Los Angeles

There is no way to visit Los Angeles without a car, so Turtle and I hired one and headed south Saturday morning. The drive from Santa Barbara to LA takes about 1.5h, but then, of course, we got off course.

First we had to stop and get my tickets (to San Francisco) in Santa Barbara. Santa Barbara is paradise on earth, stunningly beautiful, reminding me of southern France with banana trees and palms. However, like all American cities, the streets are ordered in a grid with blocks, far from the scattered chaos of European towns.

Malibo
Then we took Hwy 101 south along the coast. With the mountains to the left, the Pacific to the right and a clear blue sky above we traveled through the wine districts. We took of on Mulholland Drive (yes, that Mulholland Drive) down to Malibo (yes, that Malibo). Malibo isn't really a town, more like a cluster of castle-like houses with walls, security cameras and beautiful gardens that abruptly turns into desert where the sprinklers end.


After finding parking on McDonalds, becoming a customer was cheaper than the public parking lot, we took a stroll on Surfrider Beach. No surfers in sight though.

Santa Monica
From the Lamborghinies in Malibo to Segways in Santa Monica beach. This is the place where Baywatch where recorded. The lifeguards we saw was, however, fully dressed :-(. Santa Monica pier, complete with an amusement park, is 100 years old and portraited not only in Baywatch but in Star Trek too. The waves were amazing and the water crystal clear. Go there!

Hollywood
After the swim we took Sunset Blvd past landmarks like UCLA (nice campus!) and Beverly Hills (nice Porsches!) up to Hollywood. There we walked down the Walk of Fame and I got a picture with me beside the star of my favorite smuggler. The Chineese Theater, where all the films have premiere, has imprints of famous people, mostly shoes and hands, but also duck feet and wands.

We spotted the Hollywood sign and after a lot of zooming I finally got a corny picture of it. Then we drove past Pink's, where the stars have their hangover hot dogs, down to our hostel under the landing strip of LAX. The place was cheap and had free popcorn, but otherwise it wasn't exactly Buckingham Palace.


Venice
Combine crazyness, weed and mermaids and you get Venice. I hunted down the perfect pair of pilots among street performers, medical marijuana stands and botox on the beach, and tons of t-shirts with funny (?) prints ("The guvernator" is a good one).



The city of fallen angels
Turtle has relatives in San Diego he wanted to visit and I had to return to Santa Barbara because there are no buses on Labor Day (tomorrow). We separated and I went a tour in Downtown LA before my Greyhound departed. It took five seconds before I realized that I was the only white chick in the hood. These neighborhoods are...rough. Since it was a smoldering hot day I wore shorts. Short shorts. And did I get attention. When I had to walk 1 km from the fashion district to the station, I got several articular compliments on my looks. Especially one persistent gentleman wanted to aid me economically if I made friends with him. The scene was somewhat comical since the top of his melon head was the high of my shoulder and I could easily have picked it with a pit shagi. The Boss once told me that I have "Fuck off!" written in my forehead. It's no good when half the neighborhood's inhabitants speak Spanish and the rest are illiterate. I used international finger language. Now Mom's gonna freak out. But no worries, it was broad daylight in the middle of the street, and I'm protected by a Grand Canyon of class and racial differences, mocking is all they can do, since we all know how easy it is to kill a mockingbird.

Home again
Now I'm back in peaceful Santa Barbara. Ahh...