Friday, March 26, 2010
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
On the way to Peurto Escondido
Sometimes the standard family car just doesn´t measure up and what you really need is a prime mover to cart the shopping around in. Problem being you can´t justify the $200k you needed to front for one-correct?
I´ve got two words for you:
Dodge. Ram.
Fuck Yea.
What a name for a car. I don´t know about you but it makes me want to run a blockade somewhere in one! These guys look like pocket battleship versions of Optimus Prime. Sweet!
Anyway they are everywhere in Mexico. The locals have 15-30 year old versions which seem to run forever, carting food, passengers and bulls around the country, on the bumpiest, most gravelly, sandiest, most pothole ridden roads I´ve ever seen, over long, long distances. We write off giant yank tanks in Australia as stupid excess but here in Mexico they make good, good sense*. They are big, tough, versatile and simple to fix when they break. The only alternative I´ve seen is the Toyota Hilux which is also a cool car. These trucks are fantastic. The army uses them to cart sections of troops around in the tray. I don´t have much experience in the matter but I´m sure Mexico is one of the only places where a truck full of guys with M16´s can stop in the middle of the road and take positions...only for the cars behind them to bang on their horns hoping they´ll get out of the way.
To envisage leaving Mexico City: Think of a vineyard, with rows and rows of organised, beautiful green vines, flowering far into the distance into the hills beyond. There is a haze over the vineyard because of the pollen produced by the flowers. Now, replace the vines with small, grey brick, tin roofed slums, stretching to the horizon, to the hills (and often, halfway up them) in the distance. Change the pollen haze to a dust cloud, brown/grey in colour and dry as a Richie Benauds sense of humour. That is the vista for 40 minutes as you leave Mexico City to the South. The majority of these people do it very tough. It made me realise how they can pack over 20m people into one city.
As I made my way from Oaxaca to Puerto Escondido I got on a camionetta (minivan) which took me through the mountains and some of the most fantastic natural scenery I´ve ever seen. The driver was a short, fat, moustachio´d man who stopped the van every 60 minutes so he could buy a lollipop, or taco, or chocolate, or red bull or something of that nature. He wasn´t that concerned about his health. So I knew, when I offered him a chocolate Oreo in the mountains between Oaxaca and Puerto Escondido, that he wasn´t going to say no! He drove six hours through curving mountain passes dodging other vehicles, potholes and fallen rocks, with one hand in a packet of chips and the other swapping between the steering wheel and his two way radio.
Prior to coming to Puerto Escondido I went hiking in the mountains around Oaxaca city. I ended up at a tiny pueblo (mountain village) called Calpulalpam. Getting there took about 5 hours even though it was only about 12km from Ixtlan because I was walking with a German I´d met in Mexico City. She was pretty cool, called Carina. Since I got here I´ve met 4 Germans. 2 were studying physics, one geophysics and one specialised in...mathematics. Das Deutsch are different, but I like them, they seem very open minded and happy to try new things. And they don´t muck around with Arts degrees either by the look of it.
We hiked to the top of this tiny peublo and found a small guest house, right at the top of the mountain.
Me in front of some dirt before we got to the guesthouse-it was green for some reason in real life hence the photo...
Visions of God!
From the viewing area of the guesthouse
Beam me up!
It was a tough getting to the top but the view down the valley once we got there was very special. It was easily one of the most beautiful things I´ve ever seen. The clouds which gathered towards dusk parted slowly and let the rays of the dying sun shine through, like ghostly spotlights on the steep forested valley below...and for a moment I understood why the people around here believe in God so strongly. I began to think of all the girls I´ve ever loved...
A (very) short time later I recalled I´d been walking all day so bought a six pack, found a resturaunt and enjoyed the view while downing some frijoles (black beans) hammered carne (meat) and pan (rolled bread) with a few extra tomato´s on the side. Delicious. Jokes aside, it´s easy to become reflective when faced with the real beauty of nature.
For a hard earned thirst
*Apologies to AC/DC
I´ve got two words for you:
Dodge. Ram.
Fuck Yea.
What a name for a car. I don´t know about you but it makes me want to run a blockade somewhere in one! These guys look like pocket battleship versions of Optimus Prime. Sweet!
Anyway they are everywhere in Mexico. The locals have 15-30 year old versions which seem to run forever, carting food, passengers and bulls around the country, on the bumpiest, most gravelly, sandiest, most pothole ridden roads I´ve ever seen, over long, long distances. We write off giant yank tanks in Australia as stupid excess but here in Mexico they make good, good sense*. They are big, tough, versatile and simple to fix when they break. The only alternative I´ve seen is the Toyota Hilux which is also a cool car. These trucks are fantastic. The army uses them to cart sections of troops around in the tray. I don´t have much experience in the matter but I´m sure Mexico is one of the only places where a truck full of guys with M16´s can stop in the middle of the road and take positions...only for the cars behind them to bang on their horns hoping they´ll get out of the way.
To envisage leaving Mexico City: Think of a vineyard, with rows and rows of organised, beautiful green vines, flowering far into the distance into the hills beyond. There is a haze over the vineyard because of the pollen produced by the flowers. Now, replace the vines with small, grey brick, tin roofed slums, stretching to the horizon, to the hills (and often, halfway up them) in the distance. Change the pollen haze to a dust cloud, brown/grey in colour and dry as a Richie Benauds sense of humour. That is the vista for 40 minutes as you leave Mexico City to the South. The majority of these people do it very tough. It made me realise how they can pack over 20m people into one city.
As I made my way from Oaxaca to Puerto Escondido I got on a camionetta (minivan) which took me through the mountains and some of the most fantastic natural scenery I´ve ever seen. The driver was a short, fat, moustachio´d man who stopped the van every 60 minutes so he could buy a lollipop, or taco, or chocolate, or red bull or something of that nature. He wasn´t that concerned about his health. So I knew, when I offered him a chocolate Oreo in the mountains between Oaxaca and Puerto Escondido, that he wasn´t going to say no! He drove six hours through curving mountain passes dodging other vehicles, potholes and fallen rocks, with one hand in a packet of chips and the other swapping between the steering wheel and his two way radio.
Prior to coming to Puerto Escondido I went hiking in the mountains around Oaxaca city. I ended up at a tiny pueblo (mountain village) called Calpulalpam. Getting there took about 5 hours even though it was only about 12km from Ixtlan because I was walking with a German I´d met in Mexico City. She was pretty cool, called Carina. Since I got here I´ve met 4 Germans. 2 were studying physics, one geophysics and one specialised in...mathematics. Das Deutsch are different, but I like them, they seem very open minded and happy to try new things. And they don´t muck around with Arts degrees either by the look of it.
We hiked to the top of this tiny peublo and found a small guest house, right at the top of the mountain.
Me in front of some dirt before we got to the guesthouse-it was green for some reason in real life hence the photo...
Visions of God!
From the viewing area of the guesthouse
Beam me up!
It was a tough getting to the top but the view down the valley once we got there was very special. It was easily one of the most beautiful things I´ve ever seen. The clouds which gathered towards dusk parted slowly and let the rays of the dying sun shine through, like ghostly spotlights on the steep forested valley below...and for a moment I understood why the people around here believe in God so strongly. I began to think of all the girls I´ve ever loved...
A (very) short time later I recalled I´d been walking all day so bought a six pack, found a resturaunt and enjoyed the view while downing some frijoles (black beans) hammered carne (meat) and pan (rolled bread) with a few extra tomato´s on the side. Delicious. Jokes aside, it´s easy to become reflective when faced with the real beauty of nature.
For a hard earned thirst
*Apologies to AC/DC
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Oaxaca
A close friend of mine had some serious gut problems for a quite a while. He had to go to an ass specialist to get a faeces transplant (that's right) to sort it out. We shared a bathroom for a few years, hence my knowledge of this fact.
It´s also how I know that there's between 300 and 1000 different types of bacteria in your intestines, and one of the reasons they change ratios is affected by your diet.
The bacteria in my gut need to redeploy fast. I've been existing on a diet of street tacos and burritos (choose your type of meat-beef or churazo-they'll chop it up in front of you and then grab it by the handful to put onto a burrito or taco. There might be some onions and is always lime and chilli sauce to flavour it with. All served by a fat sweaty man cooking in his roadside burrito cart) which are delicious. I really like the street food here, it's fantastic. However, until yesterday I hadn't seen a vegetable for 10 days.
Anyway I can put down about 12 of these tacos, they really are great. My gut has no idea what to do with it all so it mushes it up and turns it all into a milkshake which it can then (and does) get rid of really fast.
This guy didn't need to eat vegetables
So after I arrived in Oaxaca I went on a mission to find some fruit and veges. Since then I've eaten (among other things) three tomato's, three bananas, 2 avocados (small), a fruit salad, a large orange juice and a large peach nectar and things feel back on track, although the chilli grasshoppers (chapulines) I ate this afternoon might change that.
Glad this didn't happen while I was there!
Of no relevance but...mo really starting to look good
Got out of Mexico City a few days ago. It felt great to be back on a bus in Latin America-reminded me of going up to Rio from Montevideo 9 years ago. The scenery on the way down (it's about 400km south east of MC) is seriously impressive-lot's of gorges, valleys, crags and cactus. The cactus line the slopes and look like those inflatable stick figures that wave around in front of used car yards. It's a beautiful place-the landscapes are huge. The plains roll on forever until they are broken sharply by huge, steep mountains rising out of the dust haze. Sometimes they have snow on top, even though it's 35C down in the valley.
This is the sort of place I would love to ride through on a motorcycle. You could never get sick of the scenery and the views. At one popint the mountain sides were flecked with a yellow sandstone that looked like gold shining through the cactus in the mid afternoon sunlight-righteous!
Before leaving MC I saw some of the sights. I took a brief tour of the Palacio Nacional (National Palace) which was an explantion of the mural that was painted there (by Diego Rivera) detailing Mexican history. This place has 500 years of history-the Spanish came and wiped out about 22m local Indians, through fighting but mostly from disease, leaving about a million.
Beautiful fountain
Then they built hundreds of beautiful, awe-inpiring cathedrals, some of which took hundreds of years to finish. They really are spectacular achievements. The Historical Centre in MC is dotted with beautiful monuments to God and that they are still standing today is a testament to their construction, especially given that the land they are standing on is sinking. (It is a dried lakebed). Some of the building are 10m below street level.
The inside of the cathedrals are stunning examples of artistic invention, application and expenditure. If you want to worship in MC, you can really do it in style! Most of the historical centre in MC is a couple of hundred years old and the buildings are solid. They could really build back then-it´s hard to see most of the stuff we have around today seeing the 25th century! (Blues Point Tower anyone??)
Fine Art Gallery
Outside the churches are a lot of pitiful beggars, old men with no arms and legs perched on trolleys, women with twisted legs clutching babies, disfigured people in dirty rags, hoping tourists will give them an offering as they leave. It is very sad and frustrating because there is nothing we can do. I wondered if they are located in this fashion so they can easily go somewhere after they clock off to pray to God and ask why He has forsaken them. Well, I'd want some answers at any rate. A few less churches and a few more universities might have been a better way to go.
I actually went to two art galleries while here, and enjoyed them. I won't be making a habit of it but they are good ways to get a sense of the history of a place. The National Gallery was really interesting and cost $3 to get in. The other place was Frida Kahlo´s house. She was a famous artist in Mexico, with a monobrow. She lived with her husband, also a famous artist, the abovementioned Diego Rivera. Anyway a few weird facts took my notice while there:
-Frida had an accident and couldn´t walk for the last few years of her life
-Trotsky the communist lived around the corner
-Apparently Frida and Trotsky tooted a few times
-Trotsky was hacked to death by a guy with an ice pick (in Mexico City where it´s never less than 30C)
Anyway the killer was never found but it seems obvious to me. Frida´s husband was naturally upset that the commie bastard was putting one through his paraplegic wife and took matters into his own hands! Of course I could be wrong, but I guess we´ll never know.
Diego Rivera was a staunch communist. He also did this mural in the Palacio Nacional. If you look closely you can see the Reds represented in the bottonm right of the quadrant. In fact, I think that's his mate Trotski in there!
To me, an art gallery is like a giant picture book, which makes them a great place to learn Spanish. If there's a painting of a young chap sitting on a wharf with a fishing rod dangled into the water, and it says "El Pescadore" I now know how to say ´the fisherman´ in Spanish-you beauty! Either that or ´dole bludger´, but I doubt it!
Proof I went to an art gallery-these are the lights on the courtyard to the National Gallery, which I thought were particularly cool
Funny thing I´ve noticed about being in a less developed country. Westerners spend all day ignoring the hell out of each other when they pass buy on the street, or give each other meaningful glares.
Then they all congregate in the same places at night and get plastered together, becoming best mates. Not sure what´s going on there but it´s fun to break down barriers...
It´s also how I know that there's between 300 and 1000 different types of bacteria in your intestines, and one of the reasons they change ratios is affected by your diet.
The bacteria in my gut need to redeploy fast. I've been existing on a diet of street tacos and burritos (choose your type of meat-beef or churazo-they'll chop it up in front of you and then grab it by the handful to put onto a burrito or taco. There might be some onions and is always lime and chilli sauce to flavour it with. All served by a fat sweaty man cooking in his roadside burrito cart) which are delicious. I really like the street food here, it's fantastic. However, until yesterday I hadn't seen a vegetable for 10 days.
Anyway I can put down about 12 of these tacos, they really are great. My gut has no idea what to do with it all so it mushes it up and turns it all into a milkshake which it can then (and does) get rid of really fast.
This guy didn't need to eat vegetables
So after I arrived in Oaxaca I went on a mission to find some fruit and veges. Since then I've eaten (among other things) three tomato's, three bananas, 2 avocados (small), a fruit salad, a large orange juice and a large peach nectar and things feel back on track, although the chilli grasshoppers (chapulines) I ate this afternoon might change that.
Glad this didn't happen while I was there!
Of no relevance but...mo really starting to look good
Got out of Mexico City a few days ago. It felt great to be back on a bus in Latin America-reminded me of going up to Rio from Montevideo 9 years ago. The scenery on the way down (it's about 400km south east of MC) is seriously impressive-lot's of gorges, valleys, crags and cactus. The cactus line the slopes and look like those inflatable stick figures that wave around in front of used car yards. It's a beautiful place-the landscapes are huge. The plains roll on forever until they are broken sharply by huge, steep mountains rising out of the dust haze. Sometimes they have snow on top, even though it's 35C down in the valley.
This is the sort of place I would love to ride through on a motorcycle. You could never get sick of the scenery and the views. At one popint the mountain sides were flecked with a yellow sandstone that looked like gold shining through the cactus in the mid afternoon sunlight-righteous!
Before leaving MC I saw some of the sights. I took a brief tour of the Palacio Nacional (National Palace) which was an explantion of the mural that was painted there (by Diego Rivera) detailing Mexican history. This place has 500 years of history-the Spanish came and wiped out about 22m local Indians, through fighting but mostly from disease, leaving about a million.
Beautiful fountain
Then they built hundreds of beautiful, awe-inpiring cathedrals, some of which took hundreds of years to finish. They really are spectacular achievements. The Historical Centre in MC is dotted with beautiful monuments to God and that they are still standing today is a testament to their construction, especially given that the land they are standing on is sinking. (It is a dried lakebed). Some of the building are 10m below street level.
The inside of the cathedrals are stunning examples of artistic invention, application and expenditure. If you want to worship in MC, you can really do it in style! Most of the historical centre in MC is a couple of hundred years old and the buildings are solid. They could really build back then-it´s hard to see most of the stuff we have around today seeing the 25th century! (Blues Point Tower anyone??)
Fine Art Gallery
Outside the churches are a lot of pitiful beggars, old men with no arms and legs perched on trolleys, women with twisted legs clutching babies, disfigured people in dirty rags, hoping tourists will give them an offering as they leave. It is very sad and frustrating because there is nothing we can do. I wondered if they are located in this fashion so they can easily go somewhere after they clock off to pray to God and ask why He has forsaken them. Well, I'd want some answers at any rate. A few less churches and a few more universities might have been a better way to go.
I actually went to two art galleries while here, and enjoyed them. I won't be making a habit of it but they are good ways to get a sense of the history of a place. The National Gallery was really interesting and cost $3 to get in. The other place was Frida Kahlo´s house. She was a famous artist in Mexico, with a monobrow. She lived with her husband, also a famous artist, the abovementioned Diego Rivera. Anyway a few weird facts took my notice while there:
-Frida had an accident and couldn´t walk for the last few years of her life
-Trotsky the communist lived around the corner
-Apparently Frida and Trotsky tooted a few times
-Trotsky was hacked to death by a guy with an ice pick (in Mexico City where it´s never less than 30C)
Anyway the killer was never found but it seems obvious to me. Frida´s husband was naturally upset that the commie bastard was putting one through his paraplegic wife and took matters into his own hands! Of course I could be wrong, but I guess we´ll never know.
Diego Rivera was a staunch communist. He also did this mural in the Palacio Nacional. If you look closely you can see the Reds represented in the bottonm right of the quadrant. In fact, I think that's his mate Trotski in there!
To me, an art gallery is like a giant picture book, which makes them a great place to learn Spanish. If there's a painting of a young chap sitting on a wharf with a fishing rod dangled into the water, and it says "El Pescadore" I now know how to say ´the fisherman´ in Spanish-you beauty! Either that or ´dole bludger´, but I doubt it!
Proof I went to an art gallery-these are the lights on the courtyard to the National Gallery, which I thought were particularly cool
Funny thing I´ve noticed about being in a less developed country. Westerners spend all day ignoring the hell out of each other when they pass buy on the street, or give each other meaningful glares.
Then they all congregate in the same places at night and get plastered together, becoming best mates. Not sure what´s going on there but it´s fun to break down barriers...
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Mexico City
Flying into Mexico City at night was beautiful. The city has 23m people in it and flying in the orange grid of glowing lights stretched to the horizon in every direction (every direction I could out of the side of the plane anyway). There are small mountains speckling the city scape which have no buildings on them so at night they contrast with the surrounding glow as jagged black shapes in the vista.
I landed and went through customs at about 2am. There was only one cab and he took me to Mexico City Hostel near El Zocalo (a giant square in the middle of the city). I was pretty excited to be using Spanish again after so many years, and I have to say my grasp at the moment is pretty utilitarian, but after a big night on the piss (last night) it's much better.
Getting to know people
A bunch of guys from the hostel went out last night and ate taco's. Around here they are pretty small, but if you eat 15 of them you will be full, trust me. Then we got on the sauce. There's a few photos of us all at a club on Tuesday night.
Me and some German guys from the hostel
It's the fashion!
One of them was a Canadian guy who had completed a degree in Literature (haha) and has been driving around in a Combi surfing for the last 6 months. He was a top bloke-anyway he and I left the club we were at and walked down the street to find something more interesting. We walked past 3 drunk guys outside this bar, who sledged us. We had a word to them back and the next thing we knew we were downstairs in this empty bar drinking shots with them.
They were a bit older-mid thirties I'd say. One had slicked back hair, a deep tan and was dressed in a white-beige suit with a pink shirt and sky blue tie on-done up fully despite the fact it was 3am. His name was Roberto. Like most of the locals he was shortish.
What a great way to learn Spanish and spread English. The conversation went something like this:
Me (in spanish): I want a drink, do you have something STRONG?
Roberto(in English): What do you drink, you Aussie bitch
Me (Spanish): I don't care, stop fucking around
Roberta (English): You liking the Tequila?
Rick (Canadian guy-in Spanish): Of course not, it is fucking horrible!
Roberto (English): Cheers-bitch!
Me: Salud!
Rick: Salud!
Roberto proceeds to not drink his shot (they are huge here by the way-about 60ml)
Me (Spanish): We are waiting for you-shit of a poofter!
Roberto (English): Hey Fuck you man! (drinks his shot)
Rick (Spanish): Suck my balls!
Roberto (English): Hey Fuck you man!
This went on in various forms for a few hours. We were drinking this red stuff out of a jug-pouring it into glasses and shotting it/ It was one third cranberry, one third vodka and one third something rancid. Anyway it's great to make friends with the locals.
This guy claimed he was in the Italian Mafia and I believe him because I want to-even though his friend thought the claim to be pretty funny. We spoke a lot about Italy because I can sometimes pretend to be from the North and he believed me and thought that was excellent.
He told me how he'd had a girlfriend from New Zealand who was "fucking crazy bitch man." What did you expect mate?? Just kidding.
The great thing about having a conversation with only 200 words at your disposal is that you never run out of things to talk about. Communicating the most basic thing can take 10 minutes. It really is a lot of fun.
I found a gym in Zona Rosa. The name sort of gives the game away-the Pink Zone but I trundled along for something to do. I met Salvador who was keen to strike up a conversation, and suggested I come for drink tomorrow night with his mates, if I didn't have anything else to do. Sweet I thought, hang out with the locals. But when he said bye he touched-no-caressed my elbow and squeezed it gently, and I swear he pouted slightly. Ever seen a short, hairy bearded fat man pout? The word is incongruous!
I landed and went through customs at about 2am. There was only one cab and he took me to Mexico City Hostel near El Zocalo (a giant square in the middle of the city). I was pretty excited to be using Spanish again after so many years, and I have to say my grasp at the moment is pretty utilitarian, but after a big night on the piss (last night) it's much better.
Getting to know people
A bunch of guys from the hostel went out last night and ate taco's. Around here they are pretty small, but if you eat 15 of them you will be full, trust me. Then we got on the sauce. There's a few photos of us all at a club on Tuesday night.
Me and some German guys from the hostel
It's the fashion!
One of them was a Canadian guy who had completed a degree in Literature (haha) and has been driving around in a Combi surfing for the last 6 months. He was a top bloke-anyway he and I left the club we were at and walked down the street to find something more interesting. We walked past 3 drunk guys outside this bar, who sledged us. We had a word to them back and the next thing we knew we were downstairs in this empty bar drinking shots with them.
They were a bit older-mid thirties I'd say. One had slicked back hair, a deep tan and was dressed in a white-beige suit with a pink shirt and sky blue tie on-done up fully despite the fact it was 3am. His name was Roberto. Like most of the locals he was shortish.
What a great way to learn Spanish and spread English. The conversation went something like this:
Me (in spanish): I want a drink, do you have something STRONG?
Roberto(in English): What do you drink, you Aussie bitch
Me (Spanish): I don't care, stop fucking around
Roberta (English): You liking the Tequila?
Rick (Canadian guy-in Spanish): Of course not, it is fucking horrible!
Roberto (English): Cheers-bitch!
Me: Salud!
Rick: Salud!
Roberto proceeds to not drink his shot (they are huge here by the way-about 60ml)
Me (Spanish): We are waiting for you-shit of a poofter!
Roberto (English): Hey Fuck you man! (drinks his shot)
Rick (Spanish): Suck my balls!
Roberto (English): Hey Fuck you man!
This went on in various forms for a few hours. We were drinking this red stuff out of a jug-pouring it into glasses and shotting it/ It was one third cranberry, one third vodka and one third something rancid. Anyway it's great to make friends with the locals.
This guy claimed he was in the Italian Mafia and I believe him because I want to-even though his friend thought the claim to be pretty funny. We spoke a lot about Italy because I can sometimes pretend to be from the North and he believed me and thought that was excellent.
He told me how he'd had a girlfriend from New Zealand who was "fucking crazy bitch man." What did you expect mate?? Just kidding.
The great thing about having a conversation with only 200 words at your disposal is that you never run out of things to talk about. Communicating the most basic thing can take 10 minutes. It really is a lot of fun.
I found a gym in Zona Rosa. The name sort of gives the game away-the Pink Zone but I trundled along for something to do. I met Salvador who was keen to strike up a conversation, and suggested I come for drink tomorrow night with his mates, if I didn't have anything else to do. Sweet I thought, hang out with the locals. But when he said bye he touched-no-caressed my elbow and squeezed it gently, and I swear he pouted slightly. Ever seen a short, hairy bearded fat man pout? The word is incongruous!
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Los Angeles
LA is a large place. In fact it's fucking huge and if you don't have a car you can forget about seeing most of it easily.
On Friday night at the hostel there was a keg party-with a cross dressing theme. Some travellers from other local hostels came and things got a bit loose. I don't know what to make of this bit of the 7 people in total (out of about 60) who bothered to cross dress
-they were all guys
-5 of them were Australian
-I was one of them
Anyway the Aussie guys were from southwest Sydney and they were top blokes. That doesn't mean I can remember any of their names though. Also at the party were some young girls from western Sydney paying for the trip by stripping their way around the US. I admire their resourcefulness. The guys put their noses to the ground and dug up some gear. Crikey bloody Jones-I thought the whole situation was more than vaguely similair to my life in Sydney. Ah welllll..!
Anyway I've never done a handstand on a keg with the hose in my mouth before but next thing you know, there I was with my skirt bunched around my armpits, upside down on top of this keg, sculling beer from the hose. I was caning it too, I swear I drank half the barrel before I ran out of breath. Some great photo's, I'm sure. The best was the tiny little Korean guy with no English who we got up there. He drank more than all of us and wouldn't have weighed in more than 60kg. And such manners-even with froth dribbling down his chin!
The club we went to afterwards was spectacular. I won't bother trying to explain it because it was just a club but suffice to say it was very large and impressive, and expensive. I blew my $40 budget in 10 minutes, on four tequilas.
Leaving LA was a nightmare. I left for the airport 4 hours before I ws due to fly, and I'm glad I did because I got sent to 3 wrong terminals (there are 7) and then the auto check in machine didn't work. With only 2 people working to assist people with problems the lines were huge. There was one Transport Security Administration person working checking passports, with another 10 or so standing around chatting to people in the lines.
Suffice to say the whole process was a ball crushing experience. It's entirely possible 9/11 was done by people who were just so pissed of with their treatment at LAX they took matters into their own hands. Ok probably not but it was unpleasant. Strange thing is that Phoenix and San Fransisco airports were great.
I think it's unfortunate that the only real judgement I have of the US is a few days in LA and three airports so I should really point out that everyone I met was very friendly and helpful and next trip to LA will entail renting a car to get the most out of it. LA isn't a backpacker friendly city but I've heard great things about other parts so will have to explore those options one day soon.
Thought it would be worthwhile seeing some of LA so I went for a walk with a Danish guy called Peter who I was dorming with. Nice guy-he was computer game developer ooh yea. We thought we'd walk form West Hollywood to Venice Beach. We got halfway there, stopping en route to see the lobby of the building at Nakatomi Plaza (it's where Die Hard was set) because Peter is a huge Bruce Willis fan. Of course it's a pretty standard skyscraper so we kept going and eventually submitted and got on the Metro which took us to the beach. It was massive-the sand is over a two hundred meters long to the water. It reminded of Scarborough in Perth but bigger-more sand and longer.
A couple of the guys staying at the hostel were struggling-for-work-actors. I thought that was a bit of a cliche, till the one I was dorming with told me he couldn't even afford to eat-what a legend! I hope he cracks it big time but I get the impression its tough out there. Secretly I'm a bit disappointed I wasn't discovered while cruising the strip in my cargo's hightops and wifebeater.
Thursday, March 4, 2010
The Strip
I landed at LAX on 3/3/10-Wednesday morning local time. Confirming every report I've heard, LAX is a shithole. It's also eerily quiet considering it's the main airport around here. Where's all the people? They weren't at the customs desk that's for sure, because only one guy was on duty and it took over an hour to pass through. That said, there were free cookies at the internet booth I used so LAX did partly redeem itself in the end.
I got a bus from the airport to Union station and got off at West Hollywood, on Sunset Strip, and walked from there to my youth hostel on Melrose and Fairfax. It took me about two hours and 4 longnecks to get there. Drinking at 11am on Wednesday morning isn't the done thing here judging by some looks I got but I didn't care much, just wanted to unwind after the flight. I saw some really bright shiny fire trucks. They are really cool around here, shiny and red with plenty of chrome, and the cabs have enough room in them for the firies to play cards on a central deck.
Credit to the the Americans. How they've managed to glamourise Sunset Strip into the international icon it's become is beyond me. It's just a dusty potholed stretch of road with some specialty shops mixed in with pharmacies, (small) shopping malls, doctors offices and clinics offering free HIV testing.
If you live in Sydney, the Strip is a cross between Oxford Street and Parramatta Road, leaning more towards Parramatta road, but without the kebab shops. So, it's definately better than Parramatta road but not as good as Falcon Street, for example. They could probably use the HIV clinics on Oxford street but for any given stretch of road Oxford St, or Darlinghurst/Victoria Road in the Cross has this place covered. Sunset is a bit longer though. It's got a better name too.
At any rate, I know why Americans love their pickups and 4wd's-all the BMW's I saw kept bottoming on the potholes and seams in the road. There's only two types of cars in Hollywood-Prius Hybrids and V8 pickup trucks...and BMW's.
You really need a car to get around. The public transport is pretty average and it's huge. There are far less train lines than in Sydney and they are shorter, so you either bus it or don't bother.
When I arrived at the youth hostel I got showed my dorm. The first thing I noticed was the V8 supercar mag on the floor next to my bed. Christ, 20,000km later and the first person I meet is another Australian. We're like the Irish, and cockroaches-everywhere!
West Hollywood is pretty spread out. I've spent hours walking around looking for different types of shops. I found a vintage shop which was like all the Vinnies I ever went to in one spot. I wanted to buy all sorts of junk but knew it couldn't fit in my backpack so had to restrain myself but there were some sexy beige ski jackets from circa 1987 that I can't stop thinking about. My little brother, who is a very fashionable young chap (err) would love them. It was really exciting. At any rate, I've bought some hiking boots, travel guides and some cold weather gear and will now limit myself to $10 a day spend (ex accomodation). Things are cheap here-I found a pair of Nike high tops for $80-I paid $200 for my pair back home.
I have to say the people around here seem to be quite friendly. Everyone you walk past says hello, and one guy said I had a "totally fresh getup dude". I assumed he was talking about the mustache I'm cultivating-it does lend me quite a sophisticated and considered demeanour. It also helps me to appeal to the Mexicans who are everywhere around here. And they are short, even shorter than me so I really like having them around because I like people who make me look tall(er).
At some point in my ancestry a rancid ginger has infiltrated my genetic heritage and it's showing up in the growth on my upper lip-crikey! Im loosing patience with the red stain but I'll give it another month, it might turn blonde which would be quite distinguished.
I must look dopey or loaded because I kept getting hit up by guys on the strip with rap CD's who wanted to sell me copies of their recording for a few dollars. One guy claimed to be the next 50cent, and he was pretty persistant so I told him my favourite arist was Michael Bolton and he left me alone.
Anyway it's Friday night and there's a free piss up at the hostel-all the beer we can drink, and wine. The notice says it's drink till you drop-I think I just might!
I got a bus from the airport to Union station and got off at West Hollywood, on Sunset Strip, and walked from there to my youth hostel on Melrose and Fairfax. It took me about two hours and 4 longnecks to get there. Drinking at 11am on Wednesday morning isn't the done thing here judging by some looks I got but I didn't care much, just wanted to unwind after the flight. I saw some really bright shiny fire trucks. They are really cool around here, shiny and red with plenty of chrome, and the cabs have enough room in them for the firies to play cards on a central deck.
Credit to the the Americans. How they've managed to glamourise Sunset Strip into the international icon it's become is beyond me. It's just a dusty potholed stretch of road with some specialty shops mixed in with pharmacies, (small) shopping malls, doctors offices and clinics offering free HIV testing.
If you live in Sydney, the Strip is a cross between Oxford Street and Parramatta Road, leaning more towards Parramatta road, but without the kebab shops. So, it's definately better than Parramatta road but not as good as Falcon Street, for example. They could probably use the HIV clinics on Oxford street but for any given stretch of road Oxford St, or Darlinghurst/Victoria Road in the Cross has this place covered. Sunset is a bit longer though. It's got a better name too.
At any rate, I know why Americans love their pickups and 4wd's-all the BMW's I saw kept bottoming on the potholes and seams in the road. There's only two types of cars in Hollywood-Prius Hybrids and V8 pickup trucks...and BMW's.
You really need a car to get around. The public transport is pretty average and it's huge. There are far less train lines than in Sydney and they are shorter, so you either bus it or don't bother.
When I arrived at the youth hostel I got showed my dorm. The first thing I noticed was the V8 supercar mag on the floor next to my bed. Christ, 20,000km later and the first person I meet is another Australian. We're like the Irish, and cockroaches-everywhere!
West Hollywood is pretty spread out. I've spent hours walking around looking for different types of shops. I found a vintage shop which was like all the Vinnies I ever went to in one spot. I wanted to buy all sorts of junk but knew it couldn't fit in my backpack so had to restrain myself but there were some sexy beige ski jackets from circa 1987 that I can't stop thinking about. My little brother, who is a very fashionable young chap (err) would love them. It was really exciting. At any rate, I've bought some hiking boots, travel guides and some cold weather gear and will now limit myself to $10 a day spend (ex accomodation). Things are cheap here-I found a pair of Nike high tops for $80-I paid $200 for my pair back home.
I have to say the people around here seem to be quite friendly. Everyone you walk past says hello, and one guy said I had a "totally fresh getup dude". I assumed he was talking about the mustache I'm cultivating-it does lend me quite a sophisticated and considered demeanour. It also helps me to appeal to the Mexicans who are everywhere around here. And they are short, even shorter than me so I really like having them around because I like people who make me look tall(er).
At some point in my ancestry a rancid ginger has infiltrated my genetic heritage and it's showing up in the growth on my upper lip-crikey! Im loosing patience with the red stain but I'll give it another month, it might turn blonde which would be quite distinguished.
I must look dopey or loaded because I kept getting hit up by guys on the strip with rap CD's who wanted to sell me copies of their recording for a few dollars. One guy claimed to be the next 50cent, and he was pretty persistant so I told him my favourite arist was Michael Bolton and he left me alone.
Anyway it's Friday night and there's a free piss up at the hostel-all the beer we can drink, and wine. The notice says it's drink till you drop-I think I just might!
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