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Published: April 1st 2008
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Motel toilet
What's the deal with the water level in US toilets? It weirds me out It is a strange part of human psychology that a goal you have worked for for so long can appear so desirable from a distance, but so horrific up close. This is how I felt about leaving for this trip. About a month out, I couldn't wait to see the world; at the airport all I could see were problems. For that reason, it was with an unpleasant sense of anxiety and sadness that I said my goodbyes and made my way through the airport. I have not travelled internationally by myself, so it was strange to be alone; normally someone would be telling me what to do and where to go. In the absence of this (loving) voice, I felt a little lost, like I should be stressed about something, but I wasn't quite sure what.
As it was, for some reason they didn't post our gate number, so there was a horde of LA-bound folk walking round in a lost group. The gate was successfully located, but the plane was a little late (it seemed) and the whole airport procedure seemed to have taken forever (actually around 3 and a half hours).
A little nervous on the
plane, my nerves were calmed because I ended up sitting (in 35E, front middle) with a young lecturer from Massey Albany who was also presenting at a conference in the US. By the time we were up and off our conversation, combined with lack of view, had distracted me from flying altogether, which was excellent.
Although it was a long flight, it passed reasonably quickly thanks mainly to the new entertainment system. Meals were okay and I got a little bit of sleep. I was, however, pretty keen to get off the plane when we landed. We went straight off the tarmac and onto a bus through several flights of stairs and into a customs area.
The customs areas was a weird mix of security, over/dis-organisation and cheesy nationalism; on the wall as you walked around the corner was a small (maybe 6 by 8) photo of a smiling George Bush, much like a Grandma might have of her favourite grandson. The photo was all alone and seemed more than a little weird to me. I got through this area with a lot of waiting but not too much hassle and easily found my bag and soon found
myself outside the terminal. Here I got my first real sense of America. A smiling, mother-type lady asked me if I needed any help, as I looked lost (which I'm sure I did). I explained that I was looking for my shuttle and she very kindly pointed it out, before explaining that she was working for some charity organisation. I explained that I didn't have any small bills. That was okay, she said and I passed over $20. The lesson; here in the US everyone is nice, but nice for a reason. So, I was robbed at LAX, even though I am fairly sure she was an from an offical charity (tax receipt etc).
After a short wait for my shuttle (during which time the shuttle organiser was shivering, even though she was dressed for the snow- apparently it is cold for LA - I have found the weather very similar to Auckland weather before I left) I was off to Santa Monica. The shuttle driver was a nice Asian fellow who seemed very protective of me. He explained that the area that I was staying in was safe to walk in, but not to walk anywhere in LA
where I didn't see anyone else walking. As we were getting out of the van, a homeless man approached and asked for change; my driver quickly send me on my way 'go, don't give him money, GO!' and I was at the motel.
The motel itself is okay, with contrasting facilities. It is clean, if a little old but with none of the service ammenities you would expect in a NZ motel. There is only a small fridge and no kettle or cooking facilities at all, which is a bit dissappointing. There is, however, free Wi-Fi internet and cable TV.
After settling in I decided to get some lunch an have a walk around the area. Santa Monica itself is pretty nice, like an arty Surfer's Paradise, but without the highrises or the surf! Apparently it has the highest suburbian house prices in LA. I walked south towards Venice Beach along an exercise path, which was full of bikers, joggers and skaters. It was a bit of a family/tourist atmosphere and I felt completely safe.
Venice beach itself was an interesting experience, although not a totally pleasant one. It had been pegged to me as an 'alternative
community' type of location filled with interesting culture. All I found, however, was the economically and socially marginalised trying to make a living, anyway they could. Yes, there were artists and performers lining the streets, but the focus was not art, but money. Indeed, many of the performers were experiencing the same problems as other 'culture industry' capitalists; how to make money from their product. Several had signs suggesting that if you took a picture, you had to leave a tip. Given their position in society this is perhaps understandable, but I did not find it enjoyable. It was a little sad that these people on the margins of society could be celebrated as living an 'alternative' lifestyle, as if there were any choice in the matter. It reeks of the American dream; keep trying no matter what and you will make it! All these people were making was a few dollars a day.
After a while in Venice I turned around, deciding it wasn't getting any safer. Actually, I was just revealling my willingness to go along with cultural stereotypes, because I really turned around because there were getting fewer and fewer white folk around! I walked back
along the beach, which was fairly uneventful, apart from the lack of people, with the homeless the notable exception. There had been a number of homeless people in Venice, mostly staying out of the way. The homeless are really something that is experienced, rather than known. I knew there were lots of homeless people in the US, but it still really bothers me when I walk past them. This was more so on the beach. On the beach the homeless appear simply as waste, as rubbish, a surplus society could do without. As you will see in my photos, they were totally covered up, not a person but a thing, wasting away in an otherwise beautiful and opulent part of the world. Very sad.
After that I retired to my room, very tired having walked for an hour or two. I did little else, apart from walking half an hour or so to the local supermarket. Without plates or knives and forks, dinner was difficult, but I managed to get by. Other than that I spent time catching up on the internet and watching US TV, which, as you might expect is exactly like NZ TV. Infact, sitting here
in my room, doing exactly what I might be doing after a bit day in NZ, I wondered whether I ever left home. Not that LA has reminded my of New Zealand, but rather that I was already in America before I left home.
I slept okay, although I am not sure what time zone I'm in at the moment. I have booked a whole day tour of LA tomorrow (my Wednesday), leaving today as a pretty quite day, although it is due to rain tomorrow so I might have got made a mistake there. Today I plan to work on my presentation, which is getting closer by the day. I had hoped to avoid this, but given the circumstances I have little choice. I might go for a walk/run north of Santa Monica, which I hear is pretty flash, but probably little else.
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