The road to Hollywood took a good six hours by Greyhound, along Route 5. I shared the journey with Paul Simon, who was also headed south.
As they're not in the business of getting you from A to B as scenically as possible we didn't get to cruise along the South Pacific Highway, though I was more than impressed with what we were presented with en-route.
Actually the long transition of landscape either side of us was enough to keep me interested while others slept. It was all very North Island New Zealand - blankets and blankets of green rolling hills lined with tall robust firs poking into deep blue skies - a pleasant surprise I hadn't anticipated.
Andris was waiting in reception at the USA Hostels 'Hollywood' as we pulled up at outside. He'd flown in from Colorado earlier this afternoon. We decided to go have a wander and grab a bite to eat somewhere to get acquainted. Before we knew it we were seated promptly in a not overly-friendly Thai restaurant, which sat tucked away in a dark recess somewhere along Hollywood Boulevard.
I'd always assumed this strip of fame and fortune to be quite a relaxed environment, maybe even mildly pleasant, albeit a bit of pretentious nonsense. What I hadn't prepared myself for was the cold hostility of an LA ghetto. You could have cut the air with a knife in Hollywood on this particular Sunday evening. We were approached far too often by the wrong sort and within a range of personal space that put me in to a different mode entirely. Enough was enough. We changed our environment..
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