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 2: American Arrival

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

Who ever knew it could take so impossibly long to disembark an aircraft.

Being that timekeeping is low on my list of priorities during this period of my existence (mostly because I lack any actual priorities during this period of my existence), I'm not certain of exactly how long we stood waiting laden with baggage in the aisles of QF11. I know I stood over my screen watching the [several] ending(/s) of "Changeling" sans audio (Aha! That was the other movie!), before eventually digging through my pocketless bag for at least 3 minutes and retrieving my iPod to monitor the wait time.

At least 10 more minutes ticked by. I actually mustered genuine pity for my skinny-weight, odourless, silent neighbour who broke her silence to politely ask if she could go ahead of me as she had a connecting flight... which she eventually missed.

Now granted, I haven't travelled extensively, especially not internationally, but I am almost certain that LAX has the longest plane-to-customs exit journey. I reckon I dropped a few kilos.

My adventure really began when I finally got my turn through Customs. Guess what? AussieNic is required to exit and re-enter the United States prior to September 30 or she will be considered an "overstay". Why? Because the Australian US Consulate are obviously crap. I knew the simple "RTA-like" process of that place seemed too easy.

So I purchased two Visas for my time in Yankeeland:

1) J1 Working Visa
This Visa is obligatorily arranged with Camp America. The duration is "Camp Plus 30 Days", hence expiring on September 30.

2) B2 Tourist Visa
Being that the J1 cannot be extended, to continue travelling beyond the bonus 30 days if I wish, I decided to get a B2 Visa also. I now discover that the question asked at the Consulate: "12 Months or 5 Years?" was clearly moo[t] ("moo, it's like a cow's opinion, it doesn't count")... the buggers only gave me 6 months!

Funnily enough, several people at my Orientation in Sydney freaked out when they heard they wouldn't be able to pass out and back into the States on their J1s, i.e. no trips to Canada or Mexico (baha) as J1 Visa expire the moment you exit the country. Many people asked panicked questions and stayed back after Orientation to ask more panicked questions on how they could get this extra Visa to allow Niagara Falls visits, etc.

Even if the whole "you can't work at camp and get paid unless you're here on your J1" thing wasn't a problem, the six months actually fell short of my return flight date by 3 days, i.e. yep, another "overstay"!

So basically I was screwed. I'm not a panicker, but given the very poor English and communication skills of the Manager that was called on to advise my case, I was seriously starting to sweat. Finally the cool black chick that was serving me finally interrupted her boss and said "It's simple ma'am, your only option is to come in on the J1, exit before September 30 and return on your B2. Got it? Good, *stamp, stamp*, you're done".

As I made my way over to grab a trolley and begin the long wait for my checked luggage, my small detachable daypack went sailing by in the distance. I think I gave an Asian lady nearby a terrible fright when I abruptly thrust my belongings onto my chosen trolley and took off at a full trolley-sprint. A nearby mother pulled her two small children back out of my path in terror as I flew by and hoiked my pack off the conveyor.

I almost performed a victory dance at my good luck. I didn't have time though, my luck only continued as seconds later my travel pack came into view. I was thrilled I'd waited all of 11 seconds for my luggage when I'd seen others waiting much longer while I stood in Customs for over half an hour.

LAX definitely sucks. If you thought exiting an aircraft couldn't take such an impossibly long time, you definitely wouldn't think standing in a winding queue just to exit the airport would take almost an hour either!

I most disappointed that I hadn't quite rounded what I later knew was the last corner in time to see for which celebrity a dozen flashes went off for. For those that don't know or didn't have the misfortune of hearing me geek-on about it before leaving, Sunday May 31 was the MTV Movie Awards in Los Angeles, i.e. one of the most prime celebrity-present days of the year in Tinseltown.

(And no, girls, I didn't go: See reference "No Man's Land")

There were paparazzi dotted here, there and everywhere, but I missed every single wooo-shout-flash-flash-flash. Dangit. I doubt there were any majors anyhow. For some reason I was more focussed on figuring out where the heck I was and exactly how the heck I was going to get where I needed to be.





Generally I was pretty chilled, I had no time schedule! The moment I walked out of the main doors of my terminal and cool black dude in a blue shirt said "Where you headed pretty lady?". He immediately directed me to another blue shirt clad black dude a ways away who, he informed me, would put me on a shuttle within 15 minutes.

This was about the time I started to gripe over the fact that I'd forgotten to Google "Tipping" before arriving in the World's Tipping Capital. Oops. Every time someone rendered me even the smallest service for the next 6 hours I fretted over whether I should have slid them a quick dollar.

Very stressful.

The Blue Team were true to their word. A shuttle arrived within 5 minutes, Blue Shirt Guy loaded my luggage on for me and before I knew it we were making the rounds of LAX.



Upon picking up two guys that could only be recognised as musicians as a result of their unkempt, edgy, super-cool appearance, the party really started hoppin'. Mr Silent Von Dreadlocks was the sweet, strong and silent type but Mr Loud McBighair compensated for any lack in word quota. He did nothing but talk non-stop about music, bands, music, gigs, musicians and music.

They didn't ring any famous bells for me, but seemed to have a pretty well-rounded musical history. Mr Loud cracked so many jokes during the shuttle ride I couldn't tell you how long it took, it seemed super-fast to me given their great stories and excellent quippy humour.

Mr Loud was hugely annoyed that he'd incorrectly guessed my accent to be British and then proceeded to rattle off fantastic anecdotes about auditioning for Wolfmother and being rejected for being too loud, bossy and not having big enough hair.

After regaling us with a few more stories including their recent show with Guns N Roses, the guys wrote down a list of gigs and parties upcoming and gave me their numbers upon drop-off at their home in The Valley. I learned that Sir McBigHair was actually named Muddy and Silent Bob was Dennis, bass player and drummer respectively.

It occurred to me while blogging this I should look them up and see if their special or anything. I hadn't thought as much mostly because nobody special would catch a shuttle from LAX. Roger?

But it turns out they are kinda semi-special. They're the real thing, all-out full-time musicans, with a cascade of results each in Google. Dennis Morehouse seems to to do well for himself with his very own official site and Muddy Stardust appears quite the authentic rocker.


Top right: Muddy Stardust. Bottom right: Dennis Morehouse

The guys seem to play a whole heap of different gigs, but together they're in a band called Stereo. And there you have it. Maybe I should have actually considered taking them up on a few of their offers.

It was my stop next, The Sportsmen's Lodge. It was immediately apparent on arrival that something was a'happenin' at this joint. By this point I was beginning to crash into a serious state of overtire and didn't quite give enough of a rip to join any dots. I was 90 minutes early for my 3pm check-in so they stored my luggage and gave me requested directions to a nearby supermarket.

It was at this point that I realised I was near absolutely nothing. Studio City has a bizarre kind of layout so I was in No Man's Land.

I experienced a little of what it must be like to be mentally disabled when I made my first attempt at a pedestrian crossing. There was no damn button to push and red stop hand went from solid to flashing with countdown numbers several times before I decided "Stuff it, off I go!". I later discovered I'm not retarded and that this particular intersection and crossing must be unique, normal crossings (PED XING as they're labelled) do mostly have a button and eventually flick over to a blue walking man prior to the countdown.

The supermarket was a pricey one so I passed on getting the supplies I'd been deprived of by Aussie Customs and plonked myself down in my very first American Starbucks next door.

I then ignored the fact that they said they'd need at least 20 minutes to see if my room could be occupied early and headed straight back. I was too far away from the Retard Crossing to bother in my overtired state and instead made my first attempt to cross the road. All of Luke's "look left" jokes aside, it was REALLY FRICKIN' HARD! My retard complex really set in when it took me well over 5 minutes to cross the stupid 4-lane road.

It was nodding off on the comfy sofa waiting for my room that I looked up and saw Lisa Rinna gliding past in a gaggle of entourage and fandom. I'm not too proud to admit I watched my share of Soapies in my younger days when Mum and Jenny were big fans that taped them every day and I know Lisa's name because she was my favourite. She's also just one of those Soap stars that manages to maintain an above-average profile.

Over the next 10 minutes I saw a parade of vaguely familiar faces that I couldn't name and finally joined the dots: Soap Opera Convention! So random. Lisa Rinna is seriously beautiful, by the way, you have no idea.

The wonderful service of my first-night 3-star hotel, bless them (sorry, lots of Poms at my hostel), got my room ready for me over an hour early *sigh* The relief. The room was lovely and totally worth the AU$130 for the my Jetlag Luxury.



The luxury took some time though, my sister's All-In-One Foreign Shower horror stories suddenly became very vivid and very relevant. Two phone calls to reception and one enormous Retard Complex later, I figured out how to get the water to come out of the flippin' shower rose instead of the bath tap. Blimey.

My one hour nap allowance was stretched by a few Snoozes to 2.5 hours. Dragging my butt out of that comfy bed to change out of my pajamas and go back down to the lobby to use their internet was one of the greatest struggles I've faced in a long time. With soapie stars and their fans still meandering about outside the Internet Cafe window, I discovered the joys of Meebo, touched based with my sister back home, camped on Google Maps for a substantial period of time, paid 27 bucks for the pleasure and got myself organised for my relocation to Banana Bungalow hostel on Hollywood Boulevard the next day.

A little room service, some bad TV and 12 hours of sleep later it was Day 2 in LA.

Prepare for some further Retard Antics and excellent blonde moments in Part 3.

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The Aussie has a blog for her time in Yankeeland

Finally, at long last, after chucking a serious "I can't do it, I give up" tanty at midnight before departing Australia, having limited [expensive] access to the internet at my first-night 3 Star hotel and now eventually settling in at my Specialty Lodging (i.e. dodgy) hostel with free Wi-Fi, I have completed the building of my own personal blogspot.

Despite the room service, private space, personal bathroom and several other luxuries, which do you think is coming out on top? That's right, of course a geek like me would rate free unlimited internet access over having a bellboy carry my [hefty] luggage!

As many of you know, I had some bugs in the HTML code (i.e. web page geek script stuff that controls the look and feel of a webpage) and couldn't for the life of my find and amend them. I had been altering a custom blog template downloaded at a proper template site but it failed me enormously. I don't pretend to be a web designer so I figured the failing was mine and hence my reason for not giving up until the midnight hour (literally).

Well, it turns out I'm not a major failure after all. Once I finally pulled out my laptop and got connected to the network here at the hostel after a long day out and about picking up necessities (damn 100ml carry-on limit!), I put my keen and penetrating amateur HTML skills to the test and came up trumps: using the basic Blogger code from one of their standard layouts and amending some rather tricky bits and pieces....

Voila! Here you have it: AUSSIE IN YANKEELAND!

Only a select few knew the name and concept of the blog, mainly because the tardiness of my self-imposed one-week-before-I-leave deadline got the better of my patience and I just HAD to blab to some people other than my sister who'd known for ages and my faux-mum Debbie who just thinks everything I do is spectacular.

So please check back REAL soon. Now that I have the hard yakka of the blog building itself done, it's just about to tick over midnight here in Hollywood and I've gotta be bright and sparky, front and centre for the departure of my "LA City Tour" shuttle in the mornin'.

Ooh, one final note. To calculate what my time is: add 7 hours and minus a day.

e.g. Sydney is currently 4.57pm on Tuesday 2 June. Add 7 hours and step back one day and it's 11:57pm on Monday 1 June.

Got it? Good.

Check back ASAP to hear about everything from my delayed flight to Soap Opera Conventions to my Hollywood hike (and no, there are no bush tracks in Tinseltown).

P.S. It's officially after midnight and this place is STILL hoppin'! I just heard something break and a group of people laugh.... TAXI!

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