City of angels? I think not!!!

The time had come for me to explore LA by myself, as my host had to work during the week and was no longer able to accompany me on my adventures. I was once again faced with the task of adjusting to yet another public transport system. LA bus service SUCKS. Even if the buses are running onetime, the schedule is so badly planned that I found myself spending as long as half an hour, at times, waiting for the bus I needed to transfer to. And if this was not bad enough, 90% of this time was spent declining dodgy propositions from creepy old men. 

The first came while I was waiting for the train to Long Beach, on my first day of solo exploring. It came from a hobo who looked like a slightly lighter version of Julius Malema with dreadlocks... And displayed almost the exact same level of unintelligence. I was standing in a metro station happily minding my own business while waiting for the train, when this man (who had a large furry leopard print blanket slung over his shoulder!) introduced himself to me and asked me my name. I just looked at him blankly. Again he asked my name. Again I stared blankly. He then put his hand on my arm and invited me to come sit downstairs with him. I resisted the urge to punch the black right out of him. Instead, I simply moved away, shaking my head and informing him in Afrikaans that I was waiting for the train. He stepped towards me again repeating his request for me to come and sit downstairs with him, telling me the train was going to be a while still. The sign behind his obviously empty head said the train was due in four minutes. My head was screaming a thousand insults at this tool. But again I shook just my head and repeated more vehemently in Afrikaans that I was waiting for the train. After about five repititions of this the idiot finally looks at me and says "No English?" Well give the man a freaking medal. Obviously not, dumbass. At this point I was so close to violence I had to picture bundles of fluffy puppies frolicking in fields of pretty flowers in my head to keep myself calm. He lost interest when he finally twigged on to the fact that I was not planning to go and cuddle downstairs under his porno blanket with him and moved off, most likely to hunt for some other unsuspecting victim. I have never loved Afrikaans so much in all my life. Ironically this happened on Halloween. City of angels, my ass.

The rest of the day was spent exploring Long Beach. It is about an hour and a half from LA by bus/metro system. It is also where the Queen Mary is currently sitting as a tourist attraction. I had a moment of utter movie cliché: I was at the platform for another train (not the one with the perverted retard) and the train arrived and people started pouring out of the doors. As the door in front of me opened, I looked up to see a rather large, very black lady (I mention this only because the whole reason it's funny is because she's black and it's a movie stereotype moment) pushing a pram ("stroller" pfft) with one hand, holding a little boy's hand with her other and dragging a little girl wrapped around her right leg. However, as they got to the train door Little Girl decided she was actually rather fond of the train and not ready to hop off just yet, so she quite hastily unwrapped herself from Mommy's leg and wrapped herself around the pole nearest the door. Mommy was very unimpressed by this and sort of positioned her leg behind Little Girl to push her off the train. This was unsuccessful. So she then pushed the pram all the way off the train, placed her left hand (still holding Little Boy's hand too) rather protectively on it and turned to grab Little Girl under her arm and yank her rather unceremoniously off her feet while simultaneously saying "Gitcho ass off the dayum train!" I nearly laughed out loud. It was so perfect it couldn't have been better if someone had planned and scripted the whole scene.

But by far the best part of my day was the night. I had purchased a Halloween costume the previous week and was exceptionally excited for this experience. I went into West Hollywood (the gayest place on earth) for their famous Halloween parade. It was fantastic. These people take this shit SERIOUSLY!!! The costumes ranged from "shoulda-stayed-at-home" to "friends-with-a-makeup-artist" to "give-this-person-an-Oscar". I was so impressed! And felt very under dressed. I also faced my fears without facing them... We encountered more than one evil clown (evil because they were dressed that way, not just because I'm terrified of them!) and I took a picture with more than one of them. However, I say without facing them, because I asked my friends to ask them for a photo, I backed up until I was next to them, then walked away again without ever looking at them. To this day I have not seen those pictures, although I did get a friend to put one on my Facebook profile but this proved problematic because I had to block my profile picture every time I was online! I did not think that one through too well... 

My next romantic proposition came from a creepy bald guy with some sort of indistinct European accent. He was dressed in a suit with takkies ("sneakers" pfft twice) and a cap! Who does that?! I was standing at the bus stop on Sunset Strip (I guess that may have been part of the problem, now that I think about it...) when he walked up to me. Here follows our exchange:

Creepy European guy: "May I invite you to lunch?"

Me:                              "No, thanks. I'm waiting for the bus."

Creepy European guy: "But I'm happy to invite you."

Me: (getting annoyed)  "Yes and I'm very happy to say no. Thank you."

Creepy European guy looks first surprised and then offended and stomps off.

There were so many exchanges like these I eventually lost track and stopped keeping score. But it is tiring having to politely decline requests from cab drivers who want to come back to Africa with me (I have to be polite for fear of them dropping me off in the wrong place or over charging me for the lift), randoms on the streets, buses and subways who keep trying to chat to me and a convict (Halloween costume) who asked me to be his wife. 

An American experience I really hope to avoid is that of an encounter with one of their weekly psychotic shooters in any random public place that incites their wrath. I came unbelievably close to being caught up in this whole ongoing gun saga when a shooter stormed terminal 3 at LAX mere hours before I was scheduled to fly out of that very terminal. It was a very scary moment for me. My flight was rescheduled for the following day, but even with the beefed up security and FBI standing EVERYWHERE I still kept looking over my shoulder every twenty seconds. It was an awful feeling. Anyway, the flight was to Dallas to watch the Dallas Cowboys play football at home. It was an interesting experience and I can't honestly say I enjoyed it too much. Perhaps I'm just too used to the fast pace of rugby, but to me it is ridiculous that it takes them THREE HOURS to play a sixty minute game. And most of it is spent standing around. I didn't understand all the hype, but I'm told it's an amazing game. 

After the weekend in Dallas, I caught a ride into the downtown LA fashion district with the father of the girl I was staying with. He is such a lovely man. He speaks some broken English and I speak some broken Spanish, and between us we have such great conversation (I think...) He took me to meet a friend of his at this little food truck around the corner from where he works, and bought me a Torta (Spanish food - kind of a breakfast burrito but in a roll instead of a wrap) and Spanish soda and we sat in his friend's van munching away on our unorthodox but incredibly yummy breakfast before they dropped me at the bus stop and I set about exploring the more famous areas of LA, including Beverly Hills, Rodeo Drive, Santa Monica and Venice Beach. I don't think I have ever seen more flashy cars in a shorter period of time or a smaller radius than I did on Rodeo Drive. It is a street that only runs for two blocks and yet I saw the swankiest most expensive cars I have ever laid eyes on parked casually along the street. My eyes almost couldn't cope :-) I also popped into the Beverly Wilshire hotel (sadly sans Julia Roberts) and basked in its snooty glow for a few minutes. The way the lady at the front desk talked made me giggle to myself. It's the way people talk when they rip off a REALLY brainless bimbo. I'm guessing you really had to hear it to enjoy it like I did. I was really hoping that Rodeo Drive would be my celebrity jackpot but sadly it turns out that unless you're a maniacal paparazzo, spotting celebrities is about as easy as finding a unicorn in Kruger park. It was a sad realisation for me... 

Santa Monica pier was another highlight for me. It's the one used in all the movies with the Ferris wheel and permanent fair setup. It was so beautiful and the beach was so stunning (no waves though! Very odd) and I ended up being there at just the right time because the sunset was magnificent. I took my shoes off and frolicked happily in the sand, took some lovely pictures and then hopped on the bus back to downtown LA. A downside to these public buses is the fact that they are always approximately the temperature of your average fridge. It becomes unpleasant after about five minutes, no matter the temperature outside. Most of the time I distract myself by watching the bunch of oddities riding the bus with me. It really is the biggest fruit salad of humans I have ever come across. 

The night before I left, I excitedly shared my San Francisco plans with my host. Top of the list was to go and see the Charmed house (from my favourite series - Charmed - which is set in San Francisco). To my horror she informed me that the house was actually in LA. Every day I am shocked further by the extent to which Hollywood lies to us. It is soul crushing. So the morning that I left was a crazy mad rush for me to get to this damn house before racing for my midday bus to San Francisco. I went, I saw, I was ecstatic :-) it is something I have wanted to see ever since I first knew it was not just a set. But overall I think my favourite part of LA was definitely Santa Monica... The laid back, marketplace atmosphere in the streets along the beachfront, the beauty of the pier and the stunning surrounding views were so relaxing and just such a lovely contrast from the extreme city feel of everywhere else. 

Next update: San Francisco! 

Stay classy c",)

Viva Las Vegas!

Wow I have really fallen behind. I do apologise, my access to internet has been very limited lately. I will do my best to catch you up on all my adventures! Another uncomfortably early start... I had a 6:30am bus to catch... to Vegas! My excitement and anticipation very much made up for the fact that my eyes physically could not even open properly yet. I have no idea what to expect... But it's Vegas! I don't care :)

Other than a very brief sighting of a Bugatti on the highway, and the fact that all the cars were on the wrong side of the road, I may as well have been driving through the Karoo to Cape Town! It was incredibly similar! The drive was long and boring and I spent most of it in a half-awake, half-asleep daze staring blankly at the road. I may have slept a few times, it's hard to say. I felt the now all-too-familiar thrill of adventure rush through me at the sight of the Vegas skyline in the distance. That sight really is as cool as they make it look in the movies :-) 

The bus stopped at the airport which was about an hour away from where I wanted to be. I have learned a very valuable lesson about time in my travels... NEVER be in a hurry if you are using public transport in America. You WON'T get anywhere any quicker and you WILL end up with a headache and a bad mood to boot. (Stash that gem of knowledge for future use. You'll thank me someday.) Also, google is your friend! In particular, google maps is your BEST friend. Omnipotent, all-seeing, all-knowing google maps. You'll not want for anything except a cellphone charger... Because every time you MOST need google maps to hold your hand, your phone gives you a giant finger and the battery dies at supersonic speed while you stand in the empty bus station at 1:13am staring disbelievingly at the screen as if it will magically turn on again and, when it doesn't (because hey, reality...) wondering how the heck you're getting home (or back to couch) now! Anyway, I digress...

Luckily my phone did not die on this occasion as it had been charging the whole way to Vegas (awesome thing about American buses: most of them have wifi and plugs!) so google maps showed me the way, I hopped on the designated bus and off I went. On the bus I got chatting to some professional dancers who had just flown in from LA to dance at a club on the strip that weekend. They invited me to go and watch their performance. I itially Isaid yes, but after listening to them talk among themselves I got the sense that it was the kind of dancing that didn't require much of a costume department... I decided I'd rather not stare at naked strangers. I got off at the stop that was supposedly less than 100m from my hostel (it wasn't!) and started walking towards where my hostel was supposedly located (it was!). Imagine my trepidation as a large metal container (like the ones on the massive cargo ships that get blown up in cool action movies) comes into view with my hostel's name flapping on the one side in the form of a crudely painted bed sheet. Luckily, this box of certain death was not my hostel. It served as a sign behind the hostel because its entrance was on the other side of the block. I would have done a happy dance if my bag had not been slowly crushing my spine one vertebra at a time. The hostel was very rustic and quaint but I loved it. Not least of all because it was surrounded by everything that epitomises Vegas... A tattoo parlour, a wedding chapel, a sex store and a strip club. All that was missing was a casino. I have never felt classier.

I dropped off my bag in my room, changed into my summer clothes (which were still too warm!) and headed off to explore the strip. I saw EVERYTHING Vegas as shown in the movies. The weird outfits, the weird humans, the weird non-humans, the shiny buildings, the billions of movie characters wandering the strip, an unbelievable number of bail bonds and pawn stores (including the famous one from History Channel's Pawn Stars) all overflowing with business at every hour of the day and night, the countless ladies of the night and their "business partners" doing their thing as inconspicuously as they can (not inconspicuous enough, obviaas), the hordes of drunken tools stumbling around with long plastic tubes hanging from a type of lanyard around their necks from which they slurped up copious amounts of alcohol feeling so emboldened in there inebriated state that they bravely and loudly challenged the bus drivers who dared to tell them that no food and drinks can be brought onto the bus, not even allowing the cops to deter their righteous anger. It was ALL there. Vegas is just a massive bustling hub of clichés. I, however, took the road less traveled by and that made all the difference. 

Friday was spent exceedingly well, methinks. I took a trip out to a BIIIIIIIIIIIG hole in the ground (I feel like whoever named the one in Kimberley needs to reassess their definition of big). It was a very long bus trip, but it was very very worth it! First stop of the tour was Sector 7! (For you old folks, that's Hoover Dam :-P) which is a really awesome sight indeed. We then stopped along Route 66 and got our kicks... er... pics there (lolsies!) before moving along to... LE GRAND CANYON! Breath taking. Spectacular. Marvelous. Phenomenal. Fantastique! There are not enough words in all the world and definitely no pictures or films that can do THIS big hole any justice. It is simply just too awesome. I managed to acquaint myself with two lovely British fellas from my tour bus - a father and son celebrating Dad's 60th and Son's 40th. I convinced them that even though I had become quite adept at the art of selfies, the Grand Canyon was simply too large for these to be of any effect and I guess they took pity on me and allowed me to tag along. And as a result I got the most brilliant pictures! I could not have dreamed up better ones! The three of us sat and had a beer at the pub afterwards before heading back to the bus and they asked me some questions about home and if we had any unique foods. I excitedly said "Yes! My favourite is biltong!" and before I even had a chance to explain any further as to what biltong was, Son looked at me and, in all seriousness, informed me that biltong "sounds like something out of Star Wars." I was finished. :-)

I spent the remainder of the weekend at a fantastic festival called Life Is Beautiful. It was a celebration of music, art and food and took up about six blocks of downtown Vegas. There were many bands playing there that I love (best being the Killers!!!) and they were just AMAZING!!!!!! I wanted to freeze time and loop it so that the concert would never end. I spent the weekend in a state of blissful happy shared with a new friend I made at the hostel who was also attending the festival. Although, I'm almost positive that some of the blissful happy must be attributed to the very strong and very frequent clouds of marijuana smoke that wafted past my face. 

On Monday, I sadly packed my bags and hopped on the bus back to LA. Every leaving is laced with a bittersweet feeling. The sadness at saying goodbye but the excitement for the next adventure. I had another typically American experience just outside of LA when I looked out my window and saw a UFO! It was a very weird light floating in the sky. It moved in funny motions and did not seem to have a particular shape that I could see. I decided not to look at it for too long in case it turned out to be something boring like the reflection of a light on the window. I felt far more excited about the idea of aliens. 

I have really struggled with how racially sensitive Americans are (Trevor Noah was so right!). In fact, I find them so overly sensitive that it's offensive. My host (as previously mentioned) is Spanish. She was driving me and a friend of hers back to her house and commenting on how utterly exhausted she was, saying that she was practically a driving zombie. She made some rather poor driving moves and her friend started joking that we were going to die. I laughed and said it would be very ironic to have survived 24 years in Africa just to come to America and be killed by a Mexican. Apparently I was the only one that got the joke.

Well, this is it for now... Stay tuned for scenes from the next episode. Lolsies! Only keeding. I shall write again, tomorrow. 

Stay classy! c",)