The City of Angels - 1

Rows and rows of palm trees stand erect like sentinels along the winding roads of Los Angeles. They perhaps shoulder the responsibility of guarding the very wealthy angles (and some devils) who deign to reside here. Rubbing shoulders with them are towering high rises that fall just a few feet short of the doors of heaven. As we scurry along the highway flanked by herculean concrete monuments and verdant hills, I feel like an ant trying to make its way to the anthill.

The city of sun, sand, amusement parks, shiploads of moolah, man-made wonders, showbiz, technology and a throng of crazy people lies spread-eagled in front of us. Like perfect tourists, we begin our day by scaling Mt. Hollywood to feast our eyes on the famous HOLLYWOOD sign. Helicopters buzz around and I swoon a little as I imagine one of them carrying Brad Pitt or even a younger Tom Cruise...no harm in day dreaming now, is there?

Our first stop is the Griffith Observatory and as the mammoth doors swing open to let us in, I feel like I have enrolled in a refresher course for 3rd grade science. The difference though is that with all its life size models and really cool live images, this is a far cry from the more often than not sleep inducing classroom sessions we had in school.

Peering into a telescope, I say hello to the red faced sun I love so much. On the adjoining wall I admire the elements stacked up in their designated positions to form a giant periodic table. From a heavily muralled ceiling hangs a Foucault Pendulum, swaying gently and knocking off a peg every seven minutes to prove that the earth is in fact rotating on its axis.

At the Samuel Oschin Planetarium we are suddenly plunged into utter darkness and just when I start to believe that power cuts afflict first world countries too, the rotunda above our heads bursts into tiny stars and we find ourselves staring at a full moon sky at noon. Star gazing makes the entire visit a tad bit more special.

Our evenings are reserved for the warm, salty fresh sea breeze that we have been dreaming of while enduring a harsh, snow-filled winter. Just off the Pacific ocean lies a stretch of land which when visited by naive tourists like us leaves an impression of being frozen forever in the 70’s. I promptly step aside as the strangest place I have seen so far unfurls. It is called the Venice beach boardwalk.

It is here that I can opt to find out, for a measly sum of 30 bucks, if I am eligible for being prescribed medical marijuana(the men inside the green walled shop look like drug peddlers and the customers look like zombies) or buy a vibrantly painted human skull for my souvenir collection back home or sample a large bag of frozen popcorn or even indulge in a 5 minute back massage for 5 bucks (again at my own risk).

A large red and yellow awning flaps in the wind under a signboard which proudly claims to showcase an array of freak shows within its premises. Suddenly a face with several hundred piercings pops out from behind the curtains at the entrance and I almost jump out of my skin. Apparently, this is a sneak peek to lure people into paying 10 bucks to witness other similar monstrosities. I, on the other hand, cannot get away from the place faster.

King Solomon the Snake Charmer strolls around scaring people with a slimy cobra around his neck while a girl sporting the Gothic look – black nail paint, heavy black eyeshadow and mascara, black leather trousers, nose ring etc – ambles by with a board around her neck which says 'Help a girl in need with some weed'. There is a flower child sitting on a ledge chanting over and over again 'I ate an apple and died'.

Then again, I decide not to judge a book by its cover. Thankfully, before writing off the place as one of those loony bins where odd people are sequestered, I stumble upon a pretty artifact which is up for grabs at a throw away price. It is as if the place wants to make up for all the oddities it has inflicted upon me so far. A bunch of amateur street singers serenade us as we sip coffee in one of the many cafes flecking the boardwalk and I watch the sun set on a day to remember.

In deep contrast to the Venice beach lies Santa Monica which suits those with deep pockets. It offers plush hotels with sea facing terraces, shiny malls with big brands, happy people dressed in haute couture heading out for a night of revelry and the Santa Monica pier with its numerous fun rides, most prominent of which is the glittery Pacific wheel. All along the Pacific rages violently like a bitter old man who envies and loathes the youthful fun and frolic on its shores.

I cannot do justice to the entire bundle of fun that Los Angeles is in one blog post. And so, for the first time, I have decided to write a 2-part travelogue. Keep an eye on this space to read about a heart racing account of Universal studios and Hollywood Boulevard in my next post.