CALIFORNIA Dreaming APRIL 2014

CALIFORNIA DREAMING

April - May 2014

I’ve never had an inkling to visit any part of USA but alas, I took a flight to LA as my access point to Mexico and I developed a little crush on California. After a tumultuous journey from Coolangatta to Sydney to LAX without appropriate evidence of onward travel (among other things) good luck landed me in front of the cruisiest customs official on the planet. He asked all the right questions and I gave all the wrong answers but he didn't care. The guy was more interested in me being Australian than he was in my lack of documentation. Eventually he sent me on my way with a big smile and a joke about Skippy.  Thanks Skip.

Leticia at the airport shuttle stand was talking to her mate on a golf cart when I rocked up. “Oh girlfreeeen, oh no you deeden… I said paLEEZ, I said PALEEEZ, I know he’s a playaaa”. Big booty tipped to one side with one hand on the hip and the other hand waving Jerry Springer style as she ignored her radio going and customers waiting. Funniest thing ever. I caught her attention then she had me embarrassed and giggling trying to communicate with her “Oh hey there, wha choo wan? You wanna go WHEYAA? I don unnerstan you, that so funny looka choo, whats that big bag huh, you a surferrr girrrl or somethin? Oh look choo come from Or-STRAYA!? Weyaaa dyou wanna be ge’in to?” (Hermosa) “Oh *laughs* say that again”. (Hermosa Beach) “Oh girrl you got that on paper? Oh girrrl you’re goin to HeRRRRmosa beach, Herrrmosa, not HA-mosa, now I ge’ you fixed up”. I’m quite sure I had less language difficulties at Delhi airport. After a few more communication hurdles I started introducing the letter ‘R’ to my vocabulary.

Hermosa Beach Pier catches a nice sunset. I landed at LAX in the morning and checked in to a hostel overlooking this pier, I couldn’t believe my luck, what a location! It was stinking hot so I hit the surf in my rashie and POW! Smacked in the face by a wall of icy white wash.  So that’s what 58 bloody degrees Fahrenheit feels like. Mental note to learn temperature conversion (that makes about 15 celcius). I struggled through a few 30 minute surfs with sun baking intervals then went to sleep for a solid 14 hours to recover from jet lag and the rest.  I spent most of the next day sweating in surf shops trying on full length wet suits.



Here’s a shot of the Hermosa boulevard at quiet time in the morning. It’s a shame I didn’t capture the riot of crazy folk that roamed this pavement: skateboarders doing impossible tricks from toddlers to grandpas; street performers; musicians; camera crews; and endless streams of tourists.

I was so captivated by it all at first, I felt like I’d been dropped in a movie set from the moment I stepped off the plane. Americans! Everywhere! I can’t believe they really talk like that, dress like that, act like that.

Across Asia and Africa I expected to be surprised and confronted but I didn’t expect anything of the US. But holy cow, stereotypes at large. Everyone walking around being loud and American, speaking in thick American accents, wearing loud vacation clothes complete with Hawaiian shirts and visors, basketball outfits with gigantic Nike shoes… how surprisingly surprising! Who needs Hollywood when you’ve got sidewalks like this.

  I even got tangled up in the show biz for a moment! The camera crew for a beer commercial caught me exiting the surf one day and asked to film me walking up the boulevard with my board. How fun! I landed the gig by default because I was apparently the only female surfer that day. No complaints from me… I got paid in beers, how very Australian of them!

I gave in to the tourist checklist and rode up the coast when the surf went flat. What a mission, turns out those stick legs aren’t built for cycling.

I had a pretty interesting day cruising Santa Monica Pier and Venice Beach doing the tourist route but I was thoroughly ruined the next day. It was further than I realized, hotter than I expected, and I was blessed with headwind like a hurricane to ride home against at sunset.

I don’t know how to explain all the odd things I saw here… but just briefly, I witnessed an entire street performing family complete with five or six children (and background-Dad enthusiastically handclapping and biting his lower lip in complete euphoria) perform Michael Jackson’s Thriller with on the spot costume changes, dance moves and singing. It might not have survived a round of America’s Got Talent but it was bloody entertaining. The youngest child was asleep on the bench and the eldest was in his mid teens on lead vocals. Go get ‘em you crazy cats.



Me and a million other tourists enjoyed the serenity at Santa Monica. Holy guacamole. The cold water kept most people on the sand, but I can imagine it’d be mayhem trying to lifeguard this place in summer!

Speaking of lifeguards, yes they actually look like they do on Baywatch.  Ripped bodies and Hollywood smiles all round. Help me… I’m uuuuuh… drowning in your gorgeous green eyes.



My long day of riding ended in a mad dash (at snail pace) trying to make it back before dark. I plugged in some tunes and willed my little legs to keep going as all the lycra clad cyclists whizzed by me on their casual evening jaunts. I was wishing I could lasso one of them to tow me back!

I met this guy Arturio at Hermosa Beach and he took me and another girl under his wing for a few days to show us some other surf spots in the area. I don’t know what you call this truck but our boards fit nicely in the back along with his car bonnets and other miscellaneous panels. He introduced us to all the local guys at Manhattan who were impossibly friendly and welcoming, such a cool crew. They struck me as a bit of a motley carpark gang who loved life and hanging out, always saying “right on” in approval of anything anyone said. Yeah, right on!

A couple of young lads were trying to ‘shoot the pier’ and kept me entertained (and anxious). How dangerous! Haha, they were trying to surf through the pier. Thud! Tries again. Thud! I don’t know how their surfboards survived the beating let alone their little teenage bodies.

An early morning cruise with Kate and Arturio chasing hypothermia in LA waves. That skin is pink from the cold, not the heat!

I took a spin on the deadly treadly around San Diego waterways and markets. I’m still surprised how much I fell in love with this state!  I landed in LA thinking I’d catch the first bus down to Mexico but the more I saw in Cali the more I wanted to see!!! I think I’ll have to go back on my way out of the Americas at the end of this trip and spend a few months checking out some of the national parks and other surf spots further north, it was just so beautiful and all the people I met were so enthusiastic and welcoming.

A couple of fellow beer appreciators I met in San Diego kept me well entertained for a couple of days between surfs. Did the usual rounds killing time at the beach and biking around markets, hunting for fresh coffee (a rare beast in the US), and comparing ‘best of’ travel experiences. The bucket list grows longer with the more people I meet. With my surfboard and bag packed, and my only companion being a Spanish phrasebook nestled snug in my back pocket, I was ready to catch trains and buses to face the Mexican border alone (insert scary music)… Adios California!