On the flight to Fiji, the man next to me notices my Canadian passport, starts chatting me up.
"Aren't you glad you're a commonwealth citizen? We're so pleased to have Obama now."
Don't get me wrong, I'm elated Obama is president, excited about the hope it's brought to people (which I think will have as much positive effect as any change he directly brings about). But the world wasn't particularly crazy about Americans before W., had they forgotten?
I can't begrudge Americans their pride too much, but come on! Where were they when Bush was re-elected? When I cried no too loud and left the room in tears, scaring my class of Korean kindergarten kids and the secretary who brought me the news.
Monday, February 9, 2009
Beverly Hills
January 30th
Over breakfast, my roommates convince me to join them on a walking tour of Beverly Hills.
Adam, born and raised in Hollywood, is our guide on what he calls the $7 poor-man's tour. With his wild curly hair, near-translucent complexion and (redundancy alert) ill-fitting polyester pants, he looks as though he's been awake for 36 hours, drinking and smoking the whole time. He heckles people in their cars as they drive by, bargains with the gardeners to let us onto different property.
I take pictures of the people in my group taking pictures of celebrities' front gates.
***
Signs all over:
Elect Barry Brucker, City Councillor.
Talk about a name for politics. I'd vote for him.
Over breakfast, my roommates convince me to join them on a walking tour of Beverly Hills.
Adam, born and raised in Hollywood, is our guide on what he calls the $7 poor-man's tour. With his wild curly hair, near-translucent complexion and (redundancy alert) ill-fitting polyester pants, he looks as though he's been awake for 36 hours, drinking and smoking the whole time. He heckles people in their cars as they drive by, bargains with the gardeners to let us onto different property.
I take pictures of the people in my group taking pictures of celebrities' front gates.
***
Signs all over:
Elect Barry Brucker, City Councillor.
Talk about a name for politics. I'd vote for him.
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Serendipity and Chuck Berry, with a side of American Cheese
January 29th
After a bit of a slow start. I get down to the kitchen in time to watch everything being cleaned up post-complimentary pancakes. Luanna from Switzerland notices my late arrival and offers a bagel and cheese slice or, I should say, American cheese. [This marks the 3rd time I've had cheese slices in under two weeks. Before then? Years, maybe]. We discuss our plans for the day: she's going shopping in Malibu, I'm going to check out Santa Monica.
One lengthy bus ride later and I'm strolling along the pier, wondering whether I'd bump into anyone from the hostel, since a few people mentioned heaading here.
Giant pelicans swoop in and out of the water, while an assortment of characters cast fishing lines. My favorite is the man in the captain's hat and black & white striped shirt, with forearm guards and a smoke dangling from the left side of his mouth.
Down on the beach, I saunter along, mulling over my next plan of action, when out of nowhere, Luanna bounds up to me. We go back to her towel where she has been sitting with Julie, an animated Latina in her early 50s.
Julie is waxing on at length about love, giving us both sides of conversations between her and her boyfriend (who maybe kinda-sorta has left her), chain smoking all the while. She whips out her cell to show me texts in Spanish. I do my best, asking for clarification on a few words. She wants my opinion: what should she do? I think, "Probably not take my advice," but don't tell her as much.
Her hot pink fake nails can't be beat.
***
Taryn had told me via e-mail to check out her aunt's store in Santa Monica. It's called Seasons and on Montana Avenue. What kind of shop? No idea. Where on Montana? Beats me. With this information, we trudge up the street. Stop into Starbucks around 6th Ave. to get Luanna a coffee and see if they've heard of Seasons. Nope.
Luanna is itching to get back to Hollywood, so I barter to 14th Ave. We'll head back by then, successful or not.
The music catches our attention first: live drumming. We look to the storefront: Seasons -- A Most Unusual Gift Store.
We go in and I introduce myself to Taryn's aunt (definite family resemblance). Her partner, Buddy Helm, is giving a hand-drumming tutorial, which is being streamed live [check us out on the archives: Jan. 29th ~4pm, justin.tv/buddyhelm].
Back in the day, Buddy was Chuck Berry's drummer. He tells a story about being nervous for the first show. Mr. Berry's response: "Doesn't matter if you play bad, I'm Chuck Berry."
Chuck's words of wisdom: "All you need is a good ending so people know when to clap."
***
A few days later, Saturday, I have brunch in Venice Beach with Dan, my acting teacher from York. As we walk along the beach to Santa Monica, I tell him about bumping into Luanna.
The pier is packed. Dan says usually it's only busy like this in the summer. That's when I run into Kae, one of my hostel roommates.
Dan shakes his head, "I've lived here close to 30 years and this never happens to me. You're here 3 days, and it happens twice."
I smile and shrug. Stuff like that seems to happen all the time.
After a bit of a slow start. I get down to the kitchen in time to watch everything being cleaned up post-complimentary pancakes. Luanna from Switzerland notices my late arrival and offers a bagel and cheese slice or, I should say, American cheese. [This marks the 3rd time I've had cheese slices in under two weeks. Before then? Years, maybe]. We discuss our plans for the day: she's going shopping in Malibu, I'm going to check out Santa Monica.
One lengthy bus ride later and I'm strolling along the pier, wondering whether I'd bump into anyone from the hostel, since a few people mentioned heaading here.
Giant pelicans swoop in and out of the water, while an assortment of characters cast fishing lines. My favorite is the man in the captain's hat and black & white striped shirt, with forearm guards and a smoke dangling from the left side of his mouth.
Down on the beach, I saunter along, mulling over my next plan of action, when out of nowhere, Luanna bounds up to me. We go back to her towel where she has been sitting with Julie, an animated Latina in her early 50s.
Julie is waxing on at length about love, giving us both sides of conversations between her and her boyfriend (who maybe kinda-sorta has left her), chain smoking all the while. She whips out her cell to show me texts in Spanish. I do my best, asking for clarification on a few words. She wants my opinion: what should she do? I think, "Probably not take my advice," but don't tell her as much.
Her hot pink fake nails can't be beat.
***
Taryn had told me via e-mail to check out her aunt's store in Santa Monica. It's called Seasons and on Montana Avenue. What kind of shop? No idea. Where on Montana? Beats me. With this information, we trudge up the street. Stop into Starbucks around 6th Ave. to get Luanna a coffee and see if they've heard of Seasons. Nope.
Luanna is itching to get back to Hollywood, so I barter to 14th Ave. We'll head back by then, successful or not.
The music catches our attention first: live drumming. We look to the storefront: Seasons -- A Most Unusual Gift Store.
We go in and I introduce myself to Taryn's aunt (definite family resemblance). Her partner, Buddy Helm, is giving a hand-drumming tutorial, which is being streamed live [check us out on the archives: Jan. 29th ~4pm, justin.tv/buddyhelm].
Back in the day, Buddy was Chuck Berry's drummer. He tells a story about being nervous for the first show. Mr. Berry's response: "Doesn't matter if you play bad, I'm Chuck Berry."
Chuck's words of wisdom: "All you need is a good ending so people know when to clap."
***
A few days later, Saturday, I have brunch in Venice Beach with Dan, my acting teacher from York. As we walk along the beach to Santa Monica, I tell him about bumping into Luanna.
The pier is packed. Dan says usually it's only busy like this in the summer. That's when I run into Kae, one of my hostel roommates.
Dan shakes his head, "I've lived here close to 30 years and this never happens to me. You're here 3 days, and it happens twice."
I smile and shrug. Stuff like that seems to happen all the time.
The LA Overview
January 30th
I love LA. Can't put my finger on why -- maybe because I was only expecting to feel lukewarm about it -- but I do.
The hostel is in Hollywood, an area that is deliciously seedy (what does it say about me that I have an affinity toward the dingier areas of cities?). The hostel -- perhaps most? -- is reminiscent of being in residence first year of university. Fast friends, noisy, communal, plenty of boozing, boisterous fun. The majority of the people are from Australia and the UK and many seem to be coming from or going on a similar route to mine.
***
Wednesday night and a big crowd has decided to go out. It's already well past midnight; I try to help Paul -- who's spent time in the US -- explain the concept of last call (which doesn't exist in the UK or Australia). No use.
Hollywood doesn't see much night time action until the weekend, and our flock roams around, poking in and out of bars, but mostly congregates on street corners, debating which direction to head in.
The predominantly male group wants to find girls.
Paul: "Where have you guys gone out around here?"
James: "Last night, we ended up at a gay bar."
Paul: "You went to a gay bar?"
James: "Well, we didn't know it was a gay bar when we got there, now did we?"
***
And the verdict on Pinkberry?
Oh yes! Yes, please.
I love LA. Can't put my finger on why -- maybe because I was only expecting to feel lukewarm about it -- but I do.
The hostel is in Hollywood, an area that is deliciously seedy (what does it say about me that I have an affinity toward the dingier areas of cities?). The hostel -- perhaps most? -- is reminiscent of being in residence first year of university. Fast friends, noisy, communal, plenty of boozing, boisterous fun. The majority of the people are from Australia and the UK and many seem to be coming from or going on a similar route to mine.
***
Wednesday night and a big crowd has decided to go out. It's already well past midnight; I try to help Paul -- who's spent time in the US -- explain the concept of last call (which doesn't exist in the UK or Australia). No use.
Hollywood doesn't see much night time action until the weekend, and our flock roams around, poking in and out of bars, but mostly congregates on street corners, debating which direction to head in.
The predominantly male group wants to find girls.
Paul: "Where have you guys gone out around here?"
James: "Last night, we ended up at a gay bar."
Paul: "You went to a gay bar?"
James: "Well, we didn't know it was a gay bar when we got there, now did we?"
***
And the verdict on Pinkberry?
Oh yes! Yes, please.
Of Losses: Apples, Knives, Shirts
January 28th
Thought I was being all smart packing some snacks for the flight to LA. And what makes a better snack than fruit, right? And, being a good little Canadian, when I got to customs I checked the box that I had fruit and vegetables, because I did. And they took my apple. Which is fine, but the lady just threw it out! Don't they have a lunch room? It was washed and everything (which was part of the issue, as the sticker was off).
As I was packing my carry-on earlier that day, I tossed in my smaller nearly-empty shoulder bag at the last minute. Did a quick mental scan: liquids, implements of destruction? Clear.
I'm so used to toting around a pocket knife, I completely forgot it was in there, only remembered as they were digging around the bottom of my bag. The woman at the security check felt terrible that I was going to lose my knife and told me I could mail it home for about $15.
I'd had this knife since I lost the last one the same way, when I was 18 or so. I'm fairly certain it was a free-gift-with-magazine-subscription, given to me by my folks. However it was procured, I didn't buy it. The knife was so dull that you essentially had to push it through things; on more than one occasion, I used the backside of the blade with enough success that I didn't notice until I was finished. The scissors couldn't even cut paper. The screwdriver was the most useful, but not $15 + half-a-world-away useful.
Ah, but it reminded me of a story.
***
My friend's sister is notoriously absentminded about her possessions, constantly losing things. Whenever she travels, her bag looks like it's exploded within minutes arriving and she leaves a trail of belongings behind her until the moment before she absolutely has to pack.
During one visit home, she began frantically searching for a prized shirt, to no avail. She stormed about and went upstairs, tossing her room with frustrated futility.
Later, walking past the slightly ajar door, my friend saw her sister kneeling on the floor, defeated, shaking her head and murmuring to herself, "So many losses... so many losses."
I don't know why exactly, but it cracks me up every time I think about it. The reminder was definitely worth the confiscation of a lack-luster pocket knife.
Thought I was being all smart packing some snacks for the flight to LA. And what makes a better snack than fruit, right? And, being a good little Canadian, when I got to customs I checked the box that I had fruit and vegetables, because I did. And they took my apple. Which is fine, but the lady just threw it out! Don't they have a lunch room? It was washed and everything (which was part of the issue, as the sticker was off).
As I was packing my carry-on earlier that day, I tossed in my smaller nearly-empty shoulder bag at the last minute. Did a quick mental scan: liquids, implements of destruction? Clear.
I'm so used to toting around a pocket knife, I completely forgot it was in there, only remembered as they were digging around the bottom of my bag. The woman at the security check felt terrible that I was going to lose my knife and told me I could mail it home for about $15.
I'd had this knife since I lost the last one the same way, when I was 18 or so. I'm fairly certain it was a free-gift-with-magazine-subscription, given to me by my folks. However it was procured, I didn't buy it. The knife was so dull that you essentially had to push it through things; on more than one occasion, I used the backside of the blade with enough success that I didn't notice until I was finished. The scissors couldn't even cut paper. The screwdriver was the most useful, but not $15 + half-a-world-away useful.
Ah, but it reminded me of a story.
***
My friend's sister is notoriously absentminded about her possessions, constantly losing things. Whenever she travels, her bag looks like it's exploded within minutes arriving and she leaves a trail of belongings behind her until the moment before she absolutely has to pack.
During one visit home, she began frantically searching for a prized shirt, to no avail. She stormed about and went upstairs, tossing her room with frustrated futility.
Later, walking past the slightly ajar door, my friend saw her sister kneeling on the floor, defeated, shaking her head and murmuring to herself, "So many losses... so many losses."
I don't know why exactly, but it cracks me up every time I think about it. The reminder was definitely worth the confiscation of a lack-luster pocket knife.
The Internet is Neat
Check out the TED talks. You won't be disappointed.
People from all over the world give 18-minute lectures on topics in their field of expertise. The videos are streamed and the subject matter is astoundingly diverse and far-reaching (apparently, a baker speaks about innovations in bread, but I have yet to come across it).
I recommend William McDonough, not because he's a particularly smooth speaker, but because I've harbored a substantial nerd crush on him for about 4 years. And also Seth Godin, as and overall favorite (so far, anyway).
If podcasts are your thing and the bits I heard last night are any indication, check out Moth Shop & RadioLab for fantastic stories.
And for outright foolishness, Human Tetris or The Wall [a Japanese game show].
Samm's assessment: "That looks tough, I'm not gonna lie to you."
People from all over the world give 18-minute lectures on topics in their field of expertise. The videos are streamed and the subject matter is astoundingly diverse and far-reaching (apparently, a baker speaks about innovations in bread, but I have yet to come across it).
I recommend William McDonough, not because he's a particularly smooth speaker, but because I've harbored a substantial nerd crush on him for about 4 years. And also Seth Godin, as and overall favorite (so far, anyway).
If podcasts are your thing and the bits I heard last night are any indication, check out Moth Shop & RadioLab for fantastic stories.
And for outright foolishness, Human Tetris or The Wall [a Japanese game show].
Samm's assessment: "That looks tough, I'm not gonna lie to you."
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