2/19/04 9:50pm Los Angeles, CA
I was up before 8:00am today, and the room was freezing. I couldn’t find any means of heating it last night, so I just relied on the blankets, and they did their job. I was anxious to get out of there, as my excitement has been building for reaching L.A. I don’t quite know the reason for this, as I’ve been there before, and I’m aware of all its problems, but I guess the thrill of movie-making and the famous all congregating in one place gets my motor running for whatever reason.
Both yesterday and today I encountered many vineyards along the road, but today I also ran into oilfields along the coast. At one point, I saw a small island full of palm trees just a few hundred feet out, connected to the mainland by a small bridge, no wider than a two-lane road. On the island, just visible, was a large flame dancing in the wind. I couldn’t see where it was coming from or what it was doing there, and it got me so fascinated I turned off and drove back as close as I could get to it via the exit road, which dead-ended in both directions on that side of the highway. There happened to be a truck on the other end, so I drove over and asked the guy if he knew what the island was. He told me it was actually part of the oil drilling system in the area, disguised to look like something natural and beautiful. “Fucking pollution is what it is,” he said.
I had suspected that the rest of the way down, littered with towns and popular beaches as it is, would be one long stretch of buildings, but I was wrong. There are many places down here just as marshy and desolate as those I’ve seen further north. I stopped at the beach in Carpenteria and ate lunch at a deli there with an open back porch that looked like it would’ve been great for a kegger. They keep it closed unless a customer like me asks to be served outside, which apparently isn’t often. They had nice wooden tables supporting large umbrellas, but only green, plastic lawn chairs to sit in. Many more chairs were stacked against a wooden fence, on the other side of which someone was raking their lawn. A bubbling fountain was running on one side of the lot, and there were at least half a dozen young trees sitting in pots, waiting to be planted, two of which were lemon trees, the first I’ve seen. The guy who served me was a young Hispanic, probably a teenager, with two pierced ears. He didn’t act like a waiter, instead talking with me like an old buddy, which was fine by me. The sandwich I ordered was twice as big as I expected, but I ate it all.
I followed Highway 1 past famous beaches and towns like Malibu, but the beaches charged for parking so I didn’t stop. As I got further south, I started seeing more traffic, but my hunch paid off and there was never stopping or a delay, which I probably would’ve encountered on the interstates, and I found myself in downtown L.A. before I knew it. The first hostel I stopped at only took international travelers with passports, and the man running it said the only hostel that would take me was down a few streets, right on the beach, so I went there and checked in. In marked contrast to San Francisco, most non-beach parking in the area is free, and I found a decent spot with no difficulty. This hostel is very lived in, but not too bad. I made the guy at the desk show me the room before I’d pay though, which I haven’t done before.
Once I’d gotten situated, I headed out onto Venice Beach and the boardwalk. They happened to be filming an episode of “The Guardian” on a basketball court right near the hostel. It was pretty cool, and there were lots of bystanders nonchalantly taking it in. It’s a very thick mix of types of people out there, and I didn’t feel at all out of place among the skaters, bikers, artists, musicians, and street vendors lining both sides of the sidewalk. The sun, which had been out in the morning, was now firmly enshrouded in cloud cover once a gain. Around 4:00pm, all the vendors were packing up their wares and I was halfway to Santa Monica, so I went ahead and completed the trip. I got a picture of the amusement park, with all the rides set out on the pier, then moved into the city a couple streets and started heading back. About halfway there, I stopped at a converted fire house that was now a bar and restaurant for dinner, and by the time I got out of there it was dark outside. I headed out into the night with just a little trepidation, staying in the light whenever possible and switching sides of the street every once in a while. That might not have kept me safe, but it made me feel better anyway. Then, all of a sudden I saw a familiar sight that welled up from my memory: a giant moving sign consisting of a model doll that moved its leg standing atop the doorway to a giant store. I believe I got a picture of this when I toured the city seven years ago on my way to Australia, as well as a giant pair of binoculars just down the street.
Just when I started to think maybe I’d gotten further away than I’d thought, I saw the sign for the road that the hostel’s on and breathed a sigh of relief. I was back in Venice. I went straight to the common room and took off my shoes. There were three other people there having a conversation that I eventually joined. Then we started playing cards, and after playing a few hands of poker for fun, I tried to teach them euchre, but it’s pretty complicated and we eventually just fell to talking. One of the guys, Alistair, did a card reading for the English woman, then said he wanted to do one for me. It was uncanny how close he got to my actual situation without me telling him anything about myself except my name and that I was from Texas. He predicted I would be a very successful businessman with a lot of money, and said he saw me living in a big blue house. Pretty interesting, and I’ve never had anything like it done before. On top of that, he asked me rather than the other way around, and it was free.
I decided to call it a night instead of trying to find someone to venture out with, so I can get up tomorrow and see some of the stuff nearby before heading to San Pedro.
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