Meeting up with Mark Rhomberg was an event some (almost) 7 years in the making. As if meeting up with Dan and Gabe 4 years after my Paris visit in 2001 wasn't enough, I was to top that by seeing a guy i first met on my very first month of my very first serious overseas trip, in Dili, East Timor, of all places in November 1998.
Mark, among other things, is a human rights activist, and was working for the East Timor Action Network, campaigning for East Timorese independence from Indonesia. He was visiting the capital, Dili, and the surrounding areas on a bit of a fact-finding mission, as well as building up a network of contacts, liaising with journalists and the like. I was there as a curious tourist, one of only 3 Westerners I met in 3 and a ½ weeks that wasn’t there as either a journalist or NGO activist. I’d had a little bit to do with the Timorese independence movement in Australia as a rampaging, idealistic University student activist back in Melbourne, but actually visiting the place, and meeting Mark and learning from him, among others, really helped me to understand the issue more clearly. I guess I can be proud that I was involved in a campaign that succeeded, albeit with the sacrifice of many, many Timorese lives.
So anyway, here I was, seven years later, hitting this guy up for accommodation. To be fair, we had kept in regular contact via email over the years, and the offer had been put forward to me (altho I wonder if these people I meet and offer me couch space actually expect to have to come thru with it!! ;-) ). Nevertheless, it was good to see the lad again.
Having somewhere to stay in a city like L.A. is a godsend. Even the cheapest backpacker dorms cost in the region of US$30 per night, and as I was planning 3-4 nights in L.A., this would save me a packet of money. Mark, a high school teacher, lives in an apartment midway between Santa Monica and Brentwood, which you could say is in one of the nicer spots in the city. Three miles from Santa Monica beach, one mile from UCLA. Not too far from the Hollywood stars’ enclave of Bel Air.
Los Angeles. Now, depending on what kind of experience you want from this city, you could spend weeks here, and empty your back balance. Disneyland, Universal, Warner Bros and NBC Studios, Baywatch styled beaches, Hollywood star spotting, clubbing down Sunset Strip, you name it. Or not. This wasn’t what I wanted from L.A. I had 4 days Max here, and a minimal budget. I guess you could say I was in the wrong place if I didn’t want to spend a wad of cash. I reckon I did okay.
Mark’s schedule during my stay was pretty hectic, so most of the time, I was left to me own devices. Day One, I devoted to checking out and hanging in at Santa Monica and Venice Beaches. A 10minute bus ride from Mark’s gaff, and I was there, right in the thick of Santa Monica, dropped off practically at the edge of the Pacific Ocean, the beach, and Santa Monica Pier.
If you ever watch Hollywood cop-based movies, the kind where the young novice is teamed up with the old guy whose retiring tomorrow, and they have a manhunt thru a crowded beach side carnival scene, it’s inevitably filmed here. Santa Monica pier is a relic of times gone by, its quaint 1920’s carousel (featured in flick The Sting) being the sentimental favourite among all of the amusement park rides and sideshow stalls, market vendors and street artists plying their wares. Despite being thronged with tacky tourists with bratty kids, I quite enjoyed strolling along and among the crowds.
This is also the beach where Baywatch was filmed, and yes, it’s true, the lifeguard chicks do all wear those red one-piece swimsuits with accentuated boob jobs bulging out the top, carrying the tiny little floatation devices. And yes, it’s also true, that this is the place where all the ‘beautiful people’ of the city come to show off their tans, pecs, abs and biceps. And no, it’s not true, I am not one of them!
Up top, on the cliffs overlooking the beach is Pacific Palisades. Aside from people watching, the favourite pastime of folks up here, particularly the seniors, is shuffleboard. There’s something like 6 or 8 shuffleboard fields up here – now that’s something I never expected from L.A.!!
Strolling along the beachfront, I slowly made my down to Venice Beach to check out the bustling street market along the Venice Boardwalk. Ignoring all of the tacky tourist trap shop-fronts selling cheap t-shirts and fridge magnets and postcards and the like, the street stalls themselves were a hippy/counterculture paradise on earth.
Loads and loads and loads of artists of all description selling their goods, lots of tie-dye stuff, musicians and performers, tarot readings, activism groups with card tables full of petitions to sign, even a young Aussie Aboriginal busking away on the didgeridoo, the whole bit. And on a 30-degree day with bright blue sky, hundreds of people.
The Lonely Planet describes it as thus: “If aliens landed on Venice’s famous Boardwalk, they’d probably blend right into the human zoo of bikini-clad cyclists, chainsaw-juggling entertainers, wannabe Schwarzenegger’s, a roller-skating Sikh minstrel and zealous ‘meat-is-murder’ activists. This is the place to get your hair braided, skin tattooed or your aura adjusted. It’s a freak show that must be seen to be believed, preferable on hot summer weekends when the scene is at its most surreal…When you require quirk, Venice definitely provides your quota.”
It was great. My kinda scene. Grabbing a cheap slice of pizza to eat, I then sat down at a public outdoor basketball court with a few dozen other folks, and watched a few games of 2-on-2 between super athletic young black and Hispanic kids, catching some serious sun in the process.
A visit to L.A. would not be complete without a Saturday night down on the Sunset Strip, checking out the bars and clubs where the L.A. rock n roll scene is at its peak.
I wanted to check out the Whisky-A-Go-Go where the Doors were the house band in the 60’s, the famous House of Blues, the Roxy, the Troubadour, and of course Johnny Depp-owned The Viper Room, where River Phoenix met his maker many moons ago.
Only problem with all of this, is that this is L.A. right, where dress codes are strictly enforced by big burly bouncers who don’t take any shit, and I’m a poor backpacker with about 4 changes of clothes, none of which would meet the standards required.
I ain’t the pretty young thing they’re looking for at the door. And, two blokes, one in his early 30’s, the other in his late 40’s – not gonna happen. Even then, the queues at the door to get in were quite lengthy, and I hate queues…oh, and the cover charge to gain entry even if you do wait, and pass inspection, well, lets not even go there! So, with Mark as my guide we drove down to The Strip, walked up and down the Strip a few times, took a few happy snap pics, popped into an old 1950’s style diner for a coupla beers, then headed home, in bed by 1am. Well, at least I can say I’ve been there, done that.
Mark was pretty keen to show me some of the lesser known spots of L.A., so early Sunday morning we drove thru the Hollywood Hills to Topanga State Park for a spot of hiking – a nice 5 or 6 mile return trip to the top for a view across Bel Air and looking down to Santa Monica and the Pacific Ocean. This I appreciated – there’s nothing like a solid hill walk to dust off the cobwebs and fill your lungs with some fresh morning air (before the L.A. traffic pollution arc-ed up and filled the atmosphere with carbon monoxide of course!)
Afterwards, I was dropped off at the Getty Centre in Westwood while Mark took care of his high-school assignment marking duties.
The Getty Centre is an amazing $1 billion dollar (!) museum of Art, set on a hilltop overlooking the city, set in immaculately landscaped gardens, within awe-inspiring post-modern architectural buildings. It is a legacy of deceased philanthropist John Paul Getty, a gift to the City of Los Angeles, and man what a gift.
I spent a couple of hours wandering the halls and gardens with jaw permanently agape at the displays. My only disappointment was that the Photography Hall was closed, as they were midway thru an exhibition changeover. I could easily have spent many more hours there, and highly recommend visiting it. It’s also free entry.
The strange thing about Los Angeles is that because it is so unbelievably huge and sprawling, it’s actual ‘Downtown’ district is really quite small. I found this hard to believe myself, but the financial district is only a few square blocks in size. L.A. instead has several pockets of activity spread all around the metropolis. For me to catch a bus to Downtown is well over an hour eastbound.
This I did, with the idea in mind of visiting the Museum Of Contemporary Art, where a Jean-Michel Basquiat exhibition was on display. This famous young Graffiti artist grew to fame quickly in New York the early 1980’s, worked with Andy Warhol briefly, and was dead of a heroin overdose at age 27 in 1988. Myself always being intrigued by pop culture and sub-cultures, had to see this exhibition.
Most of the works on display were on loan from the Brooklyn Gallery, and were for the first time on display outside of that Gallery. I have to say, I thought it was pretty darn impressive. I didn’t have an enormous personal knowledge of Basquiat, just what I had read in art magazines and saw of him from the late 90’s film of his life, but now I think I could give a reasonable account of his life and work.
The rest of my time in the Downtown district was spent scene-spotting, with the aid of a tourist info book. The Bradbury Building where Harrison Ford, as Deckard, in Blade Runner hunts down the replicant Pris (Darryl Hannah) was my favourite scene-spot.
Another short bus ride, and then my afternoon was spent walking on foot around the Sunset Strip again. This time, mid afternoon, I actually managed to get into the House Of Blues for a beer, just one, mind – no door bitches on yet to scrutinize yer threads, and chill out on the rustic patio overlooking the city. When it came time to pay up, chatting to the bartender, he clocked my accent and gave me the drink on the house. Nice!
It was at this point that I realised I hadn’t even bothered to check out Hollywood yet. Not my kind of scene, but seeing as I’m here, I may as well. Another short bus ride down Sunset Boulevard, and as I’m getting off the bus I turn around I notice the sun just dropping behind the Hollywood Hills.
Ahh, it doesn’t get any more clichéd than this – standing on Sunset Boulevard just at the moment that the sun is doing just that. What a Kodak moment. So then, I stroll up to Hollywood Boulevard to check out what Hollywood wankers have put their names to stars on the footpath. I’ve been told that it actually costs the star $5000 to have their named ‘star-ed’, so basically anyone who is vaguely famous and has a spare Five Grand can do this...such a vanity moment, don’t you think?
Anyway, as I’m moving along the street is suddenly cordoned off, police and barricades are everywhere, and thousands, literally thousands of people gathering on the street. Getting a little closer, I see rows of beaming halogen spotlights and photographers by the dozen, and then a stretch limo cruises by me with some pretty young thing in a sash of cloth masquerading as a dress pops out (no clue as to who it was)...it’s a Hollywood movie premiere I’ve stumbled upon. “Flight Plan” with Jodie Foster. This is kinda funny, and a bit of a spectacle, so I hang around for about 15 minutes, then move on, bored by it all already.
My next goal is to try and get a pic of the classic ‘Hollywood’ sign way up on the hills – still haven’t seen it yet, but it’s dark now, so I pass on the idea, and bus it back to Mark’s. People always say that L.A.’s public transport system is crap, but I’ve used it to good effect the past 3-4 days, and I’ve found it alright. I’ve even used it at night, supposedly the dodgiest time with the dodgiest characters coming out of the woodwork. Granted, I didn’t hit East L.A. or South Central, but It’s all fine and good as far as I’m concerned.
So, with that, and one last night at Mark’s, I’m out of here. The Greyhound Bus station is a bitch to get to. Gotta get the same bus into Downtown as the other day, walk about 10 blocks, then catch another bus to the dodgy industrial district Southside of town. To top things off now, after 3 days of beautiful blue skies, the weather has turned the wrong side of shady, and it’s bucketing down with rain.
Los Angeles, it was short but sweet. Nice place to visit, could never live there tho.
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