THE METROPOLIS

A landscape of concrete and high-rises. Sun hits the scorching glass office towers, refracting into rainbows of heat. Los Angeles becomes sleek and sultry--a torch singer riffing on 98 degrees.

On the way to July, the pace in L.A. turns languid. For a few weeks over in Tinseltown each summer, even Sammy stops running.

Sunglasses move from option to essential, even on those days when el sol won’t deign crawl out from behind a marine layer dense with its own set of issues.

Talk radio seems more tedious, public radio feels too earnest. Music--particularly live music--of any sort, sounds terrific.

Casual Fridays spill over into Mondays. Vacation countdowns begin in earnest. Air-conditioned indoor tables suddenly overtake the patio ones in popularity at the Ivy. Yet the lines at Pink’s hot dog stand grows in defiance of the weather. Lunches last longer or migrate to someplace else entirely, like Santa Barbara. Even Shakespeare heads for the park.

But this city has heart. And it’s forever surprising, even when you think summer’s getting stale. Maybe that’s why so many who move here for a while stay forever. This summer, you can watch art emerge as one of L.A.’s elementary schools has a brush with a mural veteran. Try fencing with friends, or take a few hours at one of the downtown spas to shake the doldrums. Sample one of the cool concoctions local bartenders have whipped up. Or slip into one of the old movie houses and see what preservation makes possible. And that’s just the tip of a fast-melting iceberg.