Lost Angels, CA
North American summer, some time mid year, 2011.
Aside from a couple of cities in Asia, my first major exhibition to the northern hemisphere was to the United States and Canada, landing mid June into Los Angeles - with a flight out of New York some 89 days later.
How to get from A to B.. not sure!
Fortunately, some of these common folk previously spoken about I had met during my time in Melbourne were scattered across the promised land, from Santa Monica, through to Portland, Vancouver, Toronto, New York City.
Knowing they were there at hand if needed, and me slingshotting myself abroad with a very poorly done budget, I found myself sticking about in LA for near on a solid month.
Venice Beach was my adopted home - 25 Windward Avenue, right beneath the famous Venice Sign, a stones throw from the skate park, and the Pacific Ocean front walk.
I found myself doing a bit of work for my accommodation, which was lovely (it wasn’t really), but a couple of hours graft a day titled you a discount and a right to stay a bit longer. Yard work, cleaning the bar, collecting bedding post check out.
It was there, amongst the chaos of Venice - “ghetto by the sea”, I rubbed shoulders with many interesting folk.
I came across proper drug deals down Zepher Ct, very literally outside our bedroom window, multiple homeless characters littered everywhere, Jim Morrisons described beautiful LA Women at every blink, amongst everyone else.
It was around the time of Burning Man Festival, so the hostel I was at was busy. Drinks down on the beach at sunset, these Russian brothers I had met, somehow got ahold of some of the most craziest marajuana. Mexican girls had incredible tequila, the british on site knew how to talk their way around a pint.
2 minute walk from Windward was the beach front stalls. I soon learnt, hit them at sunset, its near on 80% of food. The pizza may have been sitting there most of the day, but they would sooner make a couple of bucks of you than turf it into the bin.
The dudes selling rap cd’s on the boardwalk soon left you alone, I found myself wearing a counterfeit Dodgers cap just to blend in.
The street sweepers would tilt their hats as you stroll past, people setting up stalls would say good morning, the early bird baristas knew of you, and I thought I was the only one who knew how to break into the hostel after a long night at the beach.. drinking, singing, laughing until the sun rose over the Hollywood Hills.
I am quite the one of community, becoming familiar with the area of the world you may be in. Embracing the people, style of drink or the way the food ordered.
Venice made me forget I was backpacking for a hot minute, and unknowingly took me in as one of their own.
Much love to the place, and the people I met.
LA, one of a kind, no wonder the RHCP can’t stop singing about it.
More of the American summer trip to come, I will find the Hollywood archives folder at some point, for now I will check on out.
Be well
SBG
