Nice way to spend a winter
It’s been sunny since I got to LA and relatively warm. Definitely in the 20s. We totally lucked out and got a beautiful red Chrysler to drive around in. It was just parked there in the “compact” section at the rental place, just waiting for me next to some other non-compact (in European terms) cars and one 2 door hatchback. I’ve wanted one of these since I first saw one and they are totally fun to drive, though I’ve been told they eat up lots of petrol, which seems to hold true. Still, I actually cheered when I saw it and being behind the wheel of the thing feels like being home.
We opted for a GPS unit, which has so far proven to be a bit of a pain in the ass, losing reception at awkward times (like when we left the rental place and needed some guidance so as to not end up in Inglewood, i.e. giant ghettoville) and sending us down motorways miles out of our way for no obvious reason.
LA drivers are far less chilled than most London drivers and some of the tactics are beginning to get on my tits. We drove around Mulholland drive today and Beverly Hills (and some random unwanted motorways) so I got some time to get used to driving my temporary baby among other road users. I used to be pretty good at combat driving (you have to, to get anywhere in Israel) so sooner or later they’ll all get their comeuppance.
We had a pizza party for Xmas and between that and my joyful rediscovery of cinnamon rolls, I think I’ve gained all the weight I’ve lost during my 2 weeks in SF. It was bound to happen.
The joy of travelling on Xmas eve
I hate Mountain View. 3 days in SF made me forget much about why I hate Mountain View. I even managed to forget the order of the 15 or so shithole stations between SF and Mountain View. When I was in SF, I was happy. Boarding the train to go on the hour and a half journey of shame to Mountain View made me somewhat intensely unhappy. This morning I woke up and washed the bedclothes I’d been sleeping on and packed and poured some more rubbish into the worm bin (the worms crawled up pretty quickly, so I guess they were pretty hungry). Then the fun started.
I decided to avoid walking the mile to the train station with my 2 heavy bags so picked up the flat phone to ring for a cab. Only apparently I’d not put it back in its base very well so it had run out of charge. Ok, not a problem, I can use my mobile (and pay like 2 quid a minute or something). Only I ring up and get Mr. Indian Call Centre. OK, so he’s based in Mountain View, but he may as well be in Mumbai. It took almost 5 minutes (tenner) to explain why I don’t have a local number to give, why there is no cross street where I am (it’s between 2 of them and fucked if I know or care about their names) and that the cab arriving in “between 15 to 20 minutes” is no good. I had actually given up and told him to forget it when he suddenly was gripped with an understanding of the english language, took my UK mobile number and said the cab will be there within 5 minutes. It actually was and the train cameand I actually got on it.
Took forever and a half as usual to get to Millbrae where I had to change to the BART to get to the airport. Missed one train, but luckily the next one was there in 5…. but left after about 15.
When I got to the airport, the real fun started, because I remembered my e ticket saying I fly out from Terminal 3 but the train said the airline I’m on leaves from Terminal 1. So I went to terminal 1. My flight wasn’t listed so I thought oh shit and went to terminal 3, where nobody knew what I was on about.
So back to terminal one, speak to the airline, who tell me I have to go to…..you guessed it, terminal 3, as the flight is operated by another airline. So off I go again and (with some effort) manage to check in and then rush through the joys of security. … and then had to board while I was writing this.
Am in LAX now waiting for my bags. The toilet door didn’t lock and kept opening, there was no paper and when I flushed the toilet overflowed and soaked my laptop bag. I kicked it out of the way before any real damage happened.
There are bastard screaming kids everywhere and trolleys cost $3
The Googleplex, strip joints and tattoos
I am staying at the hotel Tropicana again for a few days, before I head back to Mountain View, pack up and leave town.
It’s an odd little cheap hotel but it’s pretty much spotlessly clean, the rooms are bright and it doesn’t have that air of crack den-cum-homeless shelter that all the other Mission hotels seem to have. The room I am in now has a remote for the TV set, but no clothes rail. The one I was in last week had a clothes rail but no remote. The location is ace. It feels so good to be in the centre of things like a normal person. I’ve been so much happier being in town.
On Weds I had lunch at the Google complex. It was a beautiful sunny so my host, Adam and I sat in the sun, after he gave me the grand tour. The Googleplex is mad. Totally the other side of corporate from what I’m used to. Back when the Evil Empire bought the company I worked for, I got a glimpse of what it’s like to work for a shitty corporation that treats its employees like they owe it something for having employed them for the pitiful wages it gets away with paying them. Employees are expected to sell their soul and get fuck all in return. Google, on the other hand,has 17 cafes where employees can eat 3 times a day for free, plus heaps of free snacks (the ice cream freezers were a particularly nice touch), fruit smoothies and 3 gyms to work it all off. Everything is bright and sunny and they have game rooms, a swimming pool and free bicycles. People take their laptops to the cafes and do work from there when they want. They even have free washing machines for staff, which basically means that if you’re a recent graduate joining Google from out of town, you’d never leave. Who needs mom cooking and cleaning for you till you’re 40 when mother Google can do it for you? Seriously, it was like being back in Vegas at one of the nicer buffets, only this time it was FREE!
Trains trains trains fucking trains
OK, here’s why staying in Mountain View sorta sucks.
Today I wanted to go to a dance class that started at 12:15. For this, I had to be at the train station for 10:19.
There was a massive fucking spider in the bath (are there poisonous spiders in California?). It took me 5 extra minutes to remove it and then shower. I looked at the time and it was 10:10. It takes 15 minutes to walk to the train station. There is a bus that goes to SF from Palo Alto. I thought I’d walk to San Antonio shopping centre and see if they have a cab there that could take me to Palo Alto. This was a mistake. There are no cabs in suburbia. I should have rang up the local taxi place or walked over to Mountain View station where sometimes cabs hang out.
Instead I ended up walking over a mile to San Antonio and then waiting there for half an hour for the train. I hadn’t had breakfast because I’d still entertained the silly notion I might actually get to my class. I even went as far as getting off at Millbrae, which connects to BART, thinking it could get me into Mission quicker. Maybe it would have if I didn’t MISS THE BART TRAIN by 10 seconds. The doors closed as I was running towards it. Bang! Now you wait 20 minutes. I thought BART was faster than Caltrain, I was wrong. By the time I got to Mission it was practically time for the NEXT class I was taking. In hindsight, maybe it was good I didn’t do the first one cause I’d have had to run 6 big blocks in less than 15 minutes to get to the second class and the second class was Afro-Haitian dance which is apparently another term for “toughest workout you’ve ever had”.
So after that, I thought “fuck this” and booked myself into a hotel on Valencia. I’m not sure why I booked myself into a hotel there when I’m planning on ending up at the End Up, which is actually downtown but it was a hotel I’d recognised from when I was originally looking for places to stay in SF and it was like right there and not too expensive.
Then I carried on down Valencia to Black & Blue Tattoo and booked myself in for an appointment with Tiffany, who did my last tattoos. Yay.
After that I took the bus back to my fav train station: 22nd St. Which is this empty bit under a dark bridge in a place no one can hear you scream. I’d apparently missed the train by 5 minutes. I played a silly game on my phone for an hour. Yes, an hour.
I’m now in a cafe in Mountain View, across the road from the station, waiting for yet another train to take me back to SF. Nothing like taking an hour and twenty minutes long train journey, legging it down the road to a flat, throwing some stuff in a bag and some food down your throat, legging it all the way back with a bag dragging behind you and then turning a corner to see the 4th missed train of the day pulling away and heading back towards SF.
!#@@$%%#%^T%&^$&^%&
Why Muni is more fun than TFL
I’ve started riding the Muni buses everywhere. I’ve found a few that get me from the Caltrain station to the Mission and also took one downtown and back. One of the buses had an ad in it with an illustration of a big black lady in Muni uniform, whose name was apparently “Vawanda” and who’s been a bus operator since 1989. The ad told an amusing anecdote from her many years of service. Namely “that time” when a strange man came on the bus at 4am and after a few delusional turns, put his foot on the gas pedal and made them go through a few red lights before Vawanda and a fellow passenger fought him off and got him off the bus. Oh how we all laughed.
In London, the Transport for London ads make me laugh, because they actively try to discourage you from using their service (i.e they try to get you to walk and cycle places instead of taking the tube or the bus). They try to do it by going on about how much fun it is to walk and cycle and using cutsey illustrations of smiling feet and stuff. Maybe they’re going about it all wrong.
I am not sure what the point is of the SF Muni ad I saw, unless they are also trying to discourage people from using them. At least at 4am. Seems like a curious choice for advertising one’s services: telling you about a crazed lunatic endangering passengers’ lives. That’s the sort of thing you really *don’t* want people knowing about when it happens on your buses. Frankly, this seems like a much more effective way of making people think twice before getting on a bus. I mean, who wants to have to wrestle some maniac at 4am on the way home?
Lost & Found in Vegas and beyond
So, new pics from the Arizona leg of my trip are up on Flickr.
Obviously, they are all raw and untouched and totally not photoshopped to bring out the otherwise washed up colours. I am really that good, oh yeah. And all without a UV filter, too. Ahem.
So anyway, moving on…
Things I have lost on this trip so far…
Leaving London (for a while)
There’s nothing like a day of shitty London weather to make me happy I’m going off for the best part of 2 months.
Seriously, it has to be seen to be believed how crappy the weather can be in this town and how miserable and disgusting everything looks then. It rains quite hard in Israel in winter but at least you get that nice freshly wet ground smell that makes you feel all excited that the virtually neverending heatwave’s over for a little bit. People put on their woolly jumpers and wrap up like it’s some sort of Siberian winter even though it’s like 15 degrees because they want to make the most out of the illusion that they actually have *seasons*.
It’s fun.
Here you spend a couple of days wandering around in the rain and you just want to hang yourself. You kinda think it’s cute when you’re a tourist and the whole grey London day thing is a part of the whole London experience but fucking try living here and “enjoying” the “summer” we had this year and you’ll know what real depression feels like.