I arrive in LA two hours and a sixteen hour flight after I leave Melbourne, which is somewhat confusing. Most people I’ve spoken with about LA are not too enthusiastic about the place, and with the grey morning sky over the sprawling city, I’m not too optimistic that my view will be different. I have very good instructions on how to get to the hostel in Hollywood and after an easy bus ride, I jump on the subway and walk a few blocks at the other end. The hostel is good – I opt for an all-female room as I figure overall women don’t snore as loudly. It is a six-bed room and has its own bathroom with shower, with additional showers in the hall. There is free coffee and tea, kitchen facilities, pancakes for breakfast and Wi-Fi. They also refund your bus and subway ticket if you are staying two nights or more. For $35 a night, that’s good value for LA.
After settling in, I start my explorations – by now in sunshine – with a wander down Hollywood Boulevard, following the stars embedded in the pavement. They go for blocks and blocks, with all the big names and a large number of smaller ones that I’ve never heard of. I walk away from the centre to start with, to try and catch a glimpse of the Hollywood sign on the hill. It was originally put up as an advertisement for a property development called Hollywood Estate, and was left there at the end of the campaign on the residents’ request. I find one street that seems to lead directly towards the sign, so I start following it, only to have it tail off quite a way off, right before the expressway, which is impossible to cross. I give up. It’s just a sign.
Being me, along the way I have my first wierdo encounter, with a young guy asking to take me for lunch and for my number. I’m proud to say I politely and firmly decline.
Walking back up Hollywood Boulevard, the main thing I notice is how tacky it all is. It reminds me of the strips of Love Hotels in Japan, where every building is themed and glows with neon signs. There are a whole lot of museums, none of which look like anything educational – the Ripley Odditorium, Move Waxworks and so on. Great if you have kids to entertain, not so good for entertaining yourself. The main landmark on the Boulevard is Hollywood and Highland, a shopping centre with a nice open courtyard in the middle and excellent views of the Hollywood sign. Next door is Grauman’s Chinese Theatre. Apart from the interesting oriental design, the front courtyard contains cement sections where big stars ranging from Judy Garland to Mel Gibson have left imprints of their feet and hands, next to their signatures. All around this area there are people dressed up as movie characters. I have no idea why as they don’t seem to be touting or selling anything.
I catch the subway back to downtown LA, starting at Pershing Square, LA’s first park. It is a now a nice modern combination of concrete, wood and grass that is filled with people soaking up the sun. Some of them are the homeless who live in the area, others are just visiting. At times it can be hard to tell the difference.
My next stop is the Bradbury Building – apparently there are tours, but I am the only person who is curious enough to enter. From the outside, the building is nothing special, but the inside is incredible. It is like an Escher painting, with staircases seemingly leading to nowhere and an atrium-style glass ceiling. It is quite stunning. The guard chats with me for a while and offers me a private tour, but unsure of what to offer as payment, I decide I’ve seen enough.
Down the road a short way is the Grand Central Market, an indoor farmer’s market with a mix of fruit and vegetable vendors and takeaway food stalls. This is when I realise the only food smell in Hollywood is French Fries. I grab a bowl of noodles to keep me going and buy some fresh fruit quite cheaply. On the other side of the road is Angel’s Way, the shortest train line in America. It looks like a funicular tram and just runs up a short, steep hill, but it’s not in operation today. Further along is the Walt Disney Concert Hall, which reminds me of an angular, steel version of the Sydney Opera House.
There is no real centre to the downtown area, but if there was, it would be El Pueblo de Los Angeles. This is the compact Mexican/Spanish district, butted up to Chinatown. It consists of a few pedestrian streets with market stalls selling Mexican tack and snacks. The oldest house in LA is here, Avila Adobe, built in 1818. The original Chinatown was moved in 1939 to make way for Union Station, which has an impressive interior, designed to encompass LA’s history. It is very grand – it was used in the film Blade Runner.
I feel I’ve done enough for my first day in America, considering the jet lag, the international date line, and the fact that I can’t remember the last time I slept. I’m in bed, eyes shut, by 8.30.
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