and potatoes, but it was Taylor's that convinced me creamed spinach has a place on heaven's dinner table.

A green plateau overlooking the Pacific is a tranquil spot by itself, but the intricate and inspiring Korean Bell of Friendship adds a romantic focal point. Whether the blue horizon is clear all the way to Catalina Island or the bluffs are socked in with a chilly ocean fog, hundreds of years of history and natural beauty surround the 17-ton bell and Angel's Gate Park. Footsteps away, underneath a nearby hillside, lies a labyrinth of historic corridors linking Fort MacArthur's WWII big-gun batteries. The spot now houses a war and defense museum. Look for the hidden cemetery, perhaps the first of its kind, dedicated to the military's K-9 Commandos. Add to Angel's Gate the Point Fermin Lighthouse and Cabrillo Marine Aquarium, and a trip to the southern tip of San Pedro becomes a full-day outing.

My heart belongs to Broadway, the soul of downtown LA. For well over 25 years, I've been wandering this time-warp of a boulevard, exploring its unlocked doors and gasping at a wealth of gorgeous early 20th-century interiors. Grab a bite at Grand Central Market or Clifton's Cafeteria — both are staples of downtown's culinary history. Drink up at Precinct, the biggest, baddest, burliest gay bar in town. Then take in the glowing neon marquees of the street’s amazing movie palaces (some accessible on Saturday mornings through the Los Angeles Conservancy's Broadway walking tours). Ask nicely and the security guard at 610 S. Broadway may let you walk up the hand-carved, marble staircase of the 1909 W.P. Story Building to view its original stained-glass skylight. And, perhaps, the folks selling audio and video goods out of the lobby of the shuttered 1910 Pantages Theatre at 534 South Broadway may let you peek behind the curtain into the dark abyss of what was briefly the strip's most noted house of vaudeville.

OK, full disclosure. So I host this little tour of LA called the Neon Cruise, and I've been doing it for 17 years. Of course I'm going to recommend it, because it's the best damn tour of the city! Officially, the three-hour, nighttime jaunt aboard an open-air double-decker bus is all about architecture, culture, history, restaurants, hip drinking spots, and sensational neon signs, but I don't shy away from LA's dirt and grime. This tour isn't for tourists; it's for Angelenos who think they know LA

I've been with MONA for 17 years and have saved dozens of vintage neon signs, but the museum is so much more than signage. For those seeking electric art, MONA is an institution founded by artists. For those more interested in science, the place is aglow with noble gases, phosphors and electricity. But it's the multitude of roadside-Americana neon signs, such as the newly restored Brown Derby rooftop sign or the enormous Fox Venice theater marquee, that keep me there year after year.

Walking the entire length of Wilshire Boulevard with a group of friends a few years back changed my life. We ate breakfast downtown, lunch in Beverly Hills, dinner in Santa Monica, then took a bus back to where we started more than 16 miles and a few blisters earlier. Seeing Wilshire without a windshield in my way completely shifted my view of the city and, eventually, all of the research for the book Wilshire Boulevard: Grand Concourse of Los Angeles came out of that long day's journey. One of the boulevard's best surprises was St. Basil's, a 1969 brutalist facade punctuated with fractured towers of abstract stained glass by Claire Falkenstein. Her work is everywhere in Los Angeles but so underappreciated. Pass through St. Basil's front doors, which appear to be Falkenstein's ode to a crown of thorns, and take a seat inside. Sit a bit, as my friends and I did on our Wilshire walk, and just watch the sunlight for a while as its colors play among the Stations of the Cross. Personally, I don't subscribe to one religion or another, but St. Basil's was an inspiration that still makes me tear up — that day changed my life.

Stuck in a filthy hellhole of a location between Little Tokyo and Skid Row–Skidrowkyo, natch–lies a musically inclined dive bar, The Escondite. It's not very old or necessarily stellar, but it's a comfortable spot with live music most every night and artery-clogging burgers and beer. With Mumford Brewery next door, escape the disingenuous Arts District boomtown and seek out the friendly folks at this lesser-known hangout.