Yankeeland Part 3: Lessons From Day 2

THESE EVENTS TOOK PLACE: June 1, 2009 (USPDT)

So my second day in LA was a day of learning. I learned a few key points about travelling that I'd like to say I'll never forget, but once you've heard the back-to-back errors I made to learn these lessons, you'll probably doubt it too.

I slept in as late as was borderline possible. Checkout at the Lodge is midday so I slept until 11.20am, speed-showered, packed my crap up and made the dash with my ample luggage down to the lobby in a record breaking 25 minutes.

The speed-showering was a miracle all in itself as this experience provided my first lesson. Having toiled with the All-In-One Foreign Shower the night before, I now knew that the little knob-latch on the bath tap has to be pulled up to redirect the water flow to the shower rose.

Easier said than done, the knob-latch doesn't like to be pulled up. Also, this particular All-In-One Foreign Shower had a strange dial-like hot-cold-tap that was a challenge all in itself. Add to that the "water-pressure threshold" that means that the water doesn't start coming out of the shower rose immediately as it should, it stuffs around a bit before gracing you with it's presence.

So toiling again I was, bewildered as to why I couldn't get it working this time, I was leaning right in to the taps and contraptions... and I think you know what happened next. My entire fringe and the first few inches of my scalp: soaked.

Naturally, I was thrilled. Without a hair straightener purchased yet, I had no plans on getting my high maintenance hair wet just yet. (You'll all be relieved to know there was a mini hairdryer in the bathroom, so that solved the problem mostly.)

Lesson Learned: Stupid, stubborn All-In-One Foreign Showers should not be leaned into and should generally be treated with all caution.

My next lesson came in the form of a cab ride. Deciding it was probably worth it for the convenience of not hauling luggage on buses that may not even drop me super close to the hostel, I asked at reception roughly how much the journey might cost via taxi and accepted their offer to call me one when I felt "no more than twenty dollars" was reasonable.

Try a few cents shy of thirty!

Lesson Learned: Either don't trust vague advice on cab fares and/or be prepared to pay through the nose for convenience.

My excitement about my travels really set in upon walking through the gates of Banana Bungalow - Hollywood (as opposed to Banana Bungalow - West Hollywood, which is just 10 minutes away and features in later activities) or "Vibe Hotel" as it's also now being called.

Excitement? I loved the place instantly. I just got such a buzz arriving and seeing it with my own eyes. It's like something out of a movie (sans empty moldy swimming pool), y'know: character arrives in the big city to follow dreams and checks into cheap classic American accommodation, think "Stuck On You".






My room, 209, from across the way, getting cleaned



From the loud and lurid paint to the potplant palm trees, I love it all.

I waited while two girls were checked in and taken to their room, then it was my turn. I paid my $175 for 7 nights, got my tour and rundown of the place then was taken to the same room as the girls before me: Denmark, Emma and Sara, travelling the US for 3 months. There was an awkward moment where the bubbly Hostel Guy introduced us all in that oblivious teacher way where students meeting for the first time are expected to like each other and become best friends instantly.

I had my choice of top or bottom on the remaining free third bunk, I chose bottom. My particular bunk was in the most pokey corner of the room with the least amount of floor space for luggage amidst the door, ladder and Sara's bunk. But I loved it no less. (Just maybe a little less when Thai Lady [elaboration later] went up and down the ladder several times an hour and then turned out to be a snorer.)

After getting myself sorted, Priority One was to seek out a beverage. No amount of water drinking and moisturising since landing had helped me shake off my dehydration. Forget Jetlag, it's Hydrationlag for me. Thank goodness for the Vending Machine Enclave here, I'd have deteriorated into a crisp by now without it.

Only in America could Coke be cheaper than water. For the same amount of liquid, 75c vs $1. Ha!



Post-hydration, my next priority was to replace the products confiscated by Customs and pick up a few necessities, i.e. a hair straightener, which some helpful Camp America Alumni advised on the forums could be purchased cheap at discount outlets such as Target and Wal-Mart, etc.

No Wal-Marts in Hollywood, but I'd found a Target on Google Maps two main streets down from Hollywood Blvd. This is when my next lesson, and a major one, took place.

Armed with the map on the BB welcome brochure, I visited the desk to ask about buses and route directions. (At this point I hadn't yet discovered the brilliance of the Metro.net Trip Planner, or had the brains to consider Googling something like it.)

Hostel Girl said it'd be easier to walk half of it and bus the other half to save swapping buses. This seemed fair and evidently my Advice Lesson Learned less than an hour ago hadn't sunk in. And so I hit the pavement.

The first of several sidenotes throughout this longwinded Lesson Learned: I stopped to take a snap of Hollywood Blvd, the view from my hostel gates, and could hardly believe the building diagonally across the road was "The Museum Of Death". But of course! Naturally.





It's unlike me not to be curious, but at the time I immediately passed over the thought of "What on earth would they get up to in there?", I decided I didn't especially want to know. Curiosity killed the cat though and I've just Googled it. And no, I won't be doing a tour of The Museum Of Death folks.

Pretty much where the vision of my Hollywood Blvd photo ends, the Walk Of Fame begins. I couldn't help myself walking along staring at the ground and stopping periodically to snap photos of the goodies. I had to exercise restraint not to take a photo of every second bloody one!

Soooo much fun. I went a bit arty-farty creative on occasion and felt the need to put my shoe in the shot or cast a cool shadow or two.



I'll exercise further restraint and not post all of them in this entry, but do make sure you check 'em out!

I will put this one in, as I was rather fond of it:



I must have looked like such a typical tourist step-snap-step-snapping, not to mention the dozens of unsuspecting victims that probably wanted to holler "Oi! Install some brake lights, Leibovitz!" when they ran up my backside. (Pretty sure Yankees don't say "oi" though.)

So it was pretty much halfway along my traversed chunk of Sunset Blvd that I began to realise I was buggered. Of both the tired and without a paddle variety.

I started studying bus stop signs but little of it made sense given that at some point, no doubt somewhere between a step and a snap, I had dropped my hostel brochure map. I had a fairly clear idea of the lay of the land, so I wasn't lost, but I had no sense of distance without smaller street landmarks to rely on.

Definitely buggered.

I kept saying to myself (not out loud, there are enough crazies in Hollywood) "just a bit further... I'll get a bus in a minute... it's not that far...". Far it was. At least I chose to walk Sunset as my main route, there were plenty of attractions and distractions. None of which I stopped to enjoy or photograph until the voyage home as I was too, you know, buggered.

See how stupid-far Nic The Naïve walked (and no, I think it was much longer than 41 minutes!)

Lesson Learned: Maps are not a trustworthy source in judging distance, unless you have the common sense to "Get Directions" on Google to tell you exactly how stupid-far a location is.

Common sense might also have told me stop and ask someone about buses sooner than Vine. The 300-odd metre break from walking between Sunset & Hollywood was still heavenly though.
Seeing the "Target" sign rise up in front of me neighboured by a "Starbucks Coffee" sign was like seeing an oasis in a desert.





As I sat drinking my "MocFrap" [Starbucks speak] in the beautiful little courtyard full of little eateries surrounding Target, I saw, for the first time, the Hollywood sign. Far off in the distance and just visible between foliage, but right smack in my line of sight nonetheless.



I just BUZZED with excitement. Apart from my wave of adoration at my hostel, I still really hadn't gotten truly and crazy excited about the fact that I was in Los Angeles. I just sat there, totally jazzed, trying not to grin too much and scare the natives.

Target was fun in and of itself. It was absolutely enormous, probably at least twice the size of Penrith's BigW or Target, I'm talking almost of Bunnings proportions. I got Shampoo, Conditioner, Deoderant, Razors and Facewash for US$13 and also bought a pair of Revlon straighteners for US$25, which I'm surprisingly impressed with given my usual GHD-snobbery.

Check out these mini straighteners! The larger ones next to it hardly do them justice given they're a bit smaller than standard too. But my goodness! Teehee.



With a few people in front of me in the queue at the register, I marvelled at how beautiful the black checkout chick girl's hair was, just really lovely, smooth, straight. You can imagine my surprise when my turn came and she had a five o'clock shadow. Blimey, it had been a long day, I just wasn't quite ready for a trannie.


The view from Target: La Brea-Santa Monica Blvd intersection and the Hollywood Hills

A bit snap happy on the trip home:


For Lachlan, the biggest frigging movie billboard you'll ever see, photography doesn't do it justice


Classic


Nicole Was Here 2009


The CNN building, larger than words can express


LA Film School, that graphic on the side of the building is basically a giant screen

I found the most phenomenal music store I could have never possibly imagined. Apart from being enormous, AMOEBA had everything from vinyl to vintage tees to memorabilia to cassettes:


Just one small corner of the vinyl section, see the poster-lined walls?!


A bit more deep than "50% off!" or something


A small section of the cassette tape area


A shirt I most certainly plan to buy if it's still there before I depart LA for Sydney in 6 months

Nikki, you might very well be getting a fantabulous "The Cure" shirt if the 6 months thing falls in your favour.

I got the stinkeye for taking photos, so I left it there.


Home at last!

A bit of dorky snap-happiness as a result of the dorm being empty of any of it's 6 inhabitants:


That's my bunk with the red bags and my black/gold Adidas jacket, note the sheet I hung on the window coz most of the blinds at BB are broken and the light really beams in!


The kitchenette, the lockers and Emma & Sara's bunk, note the luggage in the middle of the floor in the bottom left coz it's so crowded and Sara's giant Homer doll that freaks me out sometimes (the googly eyes work in cartoon TV form, but in doll form they're quite unsettling when they catch you off guard)


The view from my bunk, little red sofa next to Liz & Tracey's bunk, bathroom door, heckloads of luggage again!


The kitchenette


The bathroom

After completely and totally buggering myself, it was a quiet night in from that point.

The other lesson took place at "Best Buy" behind Target where I was advised I would find the most complete and huge cheap electronics store around. I had been planning on getting wireless internet once I got here and, being that my Three modem broke weeks before I left, I had some research and shopping to do.

Even in the shadow of my Extreme Hike on the same day, I could never have fathomed myself so daft as I discovered myself to be at Best Buy. I'll just do it like a Band-Aid, the respect of my friends and family out the window: I had no idea my laptop had Wi-Fi.

I should really have gotten a crash course from Lachlan pre-flight on the ins and outs of mobile communications. What a flippin' idiot.

After paying a whopping fee for an hour of internet usage at The Lodge, then waiting in line for half an hour the moment I checked-in at the hostel to use their free internet, I could easily have flicked a switch "ON" and connected free.

Lesson Learned: Being relatively geeky, an internet junkie and a computer-worshipper does not a clue give you. Having superior expertise in several aspects of the aforementioned doesn't prevent you from being a complete ignorant ass.

Note: So having free wireless here at the hostel is just about one of the biggest blessings I could have hoped for. I can sit here, in my bunk, hammering away as long and as often as I like. Fabuloso.

I will post a separate instalment dedicated to roomies and clueless Thai lady babysitting, etc. Plus, standby, my Day 3 instalment is gonna rock your socks off.

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Yankeeland Part 1: Dear Departed

THESE EVENTS TOOK PLACE: May 31, 2009 (AEST)

Due to my fighting spirit, I didn’t go to bed the night before my departure day until well after midnight. I persisted [we now know unnecessarily] with the faulty blog script until I spiralled into a puddle of self-doubt and self-pity and eventually very unhappily gave up on having a blog pre-flight.

All went smoothly on the morning of Sunday May 31st 2009. My inexperienced traveller nerves insisted on Jenny and Luke driving me to the airport [we now know unnecessarily] rather early. Leaving just before 9am we arrived just prior to 10am, an hour early for check-in!

Surprisingly enough my flight was queued for check-in, so we marched straight to the line, checked in quickly and efficiently and bid sayonara to my stupidly heavy luggage. For those that are interested: 1x chockfull 65L travel pack with 1x bursting at the seams detachable daypack plus 1x carry-on mini wheeled suitcase with the addition of my good old Billy Elliot canvas satchel.

Jenny was so concerned about the exploding checked luggage being over the 23kgs per piece that we decided I’d separate the detachable daypack and check it in as my second allowed piece. Well ner-ner Jen, both pieces were under 20kgs!

Such was my relief at ditching the crazy-heavy luggage and not having to remove anything to send back home with sister, that I was oblivious to the fact that I forgot to attach my padlocks. I realised this when attempting to find a comfortable sleeping position on the plane, only to crankily wonder what the uncomfortably hard bulge in my right cargo-pocket was.

Oops.

Nothing missing!

Luke, Jenny and I sat ourselves down at Starbucks for some Hocho (I’ve been waiting several long Gilmore Girls Fan Years to use that word). Funnily enough, I got a call about my car at that time!



Mama Deb joined us at 11am and we somehow wound up discussing some of my sister’s less-pleasant travel experiences, digressing to some of my sister’s less-pleasant life memories. I won’t say any more than that Jen, don’t panic. You should have Deb will be as kind in the Comments.

As I bid my three companions goodbye and walked off into The Sliding Doors Jenny decided we should take some “walking away” shots. I handed my camera across the threshold and the doors snapped shut seconds later.

Laughter all round.

This happened twice more as Jen attempted the shot.







Doofus hadn’t filled out her Little Green Form in all the excitement of Hocho and Sliding Doors. Got sent away to fill it in, much to my embarrassment.

Oh! The rigmarole of boarding a frickin’ plane. My goodness. While thoroughly aware of the 100ml carry-on limits, some last minute toiletries bags shifting resulted in my attempting to carry on my Deoderant, Face Cleanser and Face Toner bottles. Dangit. Gooooorrrr-oooorrrrne!

Needless to say, I was a stinking, leather-faced mess by the time I got around to replacing the items.

Anyhow, after opening and closing, removing and replacing, here a feel, there a grope and out the other end of the gauntlet of security, I finally arrived at my Gate.

I wondered why I was the only chum lining up at Gate 9 for Qantas Flight QF11, as if I’m not aware enough of my complete travel ignorance, something like this has to happen to me. Of course. So after sitting on my case in the Economy queue for several minutes, I felt pretty damned stupid when an “update on the delay of QF11” came over the loudspeaker.

Chum, indeed. No doubt everyone in the place thought so. Yeah, go on, have a good laugh at the image of me sitting all alone in empty queue aisles while hundreds of other people sit around comfortably in the lounge areas.

Hysterical, yes. And, yes again, I realise I’ll probably find it hilarious myself eventually.

So, alas, my flight was delayed. There were continuous collective groans whenever they updated on the delay further. Personally, it wasn’t really a big deal to me. I started on Wuthering Heights and tried to muster some sympathy for my fellow travellers with connecting flights (it never came).

While all advice cried out for a window seat, I have to declare myself thrilled with my aisle seat. Maybe it’s because I was blessed with a skinny-weight, odourless, silent neighbour, but either way, I confess myself disappointed to find no Facebook “Aisle Seats” to ‘Become A Fan’ of.

I was two rows from the back of the plane on the right side, just steps away from the back compartment where the toilets and snackbars are located. One happy camper.

Despite getting little to no real sleep as a result of my crappy Lupus-diseased joints, I didn’t mind the flight at all. I was completely stoked to watch some much-desired entertainment and enjoyed the food, drink and snacks immensely.

I was the happy viewer of “The Reader”, “Frost/Nixon”, “The Heath Ledger Story” documentary and another recently released movie that currently deserts me.

I was the satisfied consumer of Chicken Cacciatore, garden salad, fresh OJ, hot tea, chocolate chip cookies, apples, Cadbury hocho, Splice icecream, bacon and egg breakfast, fresh fruit, fresh coffee and Coca-Cola.

My only complaints are:

1) The girl sitting behind me seemed to misinterpret the “Touch Screen” as a “Jab Screen”, I felt like someone was sending me Morse Code every time she finished, started or paused her choice of entertainment.

2) The guy diagonally back across the aisle from me seemed to lack awareness of the size of his own bottom and/or the normal way to exit a seat, consequentially leaving my nose inches from his bumhole every time he got up or down (which was frequently).

Apologies if this wasn’t the most eventful blog post. I know many of you want every detail, but please don’t think that means I’m oblivious to the fact that most of you don’t.

Fear not, the interesting stuff kicks off in my Part 2 post: Arriving.

Plus, eventually I actually hope to catch up and key in my posts at the end of each day. That way I won’t forget all my hilarious jokes and fabulous anecdotes that so colour the inside world of my mind.

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