This was not a day from which I expected much but I’ve ended up rubbing shoulders with both ends of the economic spectrum, albeit inadvertently and met both High and Low Culture in all its richness. As a geographer I’ve always been perplexed by the notion of ‘place’ and what it is that makes one place different from another. Perhaps it is the job of the geographer to cast light on this matter. One difficulty is that we tend to classify places such as rural or urban, manufacturing or market town and harbour preconceptions about places on this basis. I have a distinct preference for the rural and the wilderness and therefore tend to not see what is present in other places as my notion of place has a distinctly subjective element as well. Santa Monica was firmly in my ‘Tourist Resort’ box so I’m glad that the effort was made to get out and about a bit.
I enjoyed my first lay-in of the trip and forced myself out of bed at 7.30am. Setting out to hunt for breakfast I discovered that it was provided in the hostel as part of the price. An early walk proved that the weather was still overcast and that the thick lawns overlooking the beach provided ideal sleeping conditions for the homeless; at least I assume they were homeless and not just drunk. 
Back at the hostel I managed to get all my photos downloaded to an appropriate place and got the blog up to date despite the weak and intermittent wi-fi here. Out for coffee, then back to attempt Skype calls home. This involved wandering around the hostel to find a good signal; normally found in corridors or places where noise was at a maximum. Consequently, the calls involved much shouting on my part although I could hear the English end perfectly. Mission accomplished, it was time for lunch which was taken as a breakfast in the Mexican café opposite the hostel. My “Santa Fe” included a huge omelette with chorizo, cheese and other things, dressing, guacamole, chopped tomatoes and onions, corn tortillas and a big green chilli. I tried this with some trepidation but it was both hot and flavoursome so I managed to eat most of it.
This left the afternoon to take care of. The map showed a museum/gallery of modern art so 24 blocks to the north and the delights of the boardwalk or even Venice Beach. The Gallery won so I set out on foot. All went well until, on getting close, the area seemed more like an industrial estate. Uncertain, I studied the map carefully which attracted the attention of a lady who put me on the road. This unasked for help seems to be pretty common here and most welcome too. The site was indeed like a set of factory units; no gallery as such but studios and display areas for working artists. Unfortunately, most of them weren’t working. I hadn’t even thought to ask if this might be a problem; perhaps my Eurocentricism is showing through. Anyway, congratulations to the James Gray Gallery and the Lois Lambert Gallery which were both open and willing to let me take photos. In one, I found a book called “A complete manual of things that might kill you” and pondered the wisdom of buying it for an ex-colleague!!
On the way I’d noticed an “Alley Party” setting up so on my return I strolled past the security to take it all in. The party was to celebrate the Crossroads School 40th Birthday and I assumed it to be a fundraising event.
Most of the stalls were dispensing food and drink but no money seemed to be changing hands. I was immediately struck by the quality of the Band playing; very loud and completely clear with all the elements in balance and no sight of a mixing desk. Watch out for the band, Blowing up the Moon. They may play bigger gigs than this.
Intrigued, I asked a man who seemed to be with the band how old they were. He hailed from London “Been here 30 years and love it!” and said they were all 16-17 year old high school students and the sound was good because the quality of the equipment was first rate. On asking whether the event was a fund raiser his eyebrows rose and he said “They don’t need fundraising, most of the parents here are millionaires”. You couldn’t tell! Apparently the party is funded every year by the parents as a thank you to the community.
People such as Dustin Hoffman and Dennis Hopper (and others) sent/send their children to the school. As I left the lead singer/guitarist switched to a $10,000 Gibson.
Most of the stalls were dispensing food and drink but no money seemed to be changing hands. I was immediately struck by the quality of the Band playing; very loud and completely clear with all the elements in balance and no sight of a mixing desk. Watch out for the band, Blowing up the Moon. They may play bigger gigs than this.
Intrigued, I asked a man who seemed to be with the band how old they were. He hailed from London “Been here 30 years and love it!” and said they were all 16-17 year old high school students and the sound was good because the quality of the equipment was first rate. On asking whether the event was a fund raiser his eyebrows rose and he said “They don’t need fundraising, most of the parents here are millionaires”. You couldn’t tell! Apparently the party is funded every year by the parents as a thank you to the community.
People such as Dustin Hoffman and Dennis Hopper (and others) sent/send their children to the school. As I left the lead singer/guitarist switched to a $10,000 Gibson.
Strolling back I watched a softball game and the experts on a skateboard park unlike anything seen in the UK. The whole thing was set in concrete and had an air of permanence about it.
Indeed, some of the skaters were closer to me in age than the teenagers around them. By the time I hit 6th street the beggars were out. Each seemed to have their pitch and there was no attempt to move them on. Life generally, seemed to swirl around them although some had sizeable collections of notes so they cannot have been completely ignored. I had to admire the style of one, a black man dressed in a smart blue boiler suit holding out a silver serving dish for contributions.
Indeed, some of the skaters were closer to me in age than the teenagers around them. By the time I hit 6th street the beggars were out. Each seemed to have their pitch and there was no attempt to move them on. Life generally, seemed to swirl around them although some had sizeable collections of notes so they cannot have been completely ignored. I had to admire the style of one, a black man dressed in a smart blue boiler suit holding out a silver serving dish for contributions.
A quick pause for refreshment and I set out for the boardwalk which marked the end of Route 66. All manner of seaside entertainment was available but down on the beach I found Arlington Cemetery West. Here were crosses to mark all the 6,000+ US servicemen killed in Iraq and Afghanistan and ten flag draped coffins to represent this week’s toll. A notice claimed that if the Iraqi dead were acknowledged they would have to cover the entire beach in crosses.
The man who seemed to be in charge told me that it was a protest against a worthless war, one that they couldn’t pull out from and gave Bin Laden everything he wanted. Meanwhile, up on the pier you could spend money on a variety of things
The man who seemed to be in charge told me that it was a protest against a worthless war, one that they couldn’t pull out from and gave Bin Laden everything he wanted. Meanwhile, up on the pier you could spend money on a variety of things
1. Mexicans who painted colourful scenes in oils on pieces of glass before sealing them with another sheet.
2. Chinese clay modellers who produced a life like head of sitting models
3. Having your photo taken with a star. The life sized cut-outs were very faded and not much business was being done here.
4. Tarot reading – past, present and future. No takers here either.
5. Give money to people dressed up as film characters. Some did and some didn’t but a forlorn character in a red dog suit (Pluto??) seemed to be carefully avoided by the throng.
By the entrance was a man in a chair with a bubble blowing machine who held up a sign with the word “Oops” on it every now and then. There may have been a reason but this eluded me.
Finally, we all met up for a meal and went to a Pizza place on the pedestrianized 3rd street. The buskers were out in force and two in particular were in a class of their own; both were selling CDs at a reasonable rate. The first was Amy May, British and the second was Sammie Jay. Google them, they may be stars of the future.
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