Culture was the name of the game on Monday for Edward Guy Thomas Fisher. It was the day that I would break the cycle of waking up early and spending the day pottering aroud the villa and lounging around in the pool. It was the day that I would make some progress in my creative travelling mission. It was the day that I would go out there and show that I was driven to learn and to explore. It was an important day in the story of ME.
Whatever.
Actually Don suggested that I get a lift with him into Los Angeles and that I have a day at the Getty Museum. I will take the credit for the fact that I had already told him I intended to make a trip to the cultural castle that sits high up on the hillside over Beverley Hills, but he instigated it. I am going to hold my big "Thanks Don" back, just for now. Ungrateful I know.
So we head into Los Angeles and the imposing Getty building comes into view high up on the green, tree lined hill. If it had turrets and a drawbridge I would be making more references to the castle, however being a modern, bright and clean design it conjures up memories of Tracey Island from the 'Thunderbirds' set. Happy days. Sadly there are no string puppets to be seen, not even George Bush or his fashionable poodle Tony. Don swung the Dodge into the drop-off area from where I would hop onto a tram to take me up the hillside. A bitter member of staff told us that the tram was not operating and that I would need to catch a bus up to the Getty Museum. So just around the corner I jump out of the car, grab my things and wave goodbye to Don. The Dodge disappears onto the main road. I ask another member of staff where I should go to get the bus.
"Get out de road! I come an' tok to you over der" he barked at me when I stepped into the completely empty drop-off area. Under these strict orders I did as he said, and when he decidd it was safe to come over to me he announced that the Getty Museum is closed on a Monday!
Oh. And there I was with no telephone and I did not want Don to have to pick me up again. I thanked him for the helpfulness of the staff in putting me in this predicament and decided to walk into town.
Oh. It seemed to be quite a long way. I walked for quite some time down towards the south on the 405 and there was nothing of any use to me such as a shop or a cafe. Oh no. That would make things far too simple! So after being propositioned by a large black man who pulled up on the other side of the road in his car I decided to walk around the Los Angeles National Cemetery. It is basically a large park with row upon row of white headstones and grass plaques dedicated to war veterans. The Bee Gees had their moment on the iPod and I walked around this peaceful, well groomed place in the sunshine. "Stayin' Alive" seemed to be quite ironic and I had to hold myself back from dancing up the paths and amongst the headstones! If only I was wearing a snazzy white suit. I sat myself down on a bench on Constitution Avenue and calmed myself down before resuming my walk.
Cutting through the back streets of Wiltshire Boulevard into Beverley Hills towards Santa Monica Boulevard was great. Green trees lined the roads and the houses were fascinating to compare. The plots do not seem particularly large in these Beverley Hills spots, and yet they are worth a lot of cash. Lush green, carefully manicured gardens roll up to houses of all shapes and sizes, from sharp modern with green tinted sheets of glass and Bauhaus simplicity, to New England panelled houses with neat and abundant cottage gardens. Sprinklers can be heard on every road, the occasional stream of water on the pavement in defiance to the stories of a possible hose pipe ban next year and severe water shortages.
And what came of my cultural enlightenment today? An afternoon of shopping in the Beverley Hills 'Western' shopping complex and a frozen yogurt with strawberries and almonds. And the double burger that Don and I bought at a drive-in at 09.45.... he read my mind so it must have been the right thing to do. Cultural schmultural was just not meant to be today....
Tuesday, 24 July 2007
Monday, 23 July 2007
22.07.07 - MC Lord Flips Some Pool-side Tunes.
A warm, dry breeze sifts through the crowd and over the pools magnetic cool depths. A rakish, long legged lady in a sharply styled cream bikini adorned with a chunky black Chanel buckle elevates herself up elegantly from a teak lounger as her long, sleek brown hair is flicked by the snap of desert air, to reveal a long, ornate, glittering piece of fine ear jewelery. She whispers into the ear of her beau, an effortlessly handsome man who stands confidently with his back to the pool as he discusses his latest high-profile wristwatch modelling campaign. The legs begin to do the walk past the group in a pair of poolside 'spikes' ( "Oh my God SHOES! " ) with a life of their own and the sleek party guest is drifted towards the open expanse of the villa's sliding doors.
Few heads have turned because this is no exceptional sight. Don and Mark's back yard has been transformed into an LA film set. This is an LA pool party after all. Clusters of people in the latest couture bathing costumes and surely the largest 'Jackie O' sunglasses I have ever seen (what is the point in wearing makeup if you have a pair of inter-locked dinner plates for sunglasses?!) are forming and merging like the wax in a lava lamp, an olive bejewelled Martini or a tall glass fanned with pineapple and strawberries in their hands. The hosts are busy networking through the crowd... Mark poses in front of the mountain-scape with a stylish 'dinner-plate' lady on each arm for the linen-wearing photographer, while Donald reclines 'pimp-like' in his new jacuzzi with a huddle of four guys and two gals hanging onto his every word. This guy is in demand.
And here I am, looking over the crowd from the terrace above. My best LA pout is adorned under my Prada eyewear. A white canopy flaps in the breeze above me holding the rays of the beating sun back from my neck. Amongst the party people I can hear the odd vocal sneaking energetically out of the pool scene below.... this is too good to be true...
"Woo!"
"Yeah!" "Alriiiiiiiiiiiiiight!"
"Get down!"
Marvin Gaye seems to be working it rather nicely with "Got To Give It up" . A smattering of guests is strutting carefully to the music, showing off their best poolside moves, not a smile to be seen for fear of giving the impression that they are having a good time. I will sort that one out... within moments I have flipped through my smooth-groove, terrace-tearing collection and I spin the next tune into the crowd. How can they resist James Brown...
"Fellahs I'm ready to get up and do mah thang....I wanna get into it man!"
"Woo!" "Yeah!"
"One... two... three... four.......
GET UP, ah... get on up...
GET UP, ah... get on up...
STAY ON THE SCENE... get on up...
LIKE A SEX-A-MACHINE...."
"OWW!!"
Reality check! Welcome to my vivid imagination... and thank you for humouring me by reading this. Let it be known that I have taken much pleasure in stretching the truth about our Sunday around the pool. Perhaps I owe you an explanation for how I dreamt up this sad diary entry?
It is really quite simple.... having lost and found my iPod and joined my hosts for a relaxing day around the pool I felt the urge to play my own music. After the late night we had had we decided that a cocktail was on the cards from the start and so we had a great day. I had such a thrill flipping through my music list and picking out track after track... (of course Mark and Don may not agree!)... the sun beating down out of the clear sky, and that spectacular view.
Three of the guys we had been chatting to at The Abbey the night before turned up... but not until about 6pm. Of course I had an early meeting first thing in the morning (sure Edward) so this was a great pain for me! The drink flowed, the alternating coloured pool lights flicked on, the jacuzzi bubbled and the garden flares were lit. Into the jacuzzi we jumped to make the most of the sunset... and oh... was that wacky-backy being passed around?! So now of course the conversation took a turn for the worst inevitably, the one they call Christopher took the limelight and chattered away with his camp comedy... and we laughed.
This sure beats a Sunday night trudging through a drizzly summer evening in London to have a final weekend pint... I only wish my great friends there could be here with me to enjoy the moment.
Few heads have turned because this is no exceptional sight. Don and Mark's back yard has been transformed into an LA film set. This is an LA pool party after all. Clusters of people in the latest couture bathing costumes and surely the largest 'Jackie O' sunglasses I have ever seen (what is the point in wearing makeup if you have a pair of inter-locked dinner plates for sunglasses?!) are forming and merging like the wax in a lava lamp, an olive bejewelled Martini or a tall glass fanned with pineapple and strawberries in their hands. The hosts are busy networking through the crowd... Mark poses in front of the mountain-scape with a stylish 'dinner-plate' lady on each arm for the linen-wearing photographer, while Donald reclines 'pimp-like' in his new jacuzzi with a huddle of four guys and two gals hanging onto his every word. This guy is in demand.
And here I am, looking over the crowd from the terrace above. My best LA pout is adorned under my Prada eyewear. A white canopy flaps in the breeze above me holding the rays of the beating sun back from my neck. Amongst the party people I can hear the odd vocal sneaking energetically out of the pool scene below.... this is too good to be true...
"Woo!"
"Yeah!" "Alriiiiiiiiiiiiiight!"
"Get down!"
Marvin Gaye seems to be working it rather nicely with "Got To Give It up" . A smattering of guests is strutting carefully to the music, showing off their best poolside moves, not a smile to be seen for fear of giving the impression that they are having a good time. I will sort that one out... within moments I have flipped through my smooth-groove, terrace-tearing collection and I spin the next tune into the crowd. How can they resist James Brown...
"Fellahs I'm ready to get up and do mah thang....I wanna get into it man!"
"Woo!" "Yeah!"
"One... two... three... four.......
GET UP, ah... get on up...
GET UP, ah... get on up...
STAY ON THE SCENE... get on up...
LIKE A SEX-A-MACHINE...."
"OWW!!"
Reality check! Welcome to my vivid imagination... and thank you for humouring me by reading this. Let it be known that I have taken much pleasure in stretching the truth about our Sunday around the pool. Perhaps I owe you an explanation for how I dreamt up this sad diary entry?
It is really quite simple.... having lost and found my iPod and joined my hosts for a relaxing day around the pool I felt the urge to play my own music. After the late night we had had we decided that a cocktail was on the cards from the start and so we had a great day. I had such a thrill flipping through my music list and picking out track after track... (of course Mark and Don may not agree!)... the sun beating down out of the clear sky, and that spectacular view.
Three of the guys we had been chatting to at The Abbey the night before turned up... but not until about 6pm. Of course I had an early meeting first thing in the morning (sure Edward) so this was a great pain for me! The drink flowed, the alternating coloured pool lights flicked on, the jacuzzi bubbled and the garden flares were lit. Into the jacuzzi we jumped to make the most of the sunset... and oh... was that wacky-backy being passed around?! So now of course the conversation took a turn for the worst inevitably, the one they call Christopher took the limelight and chattered away with his camp comedy... and we laughed.
This sure beats a Sunday night trudging through a drizzly summer evening in London to have a final weekend pint... I only wish my great friends there could be here with me to enjoy the moment.
Sunday, 22 July 2007
21.07.07 - Flying The Flag With Pride
The flag.
It seems to be that every American home should have one and display it with pride. It is common to see them hanging from a specially erected flag pole in the front garden of a house whether it be in Beverley Hills or the Antelope Valley where Don and Mark's house is. Of course my fellow Brits would scoff at such an idea.... who would display a Union Jack in such a manner in the UK after all? It is just not the done thing... you can just imagine the neighbours laughing over their Sunday roast at the mention of your display of patriotism!
I rather like the Union Jack though... it looks far more stylish than the 'Stars 'n' Stripes'. Perhaps I will invest in one on my return to England to hang from my father's bedroom window!
It just so happens that Mark and Don have a flag in their cupboard, or perhaps 'closet' would be more appropriate. The pool party will be upon us within a week and Donaldo is very keen to take the flag outside and show it off to the world. Patriotic? No. This particular flag can be seen hanging proudly from the streetlamps of the main boulevards in San Francisco. It is made up of horizontal stripes but there are no stars. Dorothy sang about it. Yes, I am talking about that bold and jolly gay rainbow flag.
Don had been eagerly skipping around the villa clutching the flag. While Mark and I were relaxing in the pool the flag appeared over the railings of the upstairs terrace followed by the straw hat donning Don and his excited question "Hey guys, what do you think?!". Of course our response was to raise our eyebrows at each other. Considering the view down through the valley I would say "so I take it that you want everyone to know your sexual preference then?". The flag disappeared.
Don came bounding around the pool while Mark was out in Palmdale with a long black plastic drainpipe cluthched in his outstretched hand. On reaching the height of the jacuzzi's terrace which has the best view through the valley he turns to me as I float dreamily, plants the post and says "Hey homey! What do you think? I could hang the flag from this!". I thought this was fantastic news indeed, imagining the flag billowing boldly in the wind from the mountainside for all to see. Worthy of a photograph I felt. "Great idea" I said heartily! What a shame it never came to be! Perhaps Don should wear the flag as a cape at his P.A.R.T.Y?
The Abbey again?! Why certainly! After a strenuous day of floating and dreaming, and helping to prepare for the party next week ( in the form of lighting displays, hanging a certain flag to keep the D happy and doing other general bits and pieces) we decided a few drinks in town were needed to spruce up the feathers for. As usual the bar was packed with a brigade of neatly coiffed LA party posers, and this time I had a decent group of friends around me. It makes a change from being the Mr Drinkaloner at the end of the bar... of course this has never lasted for long but even so it is a pleasure to walk in with friends! And it seems that the three of us are quite a good team together. Inevitably the evening turned into a whirlwind of chatter, bad jokes and stupidity.
By 05.30 Mark and I decided that it was probably about time to stop talking on the terrace and call it a night....
"IT'S A NIGHT!!"
It seems to be that every American home should have one and display it with pride. It is common to see them hanging from a specially erected flag pole in the front garden of a house whether it be in Beverley Hills or the Antelope Valley where Don and Mark's house is. Of course my fellow Brits would scoff at such an idea.... who would display a Union Jack in such a manner in the UK after all? It is just not the done thing... you can just imagine the neighbours laughing over their Sunday roast at the mention of your display of patriotism!
I rather like the Union Jack though... it looks far more stylish than the 'Stars 'n' Stripes'. Perhaps I will invest in one on my return to England to hang from my father's bedroom window!
It just so happens that Mark and Don have a flag in their cupboard, or perhaps 'closet' would be more appropriate. The pool party will be upon us within a week and Donaldo is very keen to take the flag outside and show it off to the world. Patriotic? No. This particular flag can be seen hanging proudly from the streetlamps of the main boulevards in San Francisco. It is made up of horizontal stripes but there are no stars. Dorothy sang about it. Yes, I am talking about that bold and jolly gay rainbow flag.
Don had been eagerly skipping around the villa clutching the flag. While Mark and I were relaxing in the pool the flag appeared over the railings of the upstairs terrace followed by the straw hat donning Don and his excited question "Hey guys, what do you think?!". Of course our response was to raise our eyebrows at each other. Considering the view down through the valley I would say "so I take it that you want everyone to know your sexual preference then?". The flag disappeared.
Don came bounding around the pool while Mark was out in Palmdale with a long black plastic drainpipe cluthched in his outstretched hand. On reaching the height of the jacuzzi's terrace which has the best view through the valley he turns to me as I float dreamily, plants the post and says "Hey homey! What do you think? I could hang the flag from this!". I thought this was fantastic news indeed, imagining the flag billowing boldly in the wind from the mountainside for all to see. Worthy of a photograph I felt. "Great idea" I said heartily! What a shame it never came to be! Perhaps Don should wear the flag as a cape at his P.A.R.T.Y?
The Abbey again?! Why certainly! After a strenuous day of floating and dreaming, and helping to prepare for the party next week ( in the form of lighting displays, hanging a certain flag to keep the D happy and doing other general bits and pieces) we decided a few drinks in town were needed to spruce up the feathers for. As usual the bar was packed with a brigade of neatly coiffed LA party posers, and this time I had a decent group of friends around me. It makes a change from being the Mr Drinkaloner at the end of the bar... of course this has never lasted for long but even so it is a pleasure to walk in with friends! And it seems that the three of us are quite a good team together. Inevitably the evening turned into a whirlwind of chatter, bad jokes and stupidity.
By 05.30 Mark and I decided that it was probably about time to stop talking on the terrace and call it a night....
"IT'S A NIGHT!!"
Friday, 20 July 2007
19.07.07 - Wild Fang... I Think I Luurve You
I have some news to break to you all.
There is someone special in my life.
He is male.
He goes by the name of Fang.
He is 18.
He is great in bed.
He has a hairy back.
He is cross-eyed.
HE IS A CAT!!!
Fang is the shadow in the dark, windowless hallway. He has risen from his slumber on a chair in the dining room or the fur throw in my room (which he blends into!). On seeing me walk past he casually strolls around the corner into the light of the ground floor living room, his thick, luxurious Mink-like fur exchanging the dark of the shadows for a silvery-grey mottle. His tail lazily flicks up and around the corner of the wall as though for balance as he leans into.....
...wait....
....tail?
...HE HAS NO TAIL!
Poor little blighter... what have they been doing to you here little Fang? I suspect that Mark and Don have a tail-pohobia seeing as neither of the dogs has a tail either. Or perhaps they fixed the tails to the back of their bikes like fox-tails? Oh you never had one?
Fang glides over to me and decides to sit at my feet, so calmly that you almost think he is hoping you have not noticed his arrival. He glances around, blinking as though he has just been pulled out of a deep sleep, the bright light playing havoc on his retinas. And then there is the bald patch on his back where the old thing has neglected himself and a tuft of fur has been removed. Of course he has no idea, in fact I am sure that if he was human he would be like one of those middle aged Englishmen who only cuts his hair under duress... the wife threatening to leave if the locks don't get a chop! This patch suddenly gives puss a comical appearance.
And then he looks up to catch my gaze.
Oh Fang. How can I take you seriously as you gaze up to ask for some love, when you appear to be staring intently at an imaginary fly on the tip of your nose? A cross-eyed cat?! Do you suppose that he is aware he has a special gaze? Does he see two of everything?!
I love to stroke this pussy... he gets such a thrill from it. The paws stretch and relax and the purring rattles the windows. And stroke his belly as he is standing? The back arches up and he stands on the tips of his paws while taking little struts at the same time.... the joy is written all over him.
Fang prefers the dog food. And Fang likes to drink from a tap in the bathroom. And Fang likes to go outside occasionally, retreating as soon as the exciteable pups bound over to lick and sniff him in equal measure. And Fang likes to be with people.
So as I get into bed the Fang struts in and musters the energy to leap onto the bed. Purring wildly he plods over towards my head and begins to find a comfortable spot curled up against me and under my arm. Sleep is only disturbed by his weak bladder, so the occasional plodding of paws on the carpet can be heard as he disappears to relieve himself. Once back in his spot at my side he reats a paw on my arm and drifts off contentedly....
...and then his snoring starts....
There is someone special in my life.
He is male.
He goes by the name of Fang.
He is 18.
He is great in bed.
He has a hairy back.
He is cross-eyed.
HE IS A CAT!!!
Fang is the shadow in the dark, windowless hallway. He has risen from his slumber on a chair in the dining room or the fur throw in my room (which he blends into!). On seeing me walk past he casually strolls around the corner into the light of the ground floor living room, his thick, luxurious Mink-like fur exchanging the dark of the shadows for a silvery-grey mottle. His tail lazily flicks up and around the corner of the wall as though for balance as he leans into.....
...wait....
....tail?
...HE HAS NO TAIL!
Poor little blighter... what have they been doing to you here little Fang? I suspect that Mark and Don have a tail-pohobia seeing as neither of the dogs has a tail either. Or perhaps they fixed the tails to the back of their bikes like fox-tails? Oh you never had one?
Fang glides over to me and decides to sit at my feet, so calmly that you almost think he is hoping you have not noticed his arrival. He glances around, blinking as though he has just been pulled out of a deep sleep, the bright light playing havoc on his retinas. And then there is the bald patch on his back where the old thing has neglected himself and a tuft of fur has been removed. Of course he has no idea, in fact I am sure that if he was human he would be like one of those middle aged Englishmen who only cuts his hair under duress... the wife threatening to leave if the locks don't get a chop! This patch suddenly gives puss a comical appearance.
And then he looks up to catch my gaze.
Oh Fang. How can I take you seriously as you gaze up to ask for some love, when you appear to be staring intently at an imaginary fly on the tip of your nose? A cross-eyed cat?! Do you suppose that he is aware he has a special gaze? Does he see two of everything?!
I love to stroke this pussy... he gets such a thrill from it. The paws stretch and relax and the purring rattles the windows. And stroke his belly as he is standing? The back arches up and he stands on the tips of his paws while taking little struts at the same time.... the joy is written all over him.
Fang prefers the dog food. And Fang likes to drink from a tap in the bathroom. And Fang likes to go outside occasionally, retreating as soon as the exciteable pups bound over to lick and sniff him in equal measure. And Fang likes to be with people.
So as I get into bed the Fang struts in and musters the energy to leap onto the bed. Purring wildly he plods over towards my head and begins to find a comfortable spot curled up against me and under my arm. Sleep is only disturbed by his weak bladder, so the occasional plodding of paws on the carpet can be heard as he disappears to relieve himself. Once back in his spot at my side he reats a paw on my arm and drifts off contentedly....
...and then his snoring starts....
Tuesday, 17 July 2007
16.07.07 - LA Cruisin' Hannibal Style
The joy of driving?!Well I thought London traffic was bad but wait until you see LA.
"LA is a great big freeway, put a hundred down and buy a car" Dionne Warwick cheerfully sings in that 1960s classic "Do You Know The Way To San Jose".
I do not have a clue how to get to San Jose although I recommend that she 'google it. After all the mighty Google people know all. I suspect that the Wizard of Oz would have been out of a job had Google been around. But even if she does not know how to get to San Jose, she does have a point with the LA-freeway connection. The roads are huge and never ending, and they seem to be eternally busy. It is as though there is a vast population of people here who do not have a home, and spend their entire lives merely driving!
The thrill of driving is lost here it seems. So the best place to be is in the passenger seat. From this splendid position you can entertain yourself immensely by observing the other drivers. To the right is Senor Rodriguez sporting a proud handlebar moustache, just visible through the dusty window to be chewing a plastic lighter (please do not ask me why.... I suppose it was to hand at the time) as he drives his battered and collision-streaked 1980s Ford open-bed pick-up. Just passing on the left is a sleek black Mustang with noone driving it... oh my mistake... Aviator sunglasses-wearing Mickey Mustang was in the passenger footwell searching for his marbles. And why is the car in front drifting to the left before making a sudden correction and repeating the process to the right? On passing the erratic silver Toyota Camry it all makes sense... MAKEUP!! Well we know this one in England too don't we? But how can Katya Camry be curling her eyebrows at the same time as driving.... AND being on the phone to her Brucey Bonus boyfriend? Hidden talent I suspect.
Give me the opportunity to drive though and I will be happy no matter what the driving conditions may be. And Don must have worked this out pretty quickly. Presuming his Dodge may have been ready for collection in LA by the end of the day he suggested that I join him for a speedy 'car pool lane' commute into LA and then then drive back. In the Mercedes SL convertible. DEAL!
And how it made my day. The car is red with a cream interior (ooooh) and is about ten years old. To me this gives a Mercedes enough time to become attractive! Driving position, mirrors...check, check. iPod.... CHECK! And so Beverley Hills was subjected to some classic 1960s Ike and Tina Turner style rhythm and blues. A big smile swept across my face and I headed back towards Antelope Valley on the freeways. I have to admit I felt pretty cool...
...until I heard that I snored the night before. "But I don't snore?!" I objected when Mark said that he had overheard me snoring the night before. Preposterous! It is not possible. Is it? I sounded like what?! Nooooooo!!!
Yes indeed... apparently I sound like Hannibal Lecter making that creepy slithering sound when he contemplates eating a succulent human cheek morsel when I snore. I do not know what to say.....
"LA is a great big freeway, put a hundred down and buy a car" Dionne Warwick cheerfully sings in that 1960s classic "Do You Know The Way To San Jose".
I do not have a clue how to get to San Jose although I recommend that she 'google it. After all the mighty Google people know all. I suspect that the Wizard of Oz would have been out of a job had Google been around. But even if she does not know how to get to San Jose, she does have a point with the LA-freeway connection. The roads are huge and never ending, and they seem to be eternally busy. It is as though there is a vast population of people here who do not have a home, and spend their entire lives merely driving!
The thrill of driving is lost here it seems. So the best place to be is in the passenger seat. From this splendid position you can entertain yourself immensely by observing the other drivers. To the right is Senor Rodriguez sporting a proud handlebar moustache, just visible through the dusty window to be chewing a plastic lighter (please do not ask me why.... I suppose it was to hand at the time) as he drives his battered and collision-streaked 1980s Ford open-bed pick-up. Just passing on the left is a sleek black Mustang with noone driving it... oh my mistake... Aviator sunglasses-wearing Mickey Mustang was in the passenger footwell searching for his marbles. And why is the car in front drifting to the left before making a sudden correction and repeating the process to the right? On passing the erratic silver Toyota Camry it all makes sense... MAKEUP!! Well we know this one in England too don't we? But how can Katya Camry be curling her eyebrows at the same time as driving.... AND being on the phone to her Brucey Bonus boyfriend? Hidden talent I suspect.
Give me the opportunity to drive though and I will be happy no matter what the driving conditions may be. And Don must have worked this out pretty quickly. Presuming his Dodge may have been ready for collection in LA by the end of the day he suggested that I join him for a speedy 'car pool lane' commute into LA and then then drive back. In the Mercedes SL convertible. DEAL!
And how it made my day. The car is red with a cream interior (ooooh) and is about ten years old. To me this gives a Mercedes enough time to become attractive! Driving position, mirrors...check, check. iPod.... CHECK! And so Beverley Hills was subjected to some classic 1960s Ike and Tina Turner style rhythm and blues. A big smile swept across my face and I headed back towards Antelope Valley on the freeways. I have to admit I felt pretty cool...
...until I heard that I snored the night before. "But I don't snore?!" I objected when Mark said that he had overheard me snoring the night before. Preposterous! It is not possible. Is it? I sounded like what?! Nooooooo!!!
Yes indeed... apparently I sound like Hannibal Lecter making that creepy slithering sound when he contemplates eating a succulent human cheek morsel when I snore. I do not know what to say.....
Monday, 16 July 2007
15.07.07 - Real LA Chill Out
Everyone needs to touch on their childish side... it is healthy for you. It allows you to release pent up energy and frustration, and best of all accesses that expressive thing called laughter. No matter where you go there will be people walking down the street in such a laboured manner that you suspect they struggled to find the will to get out of bed that morning. All trace of joy is removed from their facial expressions as though it had been grease wiped away with Mr Muscle. And should you have the pleasure of conversing with them it may cross your mind that they should get back into bed and stay there. But it is a very unfortunate thing to be a carrier of misery. I am sure that such retchid souls cannot help the frosty face they adorn. It is perhaps a sign of insecurity and a form of self-preservation that brings them to wear the stubborn mask.
Having worked in retail I ask any readers of my nonsense to spare a thought for those who have to assist 'les miserables'. My way of dealing with the aggressive "HOW MUCH IS THIS" that was often spat in my direction as I hung off a 5m high ceiling trying to fit an intricate lighting display was to ignore it. On hearing it again I would feign ignorance of their initial hiss and with a beaming smile from the top of the ladder merely say "Oh good morning, would you like some assistance?" . The response was always the same... the aloof customer would be forced to say good morning in return and the sharp tone to the voice would immediately be replaced by a softer and more considerate approach to the request! In fact, by being friendly and positive it seemed to tug on that quality in the other person.
So perhaps the dark, miserable people of the world need the support and perseverance of the bright, positive souls of the world to bring out a little snippet of joy. At this point I am feeling a little nausious to know that this splurge of 'PEACE and LOVE' has been filtered from MY head and that MY fingers have allowed this to be released into my blog. To make up for it I am going to make you sick too....
We had a Real LA Chill Out on Sunday 15th July!! I spent the entire day around the newly filled pool! Relaxing, drinking, FLOATING, making animal noises, laughing, EATING, diving, sunbathing and curling my straw hat into a more appropriate shape. It was such a pleasure to be doing absolutely nothing... and we had so much fun floating in the pool being infantile. Only Fang, the cross-eyed cat, missed out on the action. The only time we ventured out was to head in to Palmville for a barbeque at a bar there, where we indulged in a few drinks over an equal number of games of pool.
I am so sorry... have I made y'all miserable in the colder climes? I will finish on a positive and constructive note then... there are plenty of miserable people here in LA too. (that was not the positive note). You may have thought that plastic surgery and sleeping tablets was the answer to happiness but the evidence here is that this is just not true! You may scoff but it really isn't. The answer is laughter. So calling to all of my fellow happy people... its up to you....
...go and spread the love man!
Having worked in retail I ask any readers of my nonsense to spare a thought for those who have to assist 'les miserables'. My way of dealing with the aggressive "HOW MUCH IS THIS" that was often spat in my direction as I hung off a 5m high ceiling trying to fit an intricate lighting display was to ignore it. On hearing it again I would feign ignorance of their initial hiss and with a beaming smile from the top of the ladder merely say "Oh good morning, would you like some assistance?" . The response was always the same... the aloof customer would be forced to say good morning in return and the sharp tone to the voice would immediately be replaced by a softer and more considerate approach to the request! In fact, by being friendly and positive it seemed to tug on that quality in the other person.
So perhaps the dark, miserable people of the world need the support and perseverance of the bright, positive souls of the world to bring out a little snippet of joy. At this point I am feeling a little nausious to know that this splurge of 'PEACE and LOVE' has been filtered from MY head and that MY fingers have allowed this to be released into my blog. To make up for it I am going to make you sick too....
We had a Real LA Chill Out on Sunday 15th July!! I spent the entire day around the newly filled pool! Relaxing, drinking, FLOATING, making animal noises, laughing, EATING, diving, sunbathing and curling my straw hat into a more appropriate shape. It was such a pleasure to be doing absolutely nothing... and we had so much fun floating in the pool being infantile. Only Fang, the cross-eyed cat, missed out on the action. The only time we ventured out was to head in to Palmville for a barbeque at a bar there, where we indulged in a few drinks over an equal number of games of pool.
I am so sorry... have I made y'all miserable in the colder climes? I will finish on a positive and constructive note then... there are plenty of miserable people here in LA too. (that was not the positive note). You may have thought that plastic surgery and sleeping tablets was the answer to happiness but the evidence here is that this is just not true! You may scoff but it really isn't. The answer is laughter. So calling to all of my fellow happy people... its up to you....
...go and spread the love man!
Sunday, 15 July 2007
14.07.07 - Operation Back Yard
ATTENTION! At ease.
Our mission... to prepare the back yard for the pool party on 28th July.
Three men.
Two dogs.
One cross eyed cat called Fang.
Rocks and gravel galore.
One day ( for the sakes of my story telling anyway).
Faced with the prospect of a pool that was likely to be full by the afternoon my hosts felt the need to complete the transformation of their back yard. The large terrace running along the back of the villa was clearly more the domain of the dogs, with a collection of old furniture, a cat/dog box, a gas barbeque, a plastic bin and a scattering of dog bones and other interestic morsels. Possibly the remains of a former guest one has to wonder?!
Watching the spending habits of other people is quite fascinating and actually makes me feel quite relieved that I am so restrained, despite what my mother tells me! Setting off on Route 14 to nearby Palmville with Don and Mark with an empty 'trunk' and a respectable shopping list I had no idea that I would be the witness to such a purchasing event. Coming up to 10pm only Don and I were in the Lexus heading back to the villa having spent $2000! So what had happened to Mark? And where were the goods that they had purchased? The mystery unravels....
A white Lexus sedan pulls up in a certain carpark in Palmville.
Three men sporting dark shades step out into the scorching afternoon heat and walk into a certain undisglosed mega(cheap!)store.
One trolley is aimed at the electric doors and within moments they have disappeared into the cool depths of the megastore.
Thoughts of the token shopping list have all but evaporated and no item is left unnoticed.
3 straw hats, several plastic Martini glasses and tall plastic glasses, 20 freezable mugs, 2 woven rugs, 3 oil lamps on tall stakes, 2 sun lounger cushions, a wicker furniture set (comprising of 2 armchairs, one sofa and a coffee table), a round wire table, 3 inflatable armchairs, etc.
The three men are seen getting into a white rental van with a flat-bed rear deck.
The same are seen loading the van with the furniture set, wire table and the rugs.
Moments later 3 large cushioned stools and a large round log hearth (acts as a table when not in use) are loaded too.
The van returns empty.
The three men continue to raid stores before heading home.
On finding their frige-freezer to have broken down two of the men return to the store.
The two men are seen to load a real American-style fridge-freezer up onto the deck of a white rental van.
The two men are seen returning the van shortly before 10pm before disappearing into the night.
Phew. We were so tired by the end of this expedition. It was exhausting seeing the boys as they loaded up their trolleys with all sorts of things that I had heard no prior mention of them needing. I had made a brief detour via the men's clothing department where I tried on some $14 (!) board shorts I liked, but very sensibly I returned them while the boys' wallets shrivelled up. The sudden need to pick up a new fridge-freezer nearly tipped us over the edge, but Don and I found the strength to head back to Palmville to grab a new one and install it before renewing the journey to drop off the van and pick up the car again. Enough already!!
I suppose that it may not have seemed so tiring if we had not spent the morning moving gravel and rocks. A local man had delivered a vast load of reddish gravel and two large boulders that we had found to decorate a rectangular bed by the pool. Of course we then got into the motions of finding rocks to build up around the jacuzzi too. Every piece that had been purchased had to be set in place for peace of mind. It was actually quite satisfying... it reminded me of working for Habitat and setting up displays... except that the old jagged boulders that really needed to be moved there should have been thrown overboard to maintain buoyancy. That is enough about the management at Habitat though!
Feeling as shattered as we did we collapsed at the table outside and admired our work with a glass of cold sangria. What a satisfying feeling, and I was glad to have been able to help my generous hosts to pull things together. The hoses were pulled from the brimming pool and jacuzzi that looked so fresh and inviting, and quite stunning with the lighting effects.
Eyes propped open with cocktail sticks we staggered into the car and made for Palmville. A few drinks later and we were on a roll.....
Our mission... to prepare the back yard for the pool party on 28th July.
Three men.
Two dogs.
One cross eyed cat called Fang.
Rocks and gravel galore.
One day ( for the sakes of my story telling anyway).
Faced with the prospect of a pool that was likely to be full by the afternoon my hosts felt the need to complete the transformation of their back yard. The large terrace running along the back of the villa was clearly more the domain of the dogs, with a collection of old furniture, a cat/dog box, a gas barbeque, a plastic bin and a scattering of dog bones and other interestic morsels. Possibly the remains of a former guest one has to wonder?!
Watching the spending habits of other people is quite fascinating and actually makes me feel quite relieved that I am so restrained, despite what my mother tells me! Setting off on Route 14 to nearby Palmville with Don and Mark with an empty 'trunk' and a respectable shopping list I had no idea that I would be the witness to such a purchasing event. Coming up to 10pm only Don and I were in the Lexus heading back to the villa having spent $2000! So what had happened to Mark? And where were the goods that they had purchased? The mystery unravels....
A white Lexus sedan pulls up in a certain carpark in Palmville.
Three men sporting dark shades step out into the scorching afternoon heat and walk into a certain undisglosed mega(cheap!)store.
One trolley is aimed at the electric doors and within moments they have disappeared into the cool depths of the megastore.
Thoughts of the token shopping list have all but evaporated and no item is left unnoticed.
3 straw hats, several plastic Martini glasses and tall plastic glasses, 20 freezable mugs, 2 woven rugs, 3 oil lamps on tall stakes, 2 sun lounger cushions, a wicker furniture set (comprising of 2 armchairs, one sofa and a coffee table), a round wire table, 3 inflatable armchairs, etc.
The three men are seen getting into a white rental van with a flat-bed rear deck.
The same are seen loading the van with the furniture set, wire table and the rugs.
Moments later 3 large cushioned stools and a large round log hearth (acts as a table when not in use) are loaded too.
The van returns empty.
The three men continue to raid stores before heading home.
On finding their frige-freezer to have broken down two of the men return to the store.
The two men are seen to load a real American-style fridge-freezer up onto the deck of a white rental van.
The two men are seen returning the van shortly before 10pm before disappearing into the night.
Phew. We were so tired by the end of this expedition. It was exhausting seeing the boys as they loaded up their trolleys with all sorts of things that I had heard no prior mention of them needing. I had made a brief detour via the men's clothing department where I tried on some $14 (!) board shorts I liked, but very sensibly I returned them while the boys' wallets shrivelled up. The sudden need to pick up a new fridge-freezer nearly tipped us over the edge, but Don and I found the strength to head back to Palmville to grab a new one and install it before renewing the journey to drop off the van and pick up the car again. Enough already!!
I suppose that it may not have seemed so tiring if we had not spent the morning moving gravel and rocks. A local man had delivered a vast load of reddish gravel and two large boulders that we had found to decorate a rectangular bed by the pool. Of course we then got into the motions of finding rocks to build up around the jacuzzi too. Every piece that had been purchased had to be set in place for peace of mind. It was actually quite satisfying... it reminded me of working for Habitat and setting up displays... except that the old jagged boulders that really needed to be moved there should have been thrown overboard to maintain buoyancy. That is enough about the management at Habitat though!
Feeling as shattered as we did we collapsed at the table outside and admired our work with a glass of cold sangria. What a satisfying feeling, and I was glad to have been able to help my generous hosts to pull things together. The hoses were pulled from the brimming pool and jacuzzi that looked so fresh and inviting, and quite stunning with the lighting effects.
Eyes propped open with cocktail sticks we staggered into the car and made for Palmville. A few drinks later and we were on a roll.....
Saturday, 14 July 2007
13.07.07 - The Lord's Public Karaoke Moment
Karaoke.
I hear that it is very popular in Japan. I hear that it is very popular in some grotty English pubs that take pride in flying St.George's cross flags and fighting after a Stella fuelled night. I remember that universuity friends used to struggle to control their bladders at the thought of butchering Queen's 'Bohemian Rhapsidy' in front of a sweat slicked crowd of students at the Union Bar. For some reason it never really held much of an appeal to me. Perhaps I was too shy... and perhaps I didn't want to make a complete fool of myself when my voice croaked over the chord change. I knew my limits... and I had standards!
I think that there are two categories of karaoke singer:
1. Those who see it as one big joke and an excuse to show off their ability to sing out of tune after three pints of cider, two tequilas, half a glass of someone else's Jack Daniels and coke and a handfull of someone else's chips. When doing a duet it is expected of you to be at one with the microphone so that it is pressed into your tonsils and to yell over your companion's attempt at drunken harmony.
2. Those who take it seriously. When you take that mic you are going to show the crowd how it is done and nothing but a standing ovation will do. Careful eyebrow manoevers and microphone handling can be employed to master the effect. "Thank you, thank you....."
Don't you love how scepotical I am?! In reality I would love to be able to master either of these approaches. So you can imagine the surprise I had when I was in the villa on Friday. Don had decided to work from home, setting his laptop up on the breakfast table. I was working on my blog in the study when I heard a great little number being blasted out from the surround sound system upstairs. I climbed up there to grab my notebook from my room and on reaching the galleried sitting room I stopped dead... Don was holding a microphone and was singing! It was his voice I could hear! Clearly he falls into 'Karaoke Category #2'... but without the arrogance I would have associated. I sat and listened for a while as he went through country tracks, some Roy Orbison, Elvis, etc.... and shunned the microphone when it was pointed at me.
Oh no. There was no escape. It was expected that I should sing as well... and I have to admit that I got a little excited. Then I found the classic tune... the memories.... how many times have I dance around my father's kitchen with Katy McMullen, after a great night out, to this... 'Proud Mary' by Ike and Tina Turner! There was no stopping me. Don had gone back downstairs and I was ready to hit the "rollin', rollin'" notes. It all started off so well, a note of support coming from Don downstairs... perhaps I could be an arrogant, eyebrow popping karaoke singer after all? And then the tempo picked up and the pitch changed... my voice croaked and strained over the notes and of course I released the occasional embarrassed "Oh dear" in a true British apologetic fashion. Lets forget about that little moment shall we?
"WHAT?!!! HE DIDN'T?! YOU DIDN'T?!!! THEY ALL....?!!!!" I said when I realised that my angelic rendition had not stayed between the walls of the villa.
I was a little surprised when Mark returned home and said very casually "Great singing!". So the story goes that Don had called Mark while I was doing my 'Proud Mary' routine who had in turn recorded it and played it out to his entire US Bank broker network! Over the whole of the US! There were several responses apparently, including one that was something along the lines of "Those Brits always need a helping hand from us don't they!" . This means war......
But oh.... this was not the only memorable event of the day, for this is the day when the swimming pool was completed. For two whole years Don and Mark have had a rough concrete pit open in the middle of their backyard, filled with debris and dirt. In heavy rains the pit would fill and turn into a putrid, mosquito-infested swamp that only the two dogs were happy to swill in. Why? Because once the initial excavation and rendering had been completed the boys decided their money would be more wisely directed towards holidays in South America and Hawaii! I suspect that the more they walked outside onto the terrace to be greated by a filthy, festering vortex the more they needed another holiday!
The wait is finally over. A small bus load of Mexicans in round straw hats, white t-shirts and curious flip-flops with metal stilts underneath were unloaded into the pit and the makeover was completed. We watched from the first floor terrace as they swarmed over the concrete surfaces of the pool and the jacuzzi, one of them spraying the white plaster rendering over the walls with a large hose, the others smoothing the plaster off as it set. It was amazing how they managed to complete the process within a few hours, so that by 6pm the tiles around the top of the walls were being wiped down and the hoses were in. Ta-dah!
Of course the children in the group, Don and I, were straight in to get a feel for the empty space, the dogs leaping down with their dusty red paws. I had a head rush from the sensation of being in an empty pool and decided that it wastime for a cocktail to celebrate....
...sangria will do!
I hear that it is very popular in Japan. I hear that it is very popular in some grotty English pubs that take pride in flying St.George's cross flags and fighting after a Stella fuelled night. I remember that universuity friends used to struggle to control their bladders at the thought of butchering Queen's 'Bohemian Rhapsidy' in front of a sweat slicked crowd of students at the Union Bar. For some reason it never really held much of an appeal to me. Perhaps I was too shy... and perhaps I didn't want to make a complete fool of myself when my voice croaked over the chord change. I knew my limits... and I had standards!
I think that there are two categories of karaoke singer:
1. Those who see it as one big joke and an excuse to show off their ability to sing out of tune after three pints of cider, two tequilas, half a glass of someone else's Jack Daniels and coke and a handfull of someone else's chips. When doing a duet it is expected of you to be at one with the microphone so that it is pressed into your tonsils and to yell over your companion's attempt at drunken harmony.
2. Those who take it seriously. When you take that mic you are going to show the crowd how it is done and nothing but a standing ovation will do. Careful eyebrow manoevers and microphone handling can be employed to master the effect. "Thank you, thank you....."
Don't you love how scepotical I am?! In reality I would love to be able to master either of these approaches. So you can imagine the surprise I had when I was in the villa on Friday. Don had decided to work from home, setting his laptop up on the breakfast table. I was working on my blog in the study when I heard a great little number being blasted out from the surround sound system upstairs. I climbed up there to grab my notebook from my room and on reaching the galleried sitting room I stopped dead... Don was holding a microphone and was singing! It was his voice I could hear! Clearly he falls into 'Karaoke Category #2'... but without the arrogance I would have associated. I sat and listened for a while as he went through country tracks, some Roy Orbison, Elvis, etc.... and shunned the microphone when it was pointed at me.
Oh no. There was no escape. It was expected that I should sing as well... and I have to admit that I got a little excited. Then I found the classic tune... the memories.... how many times have I dance around my father's kitchen with Katy McMullen, after a great night out, to this... 'Proud Mary' by Ike and Tina Turner! There was no stopping me. Don had gone back downstairs and I was ready to hit the "rollin', rollin'" notes. It all started off so well, a note of support coming from Don downstairs... perhaps I could be an arrogant, eyebrow popping karaoke singer after all? And then the tempo picked up and the pitch changed... my voice croaked and strained over the notes and of course I released the occasional embarrassed "Oh dear" in a true British apologetic fashion. Lets forget about that little moment shall we?
"WHAT?!!! HE DIDN'T?! YOU DIDN'T?!!! THEY ALL....?!!!!" I said when I realised that my angelic rendition had not stayed between the walls of the villa.
I was a little surprised when Mark returned home and said very casually "Great singing!". So the story goes that Don had called Mark while I was doing my 'Proud Mary' routine who had in turn recorded it and played it out to his entire US Bank broker network! Over the whole of the US! There were several responses apparently, including one that was something along the lines of "Those Brits always need a helping hand from us don't they!" . This means war......
But oh.... this was not the only memorable event of the day, for this is the day when the swimming pool was completed. For two whole years Don and Mark have had a rough concrete pit open in the middle of their backyard, filled with debris and dirt. In heavy rains the pit would fill and turn into a putrid, mosquito-infested swamp that only the two dogs were happy to swill in. Why? Because once the initial excavation and rendering had been completed the boys decided their money would be more wisely directed towards holidays in South America and Hawaii! I suspect that the more they walked outside onto the terrace to be greated by a filthy, festering vortex the more they needed another holiday!
The wait is finally over. A small bus load of Mexicans in round straw hats, white t-shirts and curious flip-flops with metal stilts underneath were unloaded into the pit and the makeover was completed. We watched from the first floor terrace as they swarmed over the concrete surfaces of the pool and the jacuzzi, one of them spraying the white plaster rendering over the walls with a large hose, the others smoothing the plaster off as it set. It was amazing how they managed to complete the process within a few hours, so that by 6pm the tiles around the top of the walls were being wiped down and the hoses were in. Ta-dah!
Of course the children in the group, Don and I, were straight in to get a feel for the empty space, the dogs leaping down with their dusty red paws. I had a head rush from the sensation of being in an empty pool and decided that it wastime for a cocktail to celebrate....
...sangria will do!
Thursday, 12 July 2007
11.07.07 - Martini Break Down
The day that I was meant to be boarding a plane in San Francisco headed for Buenos Aires via Atlanta. One week after my original departure date. And to think that I was not so bothered about spending any length of time in Los Angeles?! It is amazing how things can be so different from what you expected.
So instead of waiting in the departures lounge of San Francisco airport, I found myself sitting in Don's Dodge Charger (yes... it has a Hemi!) heading down Route 14 as he heads into work for his daily commute (when he isn't working from home). This suits him sir because he is able to use the 'car pool lane' that allows cars with more than one passenger to shoot past the traffic.... and he has the absolute pleasure of my company! Of course the vital stop is at McDonalds to get a coffee... a must in Don's morning routine.
I spent my morning shopping in West Hollywood while Donald visited one of his Wells Fargo branches before meeting him at The Abbey. This has turned out to be the nightspot that I have visited the more than any other during my time here.... and they do great lunches. One salad, a gin Martini and glorious sunshine. Well I can tell you that the cocktail knocked my socks off and seemed to pave the way for a fun afternoon. We were on cracking form, keeping the waiting staff amused... and the hairdresser too when we both went for a chop over the road. It was, however, a little embarassing when I misinterprted the Chinese hairdresser's instructions for finding the restroom and walked out into the back alleyway in front of the whole salon. However I am grateful to the Martini for dulling the pain, and as soon as I opened the door to the restroom I acted as if nothing had happened.
Then the car overheated. The dodgey Charger was not happy and so we headed for the nearest Dodge dealership, dumped the car and jumped into a cab headed back to West Hollywood.... for another cocktail! By the time the third had arrived Mark was there to rescue us and control our stupidity. No passer by had been safe from our scrutiny and of course we had resolved many of life's issues by the time the afternoon was done.
I like Martini!
So instead of waiting in the departures lounge of San Francisco airport, I found myself sitting in Don's Dodge Charger (yes... it has a Hemi!) heading down Route 14 as he heads into work for his daily commute (when he isn't working from home). This suits him sir because he is able to use the 'car pool lane' that allows cars with more than one passenger to shoot past the traffic.... and he has the absolute pleasure of my company! Of course the vital stop is at McDonalds to get a coffee... a must in Don's morning routine.
I spent my morning shopping in West Hollywood while Donald visited one of his Wells Fargo branches before meeting him at The Abbey. This has turned out to be the nightspot that I have visited the more than any other during my time here.... and they do great lunches. One salad, a gin Martini and glorious sunshine. Well I can tell you that the cocktail knocked my socks off and seemed to pave the way for a fun afternoon. We were on cracking form, keeping the waiting staff amused... and the hairdresser too when we both went for a chop over the road. It was, however, a little embarassing when I misinterprted the Chinese hairdresser's instructions for finding the restroom and walked out into the back alleyway in front of the whole salon. However I am grateful to the Martini for dulling the pain, and as soon as I opened the door to the restroom I acted as if nothing had happened.
Then the car overheated. The dodgey Charger was not happy and so we headed for the nearest Dodge dealership, dumped the car and jumped into a cab headed back to West Hollywood.... for another cocktail! By the time the third had arrived Mark was there to rescue us and control our stupidity. No passer by had been safe from our scrutiny and of course we had resolved many of life's issues by the time the afternoon was done.
I like Martini!
Monday, 9 July 2007
8.07.07 - The Falcon...Has Landed?
I love the fact that some of the greatest pleasures in life are the most basic ones. We all have these moments I am sure (if not you need to find some!), when you find yourself really enjoying a small, insignificant moment in time. For me it is usually when I am interacting with others (no witty remarks please... this is a spiritual moment in my writing ;-) ). During my travels so far I have had this with my great buddy Paul, my host in New York, with whom I seemed to have a strong mental connection (sound fair to you Mr P?).
So at 4pm, having just woken up I am sitting on the narrow strip of porch at the front of the villa that faces out onto a small patch of lush grass and little more than a barren, dusty bank of the mountain we are on. As usual I am accompanying the smoker who is sneakily enjoying the cancer stick he has in his hand. I have never touched a cigarette and yet I always enjoy going out with the smokers to keep them company! Don and I both have a coffee and there is complete silence in the air, save the odd light gust of dry desert heat. And we chatted. It is as simple as that. And yet it was a really enjoyable experience... after all you can spend as much time as you want going out socialising with people but you rarely get to see what really shapes them and makes them tick unless you are in the right place at the right time. It is SO good to talk. Right?!
Yes... I believe that I noted that I had just woken up at four o'clock? Well having returned to the villa at 4am after our bout of dancing in Hollywood the night before we of course felt obliged to carry the party on. So for the second time this week we had a REAL LA CHILL OUT in the first floor sitting room. The music crept through all sorts of genres.... and the conversation was just as diverse. And yet, when the discussion turned to the similarites between Spanish and Portugese dialect my body gave up the fight... NO MORE! Teddy bed-time....
But wait! That was not the end of it.... everybody knows that a big night out has be followed by another night out. So shortly after six o'clock the three of us had bundled into the Dodge and were headed for Silverlake in Los Angeles. THE FALCON. My O my... what can I say about this gem of a bar? Not too much that is for sure. Not since The Eagle in New York have I seen such sights. The Sunday afternoon bash is called the 'Beerfest' as it is at The Eagle. Half of the space is an open-air terrace and it is packed with people... and I only spotted one girl. Brave! tattoos, piercings.... you name it and it was most probably there. Our group stood out for looking quite civilised, respectable and dare I say it.... good looking?! Several large drinks later and we were having a whale of a time... and before I knew it I had been whisked off in a flurry of stupidity into a McDonalds.
McDONALDS!! ME! Can you believe it? That is the first time in about eight years I have eaten a McDonalds burger.... I am disgusted with myself. I have given in to the American junktastication. Ooh....what do the apple pies taste like these days I wonder......
So at 4pm, having just woken up I am sitting on the narrow strip of porch at the front of the villa that faces out onto a small patch of lush grass and little more than a barren, dusty bank of the mountain we are on. As usual I am accompanying the smoker who is sneakily enjoying the cancer stick he has in his hand. I have never touched a cigarette and yet I always enjoy going out with the smokers to keep them company! Don and I both have a coffee and there is complete silence in the air, save the odd light gust of dry desert heat. And we chatted. It is as simple as that. And yet it was a really enjoyable experience... after all you can spend as much time as you want going out socialising with people but you rarely get to see what really shapes them and makes them tick unless you are in the right place at the right time. It is SO good to talk. Right?!
Yes... I believe that I noted that I had just woken up at four o'clock? Well having returned to the villa at 4am after our bout of dancing in Hollywood the night before we of course felt obliged to carry the party on. So for the second time this week we had a REAL LA CHILL OUT in the first floor sitting room. The music crept through all sorts of genres.... and the conversation was just as diverse. And yet, when the discussion turned to the similarites between Spanish and Portugese dialect my body gave up the fight... NO MORE! Teddy bed-time....
But wait! That was not the end of it.... everybody knows that a big night out has be followed by another night out. So shortly after six o'clock the three of us had bundled into the Dodge and were headed for Silverlake in Los Angeles. THE FALCON. My O my... what can I say about this gem of a bar? Not too much that is for sure. Not since The Eagle in New York have I seen such sights. The Sunday afternoon bash is called the 'Beerfest' as it is at The Eagle. Half of the space is an open-air terrace and it is packed with people... and I only spotted one girl. Brave! tattoos, piercings.... you name it and it was most probably there. Our group stood out for looking quite civilised, respectable and dare I say it.... good looking?! Several large drinks later and we were having a whale of a time... and before I knew it I had been whisked off in a flurry of stupidity into a McDonalds.
McDONALDS!! ME! Can you believe it? That is the first time in about eight years I have eaten a McDonalds burger.... I am disgusted with myself. I have given in to the American junktastication. Ooh....what do the apple pies taste like these days I wonder......
Sunday, 8 July 2007
7.07.07 - Cash. Cycle. Party.
There were three main components that made my day on Saturday. And each one made me very happy indeed....
CASH! The relief that I felt was huge when my father confirmed that he had been able to transfer some of my cash directly to Western Union. I was now able to collect the money from the Western Union desk of my choice. The service is expensive but it saved me from being penniless while I wait for my new bank card to arrive. Thank you to Don for being so helpful in helping me to find a solution, and many thanks to dad for ensuring that the transfer was swift. Phew!
CYCLE! Having picked up my dollars Don, Mark and I set off for Santa Monica beach. The boys put on their rollerblades and I hired a tall, mountain bike with a remarkably uncomfortable saddle. Off we set in true LA style on the concrete path that runs all the way down the beach. The sun was not so strong but glorious all the same and in an attempt to bake the white strap lines off my shoulders I removed my shirt. Crazy I know! The path has two lanes as would a road and just like the LA roads it gets congested with excercise fiends, adult tricycle riders, pooch pansies and flabby families. I may be stetching the truth slightly, but the fun was had in nipping in and out and overtaking the blockages. It was great. Donald and I somehow lost Mark, who seemed to get a limited thrill from the rollerblading, and after a few repeat laps we headed back along the main promenade in Venice. There I was, back amongst the tourists who packed the concourse. I made it out alive, with a fresh lemonade and a silver bracelet. Perhaps being a tourist amongst tourists is not so bad after all? Yes it is... screaming babies with chocolate icecream dribbling down their grubby foaming chins... I am going to stop there because I am breaking out in a cold sweat at the thought of it! But having found Mark back at the car we set off back home, with a quick stop to have some flame grilled chicken in a Mexican fast food restaurant. Well.... perhaps I am being swayed towards fast food at least, because the Americans do it so much better.
PARTY. So it was Saturday night... and there was a party going on. Red and Black was the theme....and none of us was wearing red or black. But rules are to be broken are they not ladies and gentlemen? I am really quite grateful I did rebell because all of the colours of the RAINBOW seemed to be flowing through the doors to the club! We met up with one of the boys' friends who took us through the VIP list where we avoided paying a $60 entry fee and were attacked by a black, eye-lashed drag queen with a VIP list and wrist straps. I thanked my lucky stars that she was sitting down because I suspected that her heals could do some damage.
The club was once again an old theatre, with a main dancefloor on the ground floor. A vast, eery model of a clown leered out from the stage, threatening to re-enact a horror film carnage. Two of its large chums were towered from either side of the dancefloor, although I was more curious as to what was underneath their robes than scared of their creepy gaze. The best part of the club was the open air roof deck though, with a bar and sofas dotted around the space. The music was pumping through the whole buildiing, but the open air terrace was sociable and had a great vibe to it. And have I already mentioned that the locals love a British accent......?!
"Hello, I'm Edward, it is a pleasure to meet you, rah, rah, rah...."!
CASH! The relief that I felt was huge when my father confirmed that he had been able to transfer some of my cash directly to Western Union. I was now able to collect the money from the Western Union desk of my choice. The service is expensive but it saved me from being penniless while I wait for my new bank card to arrive. Thank you to Don for being so helpful in helping me to find a solution, and many thanks to dad for ensuring that the transfer was swift. Phew!
CYCLE! Having picked up my dollars Don, Mark and I set off for Santa Monica beach. The boys put on their rollerblades and I hired a tall, mountain bike with a remarkably uncomfortable saddle. Off we set in true LA style on the concrete path that runs all the way down the beach. The sun was not so strong but glorious all the same and in an attempt to bake the white strap lines off my shoulders I removed my shirt. Crazy I know! The path has two lanes as would a road and just like the LA roads it gets congested with excercise fiends, adult tricycle riders, pooch pansies and flabby families. I may be stetching the truth slightly, but the fun was had in nipping in and out and overtaking the blockages. It was great. Donald and I somehow lost Mark, who seemed to get a limited thrill from the rollerblading, and after a few repeat laps we headed back along the main promenade in Venice. There I was, back amongst the tourists who packed the concourse. I made it out alive, with a fresh lemonade and a silver bracelet. Perhaps being a tourist amongst tourists is not so bad after all? Yes it is... screaming babies with chocolate icecream dribbling down their grubby foaming chins... I am going to stop there because I am breaking out in a cold sweat at the thought of it! But having found Mark back at the car we set off back home, with a quick stop to have some flame grilled chicken in a Mexican fast food restaurant. Well.... perhaps I am being swayed towards fast food at least, because the Americans do it so much better.
PARTY. So it was Saturday night... and there was a party going on. Red and Black was the theme....and none of us was wearing red or black. But rules are to be broken are they not ladies and gentlemen? I am really quite grateful I did rebell because all of the colours of the RAINBOW seemed to be flowing through the doors to the club! We met up with one of the boys' friends who took us through the VIP list where we avoided paying a $60 entry fee and were attacked by a black, eye-lashed drag queen with a VIP list and wrist straps. I thanked my lucky stars that she was sitting down because I suspected that her heals could do some damage.
The club was once again an old theatre, with a main dancefloor on the ground floor. A vast, eery model of a clown leered out from the stage, threatening to re-enact a horror film carnage. Two of its large chums were towered from either side of the dancefloor, although I was more curious as to what was underneath their robes than scared of their creepy gaze. The best part of the club was the open air roof deck though, with a bar and sofas dotted around the space. The music was pumping through the whole buildiing, but the open air terrace was sociable and had a great vibe to it. And have I already mentioned that the locals love a British accent......?!
"Hello, I'm Edward, it is a pleasure to meet you, rah, rah, rah...."!
Friday, 6 July 2007
5.07.07 - We Missed July 4th!
AH! What happened! It is July 5th!
I had extended my stay in Los Angeles so that I could celebrate July 4th... and I had just gone and slept through the evenings festivities! Oh well. It was worth it. No fireworks for me.
Some sort of vague sense of reality was starting to kick in. A perverse reality. You see, I had contacted my hostel on the 4th to inform them that I would be holding the bed for another night. However the horrible nagging feeling that I needed to tear myself away from the pleasures of the mountain villa lifestyle and force myself back into the hostel life was rapidly consuming me. Being a gemini I had happily pushed this thought to the back of my mind for nearly two days, and now the demon had to be confronted. Otherwise my bags would be on the street in West Hollywood for the vagrants to sift through.
And where was the nagging feeling that I had work to go to the next day coming from?! Give me a break!
I had been spoilt... after only one night spent in a shared dormatory I had fallen on my feet with two new friends and been treated to a great open-armed welcome into their home. My entire trip was being thrown into turmoil in my mind... how was I going to cope with staying in nasty old cockroach-infested hostels for the rest of the year. Perhaps I was not cut out for this after all. There is only one way of surviving.... I need to make friends who have villa's at every stop. So much for throwing myself in at the deep end and making myself go through the hostel experience!
Don and Mark to the rescue! I could hardly believe the generosity and kindness of heart they displayed when they suggested that I stay with them until I leave for Buenois Aires on 11th July! I was completely taken aback... clearly my aggressive and erratic behaviour, inabilty to pick up a knife and fork and tendency to put both of my feet in my mouth while I am watching television (a bad habit I know but great for the karma) had not put them off me. I am just not used to people being so open and warm... we Brits like our own space do we not?
Yes... this is a summary of my response.
I stepped out of the Dodge and walked into the Orbit hostel to pick up my things and check out. As I was bundling everything into my bag Jason, the actor, came through the door displaying a mixed look of disbelief, amusment and curiosity....
"Oh ma God man... where on Earth have-a-ewe beeeen? Ah just towld ma boyfreend on da phone that the Briddish boy had just gown-a-missin'.... where-a were ewe?!" he said in his lazy Alhabama drawl.
Clearly the message had not been passsed onto any of my fellow dormers that I was staying elsewhere, and it turns out that the chap I spoke to on the phone had not logged the note that I would be back to settle up. With everything crammed into may bags I said my swift goodbyes and heaved my load into the 'trunk' of the Dodge that was waiting outside. My room-mates happened to be sitting on the porch that overlooked the car.... I must admit that I felt quite thrilled to be drwan out of the hostel life for a while... somewhat like Pip when he realized his Great Expectations!!
Back at the villa the boys produced a vast rack of ribs. Don proudly set to work on the barbeque while I attempted to be helpful. How grateful I was sitting there on the terrace with the 105 degree dry desert heat and the view through the valley.... cheers!
I had extended my stay in Los Angeles so that I could celebrate July 4th... and I had just gone and slept through the evenings festivities! Oh well. It was worth it. No fireworks for me.
Some sort of vague sense of reality was starting to kick in. A perverse reality. You see, I had contacted my hostel on the 4th to inform them that I would be holding the bed for another night. However the horrible nagging feeling that I needed to tear myself away from the pleasures of the mountain villa lifestyle and force myself back into the hostel life was rapidly consuming me. Being a gemini I had happily pushed this thought to the back of my mind for nearly two days, and now the demon had to be confronted. Otherwise my bags would be on the street in West Hollywood for the vagrants to sift through.
And where was the nagging feeling that I had work to go to the next day coming from?! Give me a break!
I had been spoilt... after only one night spent in a shared dormatory I had fallen on my feet with two new friends and been treated to a great open-armed welcome into their home. My entire trip was being thrown into turmoil in my mind... how was I going to cope with staying in nasty old cockroach-infested hostels for the rest of the year. Perhaps I was not cut out for this after all. There is only one way of surviving.... I need to make friends who have villa's at every stop. So much for throwing myself in at the deep end and making myself go through the hostel experience!
Don and Mark to the rescue! I could hardly believe the generosity and kindness of heart they displayed when they suggested that I stay with them until I leave for Buenois Aires on 11th July! I was completely taken aback... clearly my aggressive and erratic behaviour, inabilty to pick up a knife and fork and tendency to put both of my feet in my mouth while I am watching television (a bad habit I know but great for the karma) had not put them off me. I am just not used to people being so open and warm... we Brits like our own space do we not?
Yes... this is a summary of my response.
I stepped out of the Dodge and walked into the Orbit hostel to pick up my things and check out. As I was bundling everything into my bag Jason, the actor, came through the door displaying a mixed look of disbelief, amusment and curiosity....
"Oh ma God man... where on Earth have-a-ewe beeeen? Ah just towld ma boyfreend on da phone that the Briddish boy had just gown-a-missin'.... where-a were ewe?!" he said in his lazy Alhabama drawl.
Clearly the message had not been passsed onto any of my fellow dormers that I was staying elsewhere, and it turns out that the chap I spoke to on the phone had not logged the note that I would be back to settle up. With everything crammed into may bags I said my swift goodbyes and heaved my load into the 'trunk' of the Dodge that was waiting outside. My room-mates happened to be sitting on the porch that overlooked the car.... I must admit that I felt quite thrilled to be drwan out of the hostel life for a while... somewhat like Pip when he realized his Great Expectations!!
Back at the villa the boys produced a vast rack of ribs. Don proudly set to work on the barbeque while I attempted to be helpful. How grateful I was sitting there on the terrace with the 105 degree dry desert heat and the view through the valley.... cheers!
Thursday, 5 July 2007
4.07.07 - The Lost Day
7am came careering towards me as I persevered on the dancefloor as a sea of bodies desperately held onto the delusion that it was still Tuesday night. In itself this sounds pretty dreadful seeing as it is mid-week, but behold, Wednesday 4th July is a public holiday in America! Some of you may be aware of this?! The crowd was still jumping to the crashing riot of repetitive sound that is trance music... and there I was... faced with the pain of finding my way home without the aid of a pair of sunglasses. Mind you, at least I had managed to find my t-shirt. On the other hand I had apparently lost Don and Mark.
I decided to hold on and wait for my new best friends for a few more minutes. Something told me that they would not have left without me. Sure, I had only met them the night before, but I had instantly felt comfortable with them and I trusted them. They had been so considerate in looking after me and making sure that I was having a good time... if one puts aside their disappearance later on! Or perhaps they just couldn't get rid of me, like a fly.... "I'm still here you know!"
Of course have no doubt that my instinct was spot on... for the two boys reappeared and insisted on giving me a lift. I say insisted... I certainly didn't put up too much of a fight and merely played the polite English boy....
"Thank you so much... only if you are sure that it is not a hassle for you?"!
Once in the Dodge (it is a car) Don suggested that I could go back to their villa and chill out with them around the pool and they would give me a lift back to my beloved hostel in the evening. How sensible I seemed to be when I replied....
"Oh thank you so much.... I would love to.... but I ought to be getting back to the hostel as I need to book another night there and my bags are there".
STOP RIGHT THERE. What was I thinking? Am I crazy?! Surely the whole point of my going travelling is to take opportunities and be a little bit foot-loose and fancy-free (so thrilled that I got that gem of a phrase into my blog!)? An imaginary slap across the face and I had re-considered my answer....
"Actually boys.... why the hell not! I would love to come back to your place... if that is ok?"
So there it was.... Don drove the car North onto Route 14 towards Antelope Valley and we left LA behind, exchanging the low level white villas and palms for rolling, weather worn, desert mountains. The sun was barely peeping over the peeks when we arrived at their villa, just next to Acton in a stunning valley. The Star Ranch Estate reaches up into the reddish dusty mountains, with neatly designed villas and white ranch fencing marking out every boundary. The car sweeps up the hillside and in the final turn Don swings the Dodge into a drive before sliding it into a garage slot between a white Lexus and a red Mercedes SL convertible. The metal door slides down with a rattle and a crunch behind us.
The villa is big. There is a two story atrium over the open plan breakfast area and sitting room, with glass windows all around. Outside there is a large plot of red dust that is the garden... with a large concrete pit full of debris and building materials... hang on.... I suspected that this was the pool that they mentioned?! My lack of a pair of swimming trunks was suddenly not an issue. All around the plot is a stunning vista of sun-baked mountains. Two crazy looking dogs sat eagerly at the sliding glass doors, bodies pressed against each other as though joined at the hips, heads tilted to one side as they stared intently at me with their tongues pressed up against the glass in anticipation of a good face licking. Any guesses for their names?
Priceless..... Lexus..... and..... Mercedes!!
And what a great time I had with my new buddies. We collapsed upstairs in another sitting room, galleried and overlooking the atrium, put some music on and chatted for hours. We talked about everything from the value of the pound, to walking into mirrors, to mass murderers (I was only slightly nervous when we came onto this merry subject!), to riding horses side-saddle.... and there was no getting me to sleep. The three of us got on so well, and I knew I had really made some friends for life.
I decided to hold on and wait for my new best friends for a few more minutes. Something told me that they would not have left without me. Sure, I had only met them the night before, but I had instantly felt comfortable with them and I trusted them. They had been so considerate in looking after me and making sure that I was having a good time... if one puts aside their disappearance later on! Or perhaps they just couldn't get rid of me, like a fly.... "I'm still here you know!"
Of course have no doubt that my instinct was spot on... for the two boys reappeared and insisted on giving me a lift. I say insisted... I certainly didn't put up too much of a fight and merely played the polite English boy....
"Thank you so much... only if you are sure that it is not a hassle for you?"!
Once in the Dodge (it is a car) Don suggested that I could go back to their villa and chill out with them around the pool and they would give me a lift back to my beloved hostel in the evening. How sensible I seemed to be when I replied....
"Oh thank you so much.... I would love to.... but I ought to be getting back to the hostel as I need to book another night there and my bags are there".
STOP RIGHT THERE. What was I thinking? Am I crazy?! Surely the whole point of my going travelling is to take opportunities and be a little bit foot-loose and fancy-free (so thrilled that I got that gem of a phrase into my blog!)? An imaginary slap across the face and I had re-considered my answer....
"Actually boys.... why the hell not! I would love to come back to your place... if that is ok?"
So there it was.... Don drove the car North onto Route 14 towards Antelope Valley and we left LA behind, exchanging the low level white villas and palms for rolling, weather worn, desert mountains. The sun was barely peeping over the peeks when we arrived at their villa, just next to Acton in a stunning valley. The Star Ranch Estate reaches up into the reddish dusty mountains, with neatly designed villas and white ranch fencing marking out every boundary. The car sweeps up the hillside and in the final turn Don swings the Dodge into a drive before sliding it into a garage slot between a white Lexus and a red Mercedes SL convertible. The metal door slides down with a rattle and a crunch behind us.
The villa is big. There is a two story atrium over the open plan breakfast area and sitting room, with glass windows all around. Outside there is a large plot of red dust that is the garden... with a large concrete pit full of debris and building materials... hang on.... I suspected that this was the pool that they mentioned?! My lack of a pair of swimming trunks was suddenly not an issue. All around the plot is a stunning vista of sun-baked mountains. Two crazy looking dogs sat eagerly at the sliding glass doors, bodies pressed against each other as though joined at the hips, heads tilted to one side as they stared intently at me with their tongues pressed up against the glass in anticipation of a good face licking. Any guesses for their names?
Priceless..... Lexus..... and..... Mercedes!!
And what a great time I had with my new buddies. We collapsed upstairs in another sitting room, galleried and overlooking the atrium, put some music on and chatted for hours. We talked about everything from the value of the pound, to walking into mirrors, to mass murderers (I was only slightly nervous when we came onto this merry subject!), to riding horses side-saddle.... and there was no getting me to sleep. The three of us got on so well, and I knew I had really made some friends for life.
Wednesday, 4 July 2007
3.07.07 - Just Another Night at The Abbey?
"Please don't worry about any of us who are trying to sleep will you? You just feel free to chat away loudly in Swedish while we bury our heads in our pillows to muffle the piercing sound of your voices echoing around the room while you get ready to go out on a tour of Universal Studios."
Of course being British I was far too polite to lift my head up and ask the girls who were now staying in our room to keep the noise down. Instead I bottled up the frustration and lay with my head under the pillow while these girls crashed around our room early in the morning as they prepared to go out for the day. I may not have found it quite so upsetting if I had managed to get some sleep, but the room was so warm and stuffy all night that I had been unable to dose. I just cannot understand how anyone can be so inconsiderate... they could see the rest of us attempting to rest. It is beyond me!
My first impressions of being in a hostel dormatory are not good. I knew that this would be a challenge for me as I like to have my own personal space and be around people that I know and choose to be with. Instead I feel awkward and cannot concentrate on anything that I am trying to achieve when I am in my room. Even the simple task of finding my toothbrush becomes exhausting as I lose track of exactly what it is that I am trying to do, and I am unable to spread anything out of my bag to make the task any easier. I suspect that I will reach a crisis point at some point in my travels when I am unable to carry on living in a hostel. Of course I started my trip in a Cape Town hostel but I had my own room. I have only spent one night in a dorm so far. This is going to be interesting.... wait until I see my first cockroach.....
After a day of resting and of course heading out for my usual breakfast I prepared to go out again. My old art school friend, Alex Johnson, was due to be arriving in Venice Beach to start her new life in Los Angeles and I was planning on heading down to her hostel the next day. So this could be my last night of West Hollywood partying. To mark the occasion I thought I would up the ante and put a shirt on... my only proper shirt... a long sleeved pink number. Looking HOT!
The Abbey was surprisingly busy... plenty of people milling around the open bars. I ordered a mojito and settled onto the corner of my favourite bar. This particular one is smaller than the others and a little more intimate... far easier to get chatting to other merry folk. For half an hour or so I looked like a loner. Of course it is a challenge not to look like a sad loner when you are in a busy bar drinking alone, but it is quite exciting because at that moment in time you have absolutely no idea where the night will take you. Standing with your group of friends you are far less likely to have any surprises!
Before I knew it the night began to roll. As soon as I have broken the ice with one person, in this case a chap called Kevin and his friend Heather, the night is transformed. By 11pm I was sitting in the back of a Dodge Charger headed for a nightclub!
Don and Mark had been close by when I met Kevin and Heather and I instantly took a shine to them. Something about the way they carried themselves and interacted made me feel completely at ease... my gut instinct was that they were honest, genuine and great fun! And who am I to say no to an invitation to carry on with the party? They even stopped off at my hostel so that I could change my shirt before whizzing off to Hollywood. Stepping into the nightclub, a former theatre, I found myself in a sweaty trance heaven... the main dancefloor full of people thrashing to the beat. The new Edward ripped his shirt off and threw himself into the sweaty mass with Don in tow.... no lingering around the side for the cool airconditioned breeze for me this time!
There is one moment that I need to recapture. I am cringing at the thought of it because I cannot believe that it is really true. Kevin and Heather had wanted to join us and were heading for the club. Somehow they found us straight away. This would have been great, but clearly Kevin is not a man who holds his drink well, and Don, Mark and I were already aware that this was not the place for him to come to. Within minutes he was whooping and thrashing his arms in the air while ripping his shirt off... but the whole spectacle was rather unfortunate to say the least! He looked so awkward with his white vest, US army tags and 'man-boobs' and he was the only person I could see who was not keeping his cool. It was like seeing the nerd in a Hollywood high school movie trying to be 'cool'. The pain and the disbelief with which I witnessed this is very hard to convey... and it meant that a good part of the night was spent avoiding him.
I am sorry Kevin... I feel evil for being so.... LA!
Of course being British I was far too polite to lift my head up and ask the girls who were now staying in our room to keep the noise down. Instead I bottled up the frustration and lay with my head under the pillow while these girls crashed around our room early in the morning as they prepared to go out for the day. I may not have found it quite so upsetting if I had managed to get some sleep, but the room was so warm and stuffy all night that I had been unable to dose. I just cannot understand how anyone can be so inconsiderate... they could see the rest of us attempting to rest. It is beyond me!
My first impressions of being in a hostel dormatory are not good. I knew that this would be a challenge for me as I like to have my own personal space and be around people that I know and choose to be with. Instead I feel awkward and cannot concentrate on anything that I am trying to achieve when I am in my room. Even the simple task of finding my toothbrush becomes exhausting as I lose track of exactly what it is that I am trying to do, and I am unable to spread anything out of my bag to make the task any easier. I suspect that I will reach a crisis point at some point in my travels when I am unable to carry on living in a hostel. Of course I started my trip in a Cape Town hostel but I had my own room. I have only spent one night in a dorm so far. This is going to be interesting.... wait until I see my first cockroach.....
After a day of resting and of course heading out for my usual breakfast I prepared to go out again. My old art school friend, Alex Johnson, was due to be arriving in Venice Beach to start her new life in Los Angeles and I was planning on heading down to her hostel the next day. So this could be my last night of West Hollywood partying. To mark the occasion I thought I would up the ante and put a shirt on... my only proper shirt... a long sleeved pink number. Looking HOT!
The Abbey was surprisingly busy... plenty of people milling around the open bars. I ordered a mojito and settled onto the corner of my favourite bar. This particular one is smaller than the others and a little more intimate... far easier to get chatting to other merry folk. For half an hour or so I looked like a loner. Of course it is a challenge not to look like a sad loner when you are in a busy bar drinking alone, but it is quite exciting because at that moment in time you have absolutely no idea where the night will take you. Standing with your group of friends you are far less likely to have any surprises!
Before I knew it the night began to roll. As soon as I have broken the ice with one person, in this case a chap called Kevin and his friend Heather, the night is transformed. By 11pm I was sitting in the back of a Dodge Charger headed for a nightclub!
Don and Mark had been close by when I met Kevin and Heather and I instantly took a shine to them. Something about the way they carried themselves and interacted made me feel completely at ease... my gut instinct was that they were honest, genuine and great fun! And who am I to say no to an invitation to carry on with the party? They even stopped off at my hostel so that I could change my shirt before whizzing off to Hollywood. Stepping into the nightclub, a former theatre, I found myself in a sweaty trance heaven... the main dancefloor full of people thrashing to the beat. The new Edward ripped his shirt off and threw himself into the sweaty mass with Don in tow.... no lingering around the side for the cool airconditioned breeze for me this time!
There is one moment that I need to recapture. I am cringing at the thought of it because I cannot believe that it is really true. Kevin and Heather had wanted to join us and were heading for the club. Somehow they found us straight away. This would have been great, but clearly Kevin is not a man who holds his drink well, and Don, Mark and I were already aware that this was not the place for him to come to. Within minutes he was whooping and thrashing his arms in the air while ripping his shirt off... but the whole spectacle was rather unfortunate to say the least! He looked so awkward with his white vest, US army tags and 'man-boobs' and he was the only person I could see who was not keeping his cool. It was like seeing the nerd in a Hollywood high school movie trying to be 'cool'. The pain and the disbelief with which I witnessed this is very hard to convey... and it meant that a good part of the night was spent avoiding him.
I am sorry Kevin... I feel evil for being so.... LA!
Monday, 2 July 2007
1.07.07 - The Random LA Sunday Party Pact
RED. The colour I would use to describe the skin on my neck and my shoulders by 8pm.
WHITE. The colour I would use to describe the skin that had been covered by the white vest I wore during the day.
Why, oh why do I do this to myself. I was fully aware that I would be in the sun as I made my way to Rogers Beach on Sunday and yet I must have decided that suncream would not be necessary. I blame it on the pancake, fruit, bacon and egg dish that I have become hooked on, because my mind was clearly on the food! However today the chef must have been in a very excitable mood because I was given two plates of food instead of the usual single plate. On the one plate I had the two pancakes with a pile of strawberries and banana slices, and on the other was a large portion of scrambled egg and crispy bacon. I suspect they were laying bets in the kitchen as to whether the skinny Brit could handle the over-generous portion. I win!
Relaxing on the lively Rogers Beach I watched my fellow bathers as they threw themselves into the big, rolling Pacific waves. It looked like fun, and I had a large brunch to work off. Maintaining my composure I strolled down the small sand bank to the water and strutted straight into the water, attempting to look as though I had not noticed the sudden drop in temperature that would normally have one gasping out loud and hugging their chest! But I was pleasantly surprised to find that the water was quite warm, unlike the chilly currents in San Francisco. My composure was only lost when I stumbled into a sudden dip in the sand but I soon made up for it with a manly dive into the first big wave!
It was great fun to be a kid again and actually enjoy being in the waves. I had a great time throwing myself in and fighting with them. Who cares about getting sand in your shorts anyway? Surely its a sign of having a good time? Although I suspect that it was my enthusiatic tustle in the waves that is responsible for the overcooked shoulders and neck that I was sporting in the evening. You would have been forgiven for thinking at a glance that I was still wearing the white vest when I took it off!
Wearing a less revealing t-shirt I headed West along Melrose Avenue heading for The Abbey again. I had just moved around the corner into a new hostel called Orbit. The difference was incredible. I had sacrificed my single room and was now in a six berth dorm with a down-to-Earth actor, Jason, from Alhabama (great accent!) and four vast, friendly, intimidating, prostitute loving New Zealanders. The latter looked incredibly well built with muscle while having huge bellies and bulging pectoral breasts. I hope that those bunks are strong! The room was fine, but the recreational spaces were great, with patios furnished with Eames plastic chairs and glitter balls, a bright, youthful lounge space and a good kitchen. It just felt like someone actually cared about us travellers!
Waiting for my mojito to be bashed and shaken I heard an English voice at the bar. A delicate, blond girl called Lucy. An aspiring actor. Very cheeky looking with a neat little grin that crept up one side of her face. I liked the look of her, so we then proceeded to have fun observing the crowd around us. She had her eyes on the barman and was quite content to flirt with him and threaten to scamp off behind the bar to spank him. Well, her cheesecake was free after that!
Suddenly I was tapped on the shoulder as a man said "Hello Edward". Clearly I must have looked alittle confused as he backed it up with "We met in New York". It all fell into place... incredibly I had met Stephen (a piano competition organizer from Toronto) at a cocktail party at the Gansevoort Hotel in New York a few weeks earlier! Despite the complete coincidence it seemed strangely unsurprising and we carried on as if we had planned to meet in The Abbey all along. By the time another cocktail had been downed we were ready to party and agreed that we would be the ones to find one. In LA this can prove to be difficult as the licencing law forbids the sale of alcohol after 2pm. The secret is an invite to a private party or an afterparty. So the new game was to find a friend who could take us to the next level! By the end of the night we found ourselves stumbling down a very empty 'Walk of Fame', gawping at the starry sidewalk. A stop off at Privilege nightclub had preceeded this, and it was there that we were told to head to Spider in Hollywood. We found the entrance but there was no sign of life. The party trail had come to an end. It was certainly over when Stephen shrieked with excitement at seeing the 'Pointer Sisters' star and slipped into the splits at the same time! That could have been painful....
WHITE. The colour I would use to describe the skin that had been covered by the white vest I wore during the day.
Why, oh why do I do this to myself. I was fully aware that I would be in the sun as I made my way to Rogers Beach on Sunday and yet I must have decided that suncream would not be necessary. I blame it on the pancake, fruit, bacon and egg dish that I have become hooked on, because my mind was clearly on the food! However today the chef must have been in a very excitable mood because I was given two plates of food instead of the usual single plate. On the one plate I had the two pancakes with a pile of strawberries and banana slices, and on the other was a large portion of scrambled egg and crispy bacon. I suspect they were laying bets in the kitchen as to whether the skinny Brit could handle the over-generous portion. I win!
Relaxing on the lively Rogers Beach I watched my fellow bathers as they threw themselves into the big, rolling Pacific waves. It looked like fun, and I had a large brunch to work off. Maintaining my composure I strolled down the small sand bank to the water and strutted straight into the water, attempting to look as though I had not noticed the sudden drop in temperature that would normally have one gasping out loud and hugging their chest! But I was pleasantly surprised to find that the water was quite warm, unlike the chilly currents in San Francisco. My composure was only lost when I stumbled into a sudden dip in the sand but I soon made up for it with a manly dive into the first big wave!
It was great fun to be a kid again and actually enjoy being in the waves. I had a great time throwing myself in and fighting with them. Who cares about getting sand in your shorts anyway? Surely its a sign of having a good time? Although I suspect that it was my enthusiatic tustle in the waves that is responsible for the overcooked shoulders and neck that I was sporting in the evening. You would have been forgiven for thinking at a glance that I was still wearing the white vest when I took it off!
Wearing a less revealing t-shirt I headed West along Melrose Avenue heading for The Abbey again. I had just moved around the corner into a new hostel called Orbit. The difference was incredible. I had sacrificed my single room and was now in a six berth dorm with a down-to-Earth actor, Jason, from Alhabama (great accent!) and four vast, friendly, intimidating, prostitute loving New Zealanders. The latter looked incredibly well built with muscle while having huge bellies and bulging pectoral breasts. I hope that those bunks are strong! The room was fine, but the recreational spaces were great, with patios furnished with Eames plastic chairs and glitter balls, a bright, youthful lounge space and a good kitchen. It just felt like someone actually cared about us travellers!
Waiting for my mojito to be bashed and shaken I heard an English voice at the bar. A delicate, blond girl called Lucy. An aspiring actor. Very cheeky looking with a neat little grin that crept up one side of her face. I liked the look of her, so we then proceeded to have fun observing the crowd around us. She had her eyes on the barman and was quite content to flirt with him and threaten to scamp off behind the bar to spank him. Well, her cheesecake was free after that!
Suddenly I was tapped on the shoulder as a man said "Hello Edward". Clearly I must have looked alittle confused as he backed it up with "We met in New York". It all fell into place... incredibly I had met Stephen (a piano competition organizer from Toronto) at a cocktail party at the Gansevoort Hotel in New York a few weeks earlier! Despite the complete coincidence it seemed strangely unsurprising and we carried on as if we had planned to meet in The Abbey all along. By the time another cocktail had been downed we were ready to party and agreed that we would be the ones to find one. In LA this can prove to be difficult as the licencing law forbids the sale of alcohol after 2pm. The secret is an invite to a private party or an afterparty. So the new game was to find a friend who could take us to the next level! By the end of the night we found ourselves stumbling down a very empty 'Walk of Fame', gawping at the starry sidewalk. A stop off at Privilege nightclub had preceeded this, and it was there that we were told to head to Spider in Hollywood. We found the entrance but there was no sign of life. The party trail had come to an end. It was certainly over when Stephen shrieked with excitement at seeing the 'Pointer Sisters' star and slipped into the splits at the same time! That could have been painful....
Sunday, 1 July 2007
30.06.07 - Hit The Beach!
Crispy bacon SCRAMBLED EGG WHITES maple syrup
strawberries PANCAKES banana
So my noon breakfast arrives as I sit outside a diner on Santa Monica Boulevard in West Hollywood under the shade of an umbrella. Now I am not keen on the idea of mixing fruit with bacin and egg, but I decided to give it a shot as I needed to try some good American style pancakes. It turns up on one large plate. Two thick pancakes the size of side plates are stacked with fresh friut on top, the bacon and egg nestled to one side. While the latter looked as though they had been squeezed on there must have been about six piggy rashers! Here goes... armed with maple syrup, iced coffee and plenty of water I destroyed the chef's creation. One Brit has been converted.
I had decided to head for Santa Monica beach to rid myself of the tell-tale pale body. This should be a simple journey seeing as all I needed to do was to head straight down to the end of Santa Monica Boulevard. But this city is so spread out that this one bus ride alone must have taken almost an hour. I am a busy guy who cannot afford to spend so long travelling! Once I had reached the Pacific Coast Highway I was happy.The view as you head down the cliff quite breathtaking, for all you can see is a vast swathe of beach reaching off into the hazy distance towards Venice and Redondo to the South and Malibu to the North. With nothing but a space saving towel (courtesy of Charlie and Jo), some suncream and the clothes on my back I walked North to Rogers beach along the concrete cycling path before turning off across the sand to meet the water. Leaving the joggers, cyclists and rollerbladers behind I slumped on the beach and basked!
Carol and Cal (my Aunt and Uncle) both worked on a drama series that ran for six years called Strong Medicine. A reunion bash was being held in a house on North Clerk Street in West Hollywood, for all of the cast and crew.... and the visiting Englishman who was tagging along. The house was interior designer heaven, with all sorts of details such as a waterfall behind the hob, a stunning jungle inspired mural licking around the curved ceiling, a domed entrance hall and a Barbara Streisand inspired (shrine) room. Oh yes, the latter... complete with a black dummy displaying a slitty, slinky mauve sequined, floor length gown with feathers pointing up out of the shoulder line. My guess is that this was worn by her once? Backstage and off-set black and white pictures of the lady herself complete the mood. You would never know that this house was owned by a middle aged gay couple would you?!
It was interesting to meet the team. It seemed to me to be that they were all very different in their nature, almost in a conflicting manner. I cannot really put my finger on what it was that gave me this impression, but I felt that noone was really relaxed and being themselves. Had I finally had a mild taste of the LA attitude? Perhaps it only really happens in the film industry where people are out for themselves and will be whoever they need to be to further themselves? I actually had the best time talking to the crazy make-up artist who worked alongside my Aunt. She moved from Brooklyn twenty years ago and had no time for the film industry politics. She smoked away while I knocked back a few margueritas and listened to her as she warned me the people you find inthe industry. Let's just say that the language was to foul to type here!
I headed back to the hostel the long way... via the outdoor bar I was at on Friday called The Abbey. With a drink in hand I got talking a couple of guys. One was quite small with a quiff to make up for it, the other tall with a geeky look enhanced by the slicked hair. They were harmless although the smaller one clearly enjoyed winding people up. We started a quick-fire banter which ended with him saying,
"So why do all British people have bad teeth?'.
To which I replied immediately "Because we have better things to concern ourselves with than fake beauty. So why did ALL Americans vote for Bush?"
A smile emerged on his face and he turned to his geeky companion and said "I like this guy!".
After they invited me to join their group I decided to decline and head back to my charming hostel. I was quite pleased with myself for putting them in their place... on the other hand perhaps the LA attitude was rubbing off on me a little too easily. I am not going to have my teeth 'done'!!
strawberries PANCAKES banana
So my noon breakfast arrives as I sit outside a diner on Santa Monica Boulevard in West Hollywood under the shade of an umbrella. Now I am not keen on the idea of mixing fruit with bacin and egg, but I decided to give it a shot as I needed to try some good American style pancakes. It turns up on one large plate. Two thick pancakes the size of side plates are stacked with fresh friut on top, the bacon and egg nestled to one side. While the latter looked as though they had been squeezed on there must have been about six piggy rashers! Here goes... armed with maple syrup, iced coffee and plenty of water I destroyed the chef's creation. One Brit has been converted.
I had decided to head for Santa Monica beach to rid myself of the tell-tale pale body. This should be a simple journey seeing as all I needed to do was to head straight down to the end of Santa Monica Boulevard. But this city is so spread out that this one bus ride alone must have taken almost an hour. I am a busy guy who cannot afford to spend so long travelling! Once I had reached the Pacific Coast Highway I was happy.The view as you head down the cliff quite breathtaking, for all you can see is a vast swathe of beach reaching off into the hazy distance towards Venice and Redondo to the South and Malibu to the North. With nothing but a space saving towel (courtesy of Charlie and Jo), some suncream and the clothes on my back I walked North to Rogers beach along the concrete cycling path before turning off across the sand to meet the water. Leaving the joggers, cyclists and rollerbladers behind I slumped on the beach and basked!
Carol and Cal (my Aunt and Uncle) both worked on a drama series that ran for six years called Strong Medicine. A reunion bash was being held in a house on North Clerk Street in West Hollywood, for all of the cast and crew.... and the visiting Englishman who was tagging along. The house was interior designer heaven, with all sorts of details such as a waterfall behind the hob, a stunning jungle inspired mural licking around the curved ceiling, a domed entrance hall and a Barbara Streisand inspired (shrine) room. Oh yes, the latter... complete with a black dummy displaying a slitty, slinky mauve sequined, floor length gown with feathers pointing up out of the shoulder line. My guess is that this was worn by her once? Backstage and off-set black and white pictures of the lady herself complete the mood. You would never know that this house was owned by a middle aged gay couple would you?!
It was interesting to meet the team. It seemed to me to be that they were all very different in their nature, almost in a conflicting manner. I cannot really put my finger on what it was that gave me this impression, but I felt that noone was really relaxed and being themselves. Had I finally had a mild taste of the LA attitude? Perhaps it only really happens in the film industry where people are out for themselves and will be whoever they need to be to further themselves? I actually had the best time talking to the crazy make-up artist who worked alongside my Aunt. She moved from Brooklyn twenty years ago and had no time for the film industry politics. She smoked away while I knocked back a few margueritas and listened to her as she warned me the people you find inthe industry. Let's just say that the language was to foul to type here!
I headed back to the hostel the long way... via the outdoor bar I was at on Friday called The Abbey. With a drink in hand I got talking a couple of guys. One was quite small with a quiff to make up for it, the other tall with a geeky look enhanced by the slicked hair. They were harmless although the smaller one clearly enjoyed winding people up. We started a quick-fire banter which ended with him saying,
"So why do all British people have bad teeth?'.
To which I replied immediately "Because we have better things to concern ourselves with than fake beauty. So why did ALL Americans vote for Bush?"
A smile emerged on his face and he turned to his geeky companion and said "I like this guy!".
After they invited me to join their group I decided to decline and head back to my charming hostel. I was quite pleased with myself for putting them in their place... on the other hand perhaps the LA attitude was rubbing off on me a little too easily. I am not going to have my teeth 'done'!!
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