Travel Journal
So I have now spent one day in Los Angeles, and my first day in Hawai'i and with nothing to show for it. My intent whe I thought about writing on this trip was not to make a journal of my daily activities, post all my photos on the internet, nor awe my family and friends with a stunning account of a tropical paradise. No, my intent in creating this blog is solely as a writing excercise. I want to expirament with travel writing, and am hoping that my experiences on this trip to Hawai'i will be my source material. So far I have thought of half a dozen story angles, taken pictures galore to go with each, and scribbled half sentences for each story event, yet writen none of them (except for the first paragraph about perceptions of Los Angeles, which was pretty bad). The reason is not lack of dedication or inspiration, but a lack of time when brain cells are pleantiful, and a parallel lack of brain cells when time is plentiful. We have, my companions and I, essentially been traveling for two days. We have crossed half of a continent and half of an ocean, and flown back five hours from the time my alarm clock in Austin is flashing at my empty bedroom. And we have done it all with two kids and a baby.
So now you are wondering. Here's the thing: I'm a nanny. The family I work for believes in traveling abroad with babies, but needs a little help to make that happen. This summer is Hawai'i.
Los Angeles
We left Austin on Thursday morning about 10:30 and flew to Los Angeles, where we spent the afternoon and the next morning. Now when I think of Los Angeles, sometimes I get mental images of Hollywood and movie stars, other times my mental images tend towards street gangs and palm trees, and other times, when I actually try to think realistically, I see a mental image of a coffee shop and smog - which are all I remember from driving through the city when I was 12. If nothing else, at least I now have a better mental image than a coffe shop and smog. On the mile long taxi ride from LAX airport to the airport hotel, I spotted at least half a dozen bill boards advertising new movies, one for a cassino, one for a weight loss program, and one bill board for a major soft drink company, but I can't remember which one, because all the bill board said was "thursty? ahhhh!" and this in Spanish.
When we hailed a cab in search of dinner that evening, it was to a quaint little strip of 1950's style cafes and shops that the address on 87th street brought us. Now, you must understand that a quaint little strip of 1950's style cafes and shops did not mesh with my preconseved ideas of movie stars or street gangs, and the shops called things like Canturbery Art Shoppe, and Olive It Sandwitches, and Needlepoint West, gave me quite a surprise. One little shop caught my eye in particular for it's pairing of sewing machines and vacuume cleaners. It was called "Vacuumes and Sewing Machines: Classic style and high Quality," or something else just as cheesy. The shop's two bay windows were set on either side of a front door that probably had a bell. The window on the left had a line of five or six vacuume cleaners, while the window on the right displayed an aray of sewing machines and little girls' dresses complete with embrodery.
After a dinner of Tai food accross from the vacuume and sewing shop, and next to the art shoppe, we wandered into a tea room called Teacups Tea Lounge. The lounge was set up with little circles of sofas and overstuffed chairs around coffee tables. The walls were decorated with local art work, and decales with sayings like "give a little bit of yourself back to the world every day." The shops owner, a middle age African American woman, stood in the center of the shop having a conversation with some customers, or some friends, it was hard to tell the difference. In fact, thinking back, she seemed to be close friends with all of her customers. Conversations about tea, about this or that, or who, or little nothings that say "we saw eachother just yesterday so now we are not saying much, but still knowing everything." Or maybe they were just customers and that is just her way. But that was the charm of the place; she asked you what you would like and then called "Mama!" to the older woman sitting in a chair in the corner, "Mama, can you get this lady a cookie? My mama will get it for you, honey." And when your cookie came, and your tea with it, the tea came in a little pot, and there was a little hour glass to flip to time the steeping. And there were games for the children to play, and the owner pulled them out for you and said, "here honey, come and play with this, and the adults can enjoy their dessert." The Teacups Tearoom was a place where you felt like you were somebody; it was nothing short of a ministry, disguised as a four-walled business right in the middle of 87th street, Los Angles, CA. So in short, my perceptions of Los Angeles has changed. There are still palm trees and there are still giant advertisments that say "Less than 30 minutes" painted on the bus stop and I think "oh good; there is a bus every 30 minutes" only to realize that "Less than 30 minutes" is a movie comming out this fall, but underneath it all, Los Angeles is just like every other city, with its sweet people and charming spots.
