Musings on LA - OT

As I make the arrangements for our Alaska cruise I am reminded of our
first trip overseas and in particular our stay in LA.
We stayed at Santa Monica on the way home from that trip as I wanted to
attend a writers' conference held there.

I have never forgotten our trip to downtown LA by bus. From memory, we
caught a bus that said Sunset Boulevard on the front. Then our troubles
began. The bus driver hated us on sight. We didn't have the right
change and he slapped his hand on a box by his seat and snarled at us.
We couldn't understand what he said and desperately shuffled through
handfuls of alien coins trying to please him. I guess we looked a bit
odd. We hadn't learned to dress like the locals
(something a traveller should always do when he/she goes away)
I think I was wearing a sun-frock, unheard of in those days in LA and
John a sports jacket. We also spoke with a funny accent and people
sometimes had trouble understanding us (and we them).

The bus seemed to be travelling all day, people got on and off every two
minutes and we slowly began to realise the length of Sunset
Boulevarde. What seemed like hours later we thought we might be in
downtown LA so got off. Big mistake. We didn't have a clue where we
were and badly wanted to use a toilet.

We wandered along, being eyed by a lot of seedy characters and found a
garage with a toilet attached. It was locked, tighter than a tomb.
We found the owner, a Mexican man and asked if we could use it. He
smiled at us and said in impeccable upper class English. "I am so
sorry, I do not speak English".

We got on another bus and travelled on, we knew not where.
Got off again and finally decided that Americans did not have public
toilets. We finally found a bar - whew!!! We got a taxi back to Santa
Monica.

When we left LA we got a taxi to the International airport.
A downy-faced youth appeared in a car that looked as if it had been used
in the Demolition Derby. He would never have got a Warrant of Fitness
in New Zealand. He put our cases in the boot (trunk in the US) and I
noticed that there was no handle on the boot. "I hope you can get that
open again" I murmured uneasily. He patted me on the shoulder
soothingly.

At the airport the boot wouldn't open even with the bit of wire he kept
for a key. Half an hour passed, three quarters of an hour, we were
getting nervous, were we going to miss the plane. Finally he kicked
the thing in frustration and presto!!

This will be our fourth trip to the US. Except for the surly bus
driver people there were unfailingly polite and nice to us when we
stumbled around wanting advice and directions. We will be in LA on the
28th, 29th, 30th and 31st of August and staying in Burbank with my
cousin. Later I will post her addy and phone number if anyone wants to
get in touch with us, or visit.

Bev

-
I got rid of my husband. The cat was allergic.

"Bev" wrote
I guess we looked a bit
odd. We hadn't learned to dress like the locals
(something a traveller should always do when he/she goes away)
I think I was wearing a sun-frock, unheard of in those days in LA and
John a sports jacket. We also spoke with a funny accent and people
sometimes had trouble understanding us (and we them).


That's quite an American idea - and part of the mentality that
has middle aged and elderly Americans turning up in Scotland
in five different tartans at once, with a long beige mac over the
top, in the mistaken belief that this is how the *locals* dress.

Try to dress like a "local" based on the knowledge you
glean from abroad (especially movies from Hollywood g)
and you *will* stand out here! No, our men don't wear kilts
every day, and our women are as likely to be dressed in
the latest from Paris or Milan as any NYCer (and certainly
NOT dressed in homespun and shawls g)

I had one friend visit me from Southern California. A
woman in her late 60s. She was dressed sensibly for
travelling (which she was doing a LOT of on that trip)
with black "jean" pants and sweaters (with thermals
underneath - it was March and she was *frozen* in
the Scots spring g). As I showed her around town
she suddenly froze, gazing at all the other women of
her age group on the bus and was horrified to realise
that not a single one of them was wearing jeans, and
in fact very few were wearing trousers. "But I wanted
to fit in! I bought black ones so they didn't look so much
like American jeans," she protested "they'll know I'm a
foreigner" (as a matter of fact, the younger women were
all wearing jeans, but women in their 60s prefer to dress
in the style they grew up with - in this case, smart little
skirt suits)

"They'll know that the minute you open your mouth
to speak, or fumble with unfamiliar money," I told
her, "and if these women were on vacation, they
too would be wearing...... well, slacks at any rate,
if not necessarily jeans. (although your typical
Scot on vacation goes somewhere warm - by our
standards - and doesn't want to wear anything
heavier than a sundress, or bikini cover up!)


--
Jette Goldie

Apache and Dakota
http://www.jette.pwp.blueyonder.co.uk/kitties.html

On Thu, 01 Apr 2004 08:11:37 +1200, Bev yodeled:


We got on another bus and travelled on, we knew not where.
Got off again and finally decided that Americans did not have public
toilets. We finally found a bar - whew!!! We got a taxi back to Santa
Monica.

It's true-- Americans DON'T have public toilets. It's a major
weakness in American urban planning. But in LA, they don't expect
anyone to ever get out of their cars.




Theresa
alt.tv.frasier FAQ: http://www.im-listening.net/FAQ/

Single-mindedness is all very well in cows or baboons; in an animal
claiming to belong to the same species as Shakespeare it is simply disgraceful.
(Aldous Huxley)

"Jette Goldie" wrote in message
...

"Bev" wrote
I guess we looked a bit
odd. We hadn't learned to dress like the locals
(something a traveller should always do when he/she goes away)
I think I was wearing a sun-frock, unheard of in those days in LA
and
John a sports jacket. We also spoke with a funny accent and people
sometimes had trouble understanding us (and we them).


That's quite an American idea - and part of the mentality that
has middle aged and elderly Americans turning up in Scotland
in five different tartans at once, with a long beige mac over the
top, in the mistaken belief that this is how the *locals* dress.

Try to dress like a "local" based on the knowledge you
glean from abroad (especially movies from Hollywood g)
and you *will* stand out here! No, our men don't wear kilts
every day, and our women are as likely to be dressed in
the latest from Paris or Milan as any NYCer (and certainly
NOT dressed in homespun and shawls g)

I had one friend visit me from Southern California. A
woman in her late 60s. She was dressed sensibly for
travelling (which she was doing a LOT of on that trip)
with black "jean" pants and sweaters (with thermals
underneath - it was March and she was *frozen* in
the Scots spring g). As I showed her around town
she suddenly froze, gazing at all the other women of
her age group on the bus and was horrified to realise
that not a single one of them was wearing jeans, and
in fact very few were wearing trousers. "But I wanted
to fit in! I bought black ones so they didn't look so much
like American jeans," she protested "they'll know I'm a
foreigner" (as a matter of fact, the younger women were
all wearing jeans, but women in their 60s prefer to dress
in the style they grew up with - in this case, smart little
skirt suits)

"They'll know that the minute you open your mouth
to speak, or fumble with unfamiliar money," I told
her, "and if these women were on vacation, they
too would be wearing...... well, slacks at any rate,
if not necessarily jeans. (although your typical
Scot on vacation goes somewhere warm - by our
standards - and doesn't want to wear anything
heavier than a sundress, or bikini cover up!)


--
Jette Goldie

Apache and Dakota
http://www.jette.pwp.blueyonder.co.uk/kitties.html

Actually, it's hard to look out of place in Los Angeles, no matter what
you wear. Remember, it's very close to Hollywood. ;-)

My suggestion is to wear something comfortable. In August, that almost
definitely means something cool. It's true, we don't see many
sundresses here, but many people wear shorts (including quite a few who
shouldn't G), and jeans, slacks, and light dresses are all
commonplace.

I wear jeans most of the time, and slacks almost always to dress up.
Some women always wear dresses.

BTW, if you're leaving or going to the airport, a shuttle is much
cheaper than a taxi. It may take a little longer to get you there,
which could be important, but if you aren't in a hurry, it can save you
some money.

Joy

Back in 1997 I spent a week with my brother in Sacramento, CA, and then a
week with a friend in LA. My friend lived 1 block south of Sunset (she
actually lived on Holloway at the time). I strolled up & down several times
that week, always crossing at a light (few & far between at that point), and
one time decided to cross over & head back to her place in between those
rare lights. There was a cross walk there (I might add that this was at the
bottom of a huge hill), so I decided to wait for a break in traffic to
cross. A gentleman joined me in the wait (though we didn't speak), and
after a couple of minutes, ALL FOUR LANES (2 lanes in either direction) OF
TRAFFIC ****STOPPED**** to let ****2**** people cross the street!!!!! I was
flabbergasted/stunned/shocked!!!! Here in Bloomington (with the Indiana
University campus nearby) even if you cross at a cross-walk, stop light or
stop sign or not, you're risking it!!!!

Also, when I arrived in LA, I took a cab to meet my friend in the office
building where she worked (it was staffed by MGM employees at the time, but
was not near the studios - I think it was mostly accountants, lawyers &
advertising), the cabbie (besides barely speaking English) 1) gave me too
much change and 2) carried my luggage half way around the building to the
entrance. When I got inside the building, I was getting ready to take said
luggage onto the elevators to go to the 14th floor, someone else, a nice
guy, grabbed my suitcase & DID NOT try to run of with it but actually HELPED
me on & off the elevator (even though he was going to a different floor),
and I didn't even ask!!!! A total stranger!!!

Not ALL people in LA are creeps, gangsters or thugs.
--
The ONE and ONLY
lefthanded-pathetic-paranoid-psychotic-sarcastic-wiseass-ditzy former-blonde
in Bloomington! (And proud of it, too)©
http://www.geocities.com/the_magic_mood_jeep/
http://community.webshots.com/user/mgcmdjeep


"Bev" wrote in message
...
As I make the arrangements for our Alaska cruise I am reminded of our
first trip overseas and in particular our stay in LA.
We stayed at Santa Monica on the way home from that trip as I wanted to
attend a writers' conference held there.

I have never forgotten our trip to downtown LA by bus. From memory, we
caught a bus that said Sunset Boulevard on the front. Then our troubles
began. The bus driver hated us on sight. We didn't have the right
change and he slapped his hand on a box by his seat and snarled at us.
We couldn't understand what he said and desperately shuffled through
handfuls of alien coins trying to please him. I guess we looked a bit
odd. We hadn't learned to dress like the locals
(something a traveller should always do when he/she goes away)
I think I was wearing a sun-frock, unheard of in those days in LA and
John a sports jacket. We also spoke with a funny accent and people
sometimes had trouble understanding us (and we them).

The bus seemed to be travelling all day, people got on and off every two
minutes and we slowly began to realise the length of Sunset
Boulevarde. What seemed like hours later we thought we might be in
downtown LA so got off. Big mistake. We didn't have a clue where we
were and badly wanted to use a toilet.

We wandered along, being eyed by a lot of seedy characters and found a
garage with a toilet attached. It was locked, tighter than a tomb.
We found the owner, a Mexican man and asked if we could use it. He
smiled at us and said in impeccable upper class English. "I am so
sorry, I do not speak English".

We got on another bus and travelled on, we knew not where.
Got off again and finally decided that Americans did not have public
toilets. We finally found a bar - whew!!! We got a taxi back to Santa
Monica.

When we left LA we got a taxi to the International airport.
A downy-faced youth appeared in a car that looked as if it had been used
in the Demolition Derby. He would never have got a Warrant of Fitness
in New Zealand. He put our cases in the boot (trunk in the US) and I
noticed that there was no handle on the boot. "I hope you can get that
open again" I murmured uneasily. He patted me on the shoulder
soothingly.

At the airport the boot wouldn't open even with the bit of wire he kept
for a key. Half an hour passed, three quarters of an hour, we were
getting nervous, were we going to miss the plane. Finally he kicked
the thing in frustration and presto!!

This will be our fourth trip to the US. Except for the surly bus
driver people there were unfailingly polite and nice to us when we
stumbled around wanting advice and directions. We will be in LA on the
28th, 29th, 30th and 31st of August and staying in Burbank with my
cousin. Later I will post her addy and phone number if anyone wants to
get in touch with us, or visit.

Bev

-
I got rid of my husband. The cat was allergic.

Jette Goldie wrote:

"Bev" wrote
I guess we looked a bit
odd. We hadn't learned to dress like the locals
(something a traveller should always do when he/she goes away)
I think I was wearing a sun-frock, unheard of in those days in LA and
John a sports jacket. We also spoke with a funny accent and people
sometimes had trouble understanding us (and we them).


That's quite an American idea - and part of the mentality that
has middle aged and elderly Americans turning up in Scotland
in five different tartans at once, with a long beige mac over the
top, in the mistaken belief that this is how the *locals* dress.

Try to dress like a "local" based on the knowledge you
glean from abroad (especially movies from Hollywood g)
and you *will* stand out here! No, our men don't wear kilts
every day, and our women are as likely to be dressed in
the latest from Paris or Milan as any NYCer (and certainly
NOT dressed in homespun and shawls g)

I had one friend visit me from Southern California. A
woman in her late 60s. She was dressed sensibly for
travelling (which she was doing a LOT of on that trip)
with black "jean" pants and sweaters (with thermals
underneath - it was March and she was *frozen* in
the Scots spring g). As I showed her around town
she suddenly froze, gazing at all the other women of
her age group on the bus and was horrified to realise
that not a single one of them was wearing jeans, and
in fact very few were wearing trousers. "But I wanted
to fit in! I bought black ones so they didn't look so much
like American jeans," she protested "they'll know I'm a
foreigner" (as a matter of fact, the younger women were
all wearing jeans, but women in their 60s prefer to dress
in the style they grew up with - in this case, smart little
skirt suits)

"They'll know that the minute you open your mouth
to speak, or fumble with unfamiliar money," I told
her, "and if these women were on vacation, they
too would be wearing...... well, slacks at any rate,
if not necessarily jeans. (although your typical
Scot on vacation goes somewhere warm - by our
standards - and doesn't want to wear anything
heavier than a sundress, or bikini cover up!)

--
Jette Goldie

Apache and Dakota
http://www.jette.pwp.blueyonder.co.uk/kitties.html

We never try to dress in the garb of a particular country i.e. kilts in
Scotland. Simplicity and comfort is the thing and lightweight
clothing. I usually wear slacks, light washable tops, take no jewellery
and few shoes. When newly married American cousins visited us here
(they live in Colorado) I couldn't believe the stuff they bought with
them. They had huge boots for tramping, complete outfits for going to
church and heaps and heaps of clothes. They even had an iron and a
huge bible that they took to church - they admitted later that they took
far too much. I think a first trip away is always an experiment and we
are much wiser now.

Bev
--
I got rid of my husband. The cat was allergic.

"Magic Mood Jeep©" wrote:

Back in 1997 I spent a week with my brother in Sacramento, CA, and then a
week with a friend in LA. My friend lived 1 block south of Sunset (she
actually lived on Holloway at the time). I strolled up & down several times
that week, always crossing at a light (few & far between at that point), and
one time decided to cross over & head back to her place in between those
rare lights. There was a cross walk there (I might add that this was at the
bottom of a huge hill), so I decided to wait for a break in traffic to
cross. A gentleman joined me in the wait (though we didn't speak), and
after a couple of minutes, ALL FOUR LANES (2 lanes in either direction) OF
TRAFFIC ****STOPPED**** to let ****2**** people cross the street!!!!! I was
flabbergasted/stunned/shocked!!!! Here in Bloomington (with the Indiana
University campus nearby) even if you cross at a cross-walk, stop light or
stop sign or not, you're risking it!!!!

Also, when I arrived in LA, I took a cab to meet my friend in the office
building where she worked (it was staffed by MGM employees at the time, but
was not near the studios - I think it was mostly accountants, lawyers &
advertising), the cabbie (besides barely speaking English) 1) gave me too
much change and 2) carried my luggage half way around the building to the
entrance. When I got inside the building, I was getting ready to take said
luggage onto the elevators to go to the 14th floor, someone else, a nice
guy, grabbed my suitcase & DID NOT try to run of with it but actually HELPED
me on & off the elevator (even though he was going to a different floor),
and I didn't even ask!!!! A total stranger!!!

Not ALL people in LA are creeps, gangsters or thugs.
--
The ONE and ONLY
lefthanded-pathetic-paranoid-psychotic-sarcastic-wiseass-ditzy former-blonde
in Bloomington! (And proud of it, too)©
http://www.geocities.com/the_magic_mood_jeep/
http://community.webshots.com/user/mgcmdjeep

"Bev" wrote in message
...
As I make the arrangements for our Alaska cruise I am reminded of our
first trip overseas and in particular our stay in LA.
We stayed at Santa Monica on the way home from that trip as I wanted to
attend a writers' conference held there.

I have never forgotten our trip to downtown LA by bus. From memory, we
caught a bus that said Sunset Boulevard on the front. Then our troubles
began. The bus driver hated us on sight. We didn't have the right
change and he slapped his hand on a box by his seat and snarled at us.
We couldn't understand what he said and desperately shuffled through
handfuls of alien coins trying to please him. I guess we looked a bit
odd. We hadn't learned to dress like the locals
(something a traveller should always do when he/she goes away)
I think I was wearing a sun-frock, unheard of in those days in LA and
John a sports jacket. We also spoke with a funny accent and people
sometimes had trouble understanding us (and we them).

The bus seemed to be travelling all day, people got on and off every two
minutes and we slowly began to realise the length of Sunset
Boulevarde. What seemed like hours later we thought we might be in
downtown LA so got off. Big mistake. We didn't have a clue where we
were and badly wanted to use a toilet.

We wandered along, being eyed by a lot of seedy characters and found a
garage with a toilet attached. It was locked, tighter than a tomb.
We found the owner, a Mexican man and asked if we could use it. He
smiled at us and said in impeccable upper class English. "I am so
sorry, I do not speak English".

We got on another bus and travelled on, we knew not where.
Got off again and finally decided that Americans did not have public
toilets. We finally found a bar - whew!!! We got a taxi back to Santa
Monica.

When we left LA we got a taxi to the International airport.
A downy-faced youth appeared in a car that looked as if it had been used
in the Demolition Derby. He would never have got a Warrant of Fitness
in New Zealand. He put our cases in the boot (trunk in the US) and I
noticed that there was no handle on the boot. "I hope you can get that
open again" I murmured uneasily. He patted me on the shoulder
soothingly.

At the airport the boot wouldn't open even with the bit of wire he kept
for a key. Half an hour passed, three quarters of an hour, we were
getting nervous, were we going to miss the plane. Finally he kicked
the thing in frustration and presto!!

This will be our fourth trip to the US. Except for the surly bus
driver people there were unfailingly polite and nice to us when we
stumbled around wanting advice and directions. We will be in LA on the
28th, 29th, 30th and 31st of August and staying in Burbank with my
cousin. Later I will post her addy and phone number if anyone wants to
get in touch with us, or visit.

Bev

-
I got rid of my husband. The cat was allergic.

It's interesting reading experiences people have in LA. BTW I only met
one creep there, that bus driver who was probably having a bad hair day,
lol. It's a vast, exciting city and I can't wait to get back

Bev
--
I got rid of my husband. The cat was allergic.

Maybe that's why the floorboards always rust out quickly. Also explains
the smell. . .no, wait. That's in the UK. ;-)

Kreisleriana wrote:

It's true-- Americans DON'T have public toilets. It's a major
weakness in American urban planning. But in LA, they don't expect
anyone to ever get out of their cars.

Sounds like you missed out on my favorite amusement park ride. For some
perverse reason I like riding in Taxi's in strange cities. A beat up cab in
San Francisco beats anything Disneyland has to offer.

One of my best rides was from LAX to Universal Studios. I was in a hurry to
get to a meeting, and the driver was quite obviously in a big hurry to get
me there to collect the fare to pay the next installment on his habit.

Jo
(I actually have a good reason for liking Taxi's. When I was an infant my
Mother was quite ill. My Dad drove a taxi in Washington DC at the time and
worked more than one shift with me with him when he couldn't find anyone to
watch me.)
"Bev" wrote in message
...
As I make the arrangements for our Alaska cruise I am reminded of our
first trip overseas and in particular our stay in LA.
We stayed at Santa Monica on the way home from that trip as I wanted to
attend a writers' conference held there.

I have never forgotten our trip to downtown LA by bus. From memory, we
caught a bus that said Sunset Boulevard on the front. Then our troubles
began. The bus driver hated us on sight. We didn't have the right
change and he slapped his hand on a box by his seat and snarled at us.
We couldn't understand what he said and desperately shuffled through
handfuls of alien coins trying to please him. I guess we looked a bit
odd. We hadn't learned to dress like the locals
(something a traveller should always do when he/she goes away)
I think I was wearing a sun-frock, unheard of in those days in LA and
John a sports jacket. We also spoke with a funny accent and people
sometimes had trouble understanding us (and we them).

The bus seemed to be travelling all day, people got on and off every two
minutes and we slowly began to realise the length of Sunset
Boulevarde. What seemed like hours later we thought we might be in
downtown LA so got off. Big mistake. We didn't have a clue where we
were and badly wanted to use a toilet.

We wandered along, being eyed by a lot of seedy characters and found a
garage with a toilet attached. It was locked, tighter than a tomb.
We found the owner, a Mexican man and asked if we could use it. He
smiled at us and said in impeccable upper class English. "I am so
sorry, I do not speak English".

We got on another bus and travelled on, we knew not where.
Got off again and finally decided that Americans did not have public
toilets. We finally found a bar - whew!!! We got a taxi back to Santa
Monica.

When we left LA we got a taxi to the International airport.
A downy-faced youth appeared in a car that looked as if it had been used
in the Demolition Derby. He would never have got a Warrant of Fitness
in New Zealand. He put our cases in the boot (trunk in the US) and I
noticed that there was no handle on the boot. "I hope you can get that
open again" I murmured uneasily. He patted me on the shoulder
soothingly.

At the airport the boot wouldn't open even with the bit of wire he kept
for a key. Half an hour passed, three quarters of an hour, we were
getting nervous, were we going to miss the plane. Finally he kicked
the thing in frustration and presto!!

This will be our fourth trip to the US. Except for the surly bus
driver people there were unfailingly polite and nice to us when we
stumbled around wanting advice and directions. We will be in LA on the
28th, 29th, 30th and 31st of August and staying in Burbank with my
cousin. Later I will post her addy and phone number if anyone wants to
get in touch with us, or visit.

Bev

-
I got rid of my husband. The cat was allergic.

On Wed, 31 Mar 2004 20:53:54 GMT, "Magic Mood Jeep©"
wrote:

Back in 1997 I spent a week with my brother in Sacramento, CA, and then a
week with a friend in LA. My friend lived 1 block south of Sunset (she
actually lived on Holloway at the time). I strolled up & down several times
that week, always crossing at a light (few & far between at that point), and
one time decided to cross over & head back to her place in between those
rare lights. There was a cross walk there (I might add that this was at the
bottom of a huge hill), so I decided to wait for a break in traffic to
cross. A gentleman joined me in the wait (though we didn't speak), and
after a couple of minutes, ALL FOUR LANES (2 lanes in either direction) OF
TRAFFIC ****STOPPED**** to let ****2**** people cross the street!!!!! I was
flabbergasted/stunned/shocked!!!! Here in Bloomington (with the Indiana
University campus nearby) even if you cross at a cross-walk, stop light or
stop sign or not, you're risking it!!!!

My grandparents lived in Lakewood (LA County). IIRC, they said it was
a state law that you have to stop for pedestrians at a crosswalk,
whether or not there's a stop sign or traffic signal there.



Jeanne Hedge, as directed by Natasha

http://www.jhedge.com