This is Californication!

Hollywood, Los Angeles. CA

The sun had long set. I didn't have my glasses on, so everything ahead of me looked like a finger painting. Little smudges of colourful light. My shoulders were tense enough to snap under the weight. My feet ached with each step, and I could feel the sting of an oncoming blister. I wiggled my little toe around in my shoe, but knew it was too late to avoid the inevitable. Squeaky skin. Rub, rub, rub. I'm probably going to make it worse doing this. Do I have a blister already perhaps? Ouch. The backpack's hip strap is sitting potentially a little too high and cutting right into my stomach, giving me obsessive thoughts that my navel peircing will be torn out by the slightest wrong move. Step. Step. Step. Step. Alternating standing on pavement cracks only, and then standing on no pavement cracks at all. Crack, crack, crack, crraaaaa... damn. Missed it. No crack, no crack, no crack, no craaaa... *jump* no crack! Ouch. Don't ever jump with a 25kg backpack on. I need longer legs. Who am I competing with exactly? My feet? Anything to distract my mind from the pain (in the ass of carrying a heavy backpack) I guess. How much of a percentage of my body weight is 25kg exactly. 40% maybe? Not enough. Keep walking chubby until it's 50%. Why am I so mean to myself? Fuck this walk seems a lot longer than usual. 2 miles. Is that more or less than 2km. More. Ow. Ow. Ow. I told Karlos a minute ago that my bag feels heavier than usual. Will I piss him off if I tell him I think it's actually getting heavier with each step I take? Probably. He didn't seem too interested the last time. Seriously, what the hell. I think this pack is actually swelling and about to burst. And you know what, actually, I couldn't give a crap at this point if someone held me at gun point and asked me to hand my pack over. Fuck yeah! I'd say. Take it, mate! And then I'd watch them, roaring with laughter, try to lug this heavy son of a bitch. I mean what more do I need than a toothbrush and a credit card? Next time I travel I'm giving myself a 2kilo limit. This is ridiculous.

And on it went...

As I maintained such a conscious awareness of our walk, I also began to marvel at the contrast... It was exactly one month ago when we first arrived in LA together. It was a sunny afternoon and we had bounced along Hollywood Boulevard with a spring in our step, despite our heavy packs. Everything was new and exciting to me and I couldn't wait to explore. The Hollywood sign winked at me in the distance - partly because of the sunlight hitting it, but also as it said "welcome" to me. Jinny led us the way and excitedly pointed out places of interest. This time however, a month later, it was completely different. The sun had long set as we made our last walk along Hollywood Bvd, towards the metro station. The streets were dark, no Hollywood signs were winking at me, and Jinny wasn't walking along with us. Instead she was at home, without us.

Our time in LA was just the best and, whilst we were excited to be moving on and continuing our adventures, we were sorry to be leaving. I couldn't help thinking how poignant it was - that the streets were bright on our arrival, and dark on our departure... but we'll be back LA, to light up your streets once more... ;-)


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A tale from the City of Angels:

"Are you alright miss?"

"What? Oh, yeah. I'm ok..."

"Bit shaken huh!"

"Yeah..."

The bus driver pulled to a stop and everyone crowded around my seat. I, however, had already made my move whilst the bus was still in motion. There was no way I wanted to stick around in that seat after what had just happened... I was shaking like a leaf, and felt so far out of any comfort zone I had ever known. This was completely new territory for me.

"Who the fuck goes around shooting guns at moving buses!"

The bullet had hit my window, inches from my head, and fortunately ricoched. Thank you to whoever invented reinforced glass, is all I can say. The bullet had left a large, shattered mark on the window, and this was the only thing that made me certain of what had actually just happened.

I do remember the moment it hit. Kind of in slow motion... I know, I know, I'm totally turning on the drama - but it really was. It sounded like a stone had hit the window at first, hard and fast. Shards of glass even flew at Karlos and me, making me think that the window was about to completely shatter. But it didn't. And when I turned my head to see the mark on the window, I instantly had that sinking "what the..." feeling in my stomach. That was no stone.

Karlos was looking out the window as it happened. He couldn't tell if it was the car that passed us, or perhaps someone across the street who had fired the shot... all I could think about was that there was some sniper out there placing a target on my forehead. Karlos reached and held my hand in our new seat; this was his way of saying "I can see you're shaken, but it's ok."

The bus driver, and everyone else on the bus, were really sweet. And we eventually pulled into the North Hollywood bus station with giggles, watching everyone line up to take photos of the 'impact zone.' I guess you can never control the nutbars of this world, and all we can really ever do is not let the "what ifs" of life dictate the things we do, and don't. Que sera, sera. So, albeit with shaky nerves, we boarded a train for the final part of our journey and sat waiting for the next crazy to entertain us... we didn't have to wait long. Oh how I long for the day I no longer need to travel by public transport with, what I have dubbed, the "minions."




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This little scene had the potential to ruin what had otherwise been a completely wonderful time in the city of angels. Almost, but not quite... let me reflect:

After our southern adventure, we headed back to LA LA land for some more fun. And fun was had indeed. If I can describe L.A. in a sentence it would be this:

Los Angeles is crazy beautiful."

It is beautiful because of the people; everyone is so open and friendly, and even the bus drivers have the time to help you. And it is beautiful because of the large department stores, that sell everything you need, and some, and are so cheap. And it is beautiful because of the organic supermarkets, and Italian restaurants that sell giant slices of delicious pizza, and Irish bars that sell pints for $2.50, and all the bars that make strong cocktails. And it is beautiful because it has some of the world's biggest and fastest rollercoasters. And it is beautiful because the sun is almost always shining, and the streets are lined with tall palm trees, and purple blossom trees, and white roses, and you don't need to travel very far in any direction to find great entertainment and good food. But it is mostly beautiful because of the people.

And it is crazy because people fire guns at your bus as your travelling, and yell right into your face as you casually walk past, and old men pole dance for you on the metro, and street buskers plug their electric guitars in on the train and then expect you to tip their noise, and old men's pants fall down and they say it's because they saw you, and seedy old british men hand you wads of dollar bills and tell you to tip the dancer at the titty bar, whilst every other male in the place are more interested in you and your girlfriend, even though you do both have clothes on. And it's crazy because you walk up the street and have to cross because a mad man with a gun is on the loose and the cops have closed that bit. And sometimes the streets smell like urine, and the roads have more holes to fill than a nympho's sleepover, and litter is strewn everywhere. But it is mostly crazy because of the
people.

LA is a place of contrasts - people living on the street, outside the theatres of the stars. Mega mansions vs. cardboard boxes. Rich men driving along in their porsches, as crazy shoeless drug addicts run wailing down the street. Beautiful women without makeup, and ugly women who are perfect.

To write with retrospect, I initially wasn't sure what to expect of LA. I'd imagined everyone tall, tanned, blonde and surgecally enhanced. I imagined myself pale in comparison. And I imagined Karlos would see all of these "hot" women and sigh at what he is missing out on. How wrong could I have been. I didn't find LA to be a place of beautiful people; rather, I found it to be a place full of people brave enough to look how they want, and do what they want. You can be anything you want to be in LA and the city of angels reminded me that we are all beautiful in our own way... if we own it. During my time there I barely wore makeup, practically lived in my demin skirt and t-shirts, and left my hair to do whatever the hell it wanted (it changed daily). If I dressed up, this involved sticking in some hoop earings. But I looked great anyway, because I felt great - I was happy and confident being me. I am blonde, and natural, and I am usually a little bit ruffled - and this makes me a beautiful person because this is just who I am and I am not hiding.

LA also awoke my desire to be an actress once again. And not just because we did a bus tour of Beverly Hills and saw all the mega mansions of the rich and famous (want!) - but because we did a tour of the Kodak Theatre, and got to go behind the scenes and imagine we were at 'Oscar night.' I walked down the large, red carpeted staircase, imaging throngs of admirers yelling out, "we love you, Hayley!" "breathtaking performance," and "oh, you're bound to win best actress!" And I walked into the theatre and peered down at the stage and imagined the host saying: "and the oscar goes to..." And myself saying: "Words cannot describe what this means to me. I would like to thank the academy..." And I imagined myself clutching that golden statue (who looks strangely like an alien) and taking the "winners walk" and posing for the cameras of the press who are saying: "Hayley, you're a star!"... and making my way to the venue of Elton John's post-oscars bash, to drink martinis with my fellow actors, and to talk about our next projects, and what we want to achieve... I mean, Who wouldn't want all this - actor or not. LA has a strangely enticing appeal that allows you to let down your hair and join all the other overtly confident residents saying "I am going to be a star!" LA encourages confidence. And it encourages you to dream. LA is a place where you feel 'anything is possible.'

And I'm sure to go back.