Santa Monica, Venice Beach & Viper Room

I take the bus to Santa Monica. It’s not true what everyone says: it’s fine without a car in LA. Three quarters of an hour later, I’m on the beach for the first time. Okay, I can’t find the next bus northwards. No matter. I first walk to the northern end of the Palisades, then along the beach under the Santa Monica Pier to the southern end of Venice Beach. David Hasselhoff is gone. Probably surfing around drunk on hamburgers again. We head back to Santa Monica Pier via Venice Beach Boulevard. The houses are interesting. Like bags: American Homes, Best of Volume II. At a bus stop, a drunk is shouting after two blondes. When I hand him his lost headphones, he grabs my bus ticket.

I don’t have much time. In West Hollywood I just have a quick shower, then I head west along Sunset Boulevard. Everything there is really big and expensive. Right in the centre: Viper Room, Johnny Depp’s music venue. River Phoenix died here on the pavement after a night that was a little too heavy. Since then, he’s no longer afraid of snakes. Today is an indie concert with four bands. Westcoast is laid back. I’m on time, and therefore an hour early. A Japanese man in the neighbourhood amuses me with divine sushi.

The concert later is good. Fresh new rock, much of it sounds like old Britpop. A German student director, my unexpected host, lots of future rock stars, in other words: the whole scene. Finally I can feel like I’m in front of “King of Queens” (sorry, Bine): just watch, relax and grin. The pilsner costs a whopping $7, but hey…in is who is in. The Japanese guy next door invites me for another beer. I’m pleased and annoyed. Small world. Been in Germany for a long time, want to do something good for me.

Towards the end of the concert, a Romanian comes up to me: yes, servas and all, and where are you staying tonight, by the way, I’ve got a cousin there. Dave, do you remember Cabarete? Exactly the same. He brings out his cousin, introduces her to me and I can’t help but notice them later in the corner: no, that’s not how cousins hug…

The return journey was planned by bus. But it’s something between extremely laid back and completely lost. Not coming. Good. Walking. In front of a luxury hotel at one o’clock, really bad bad guys say goodbye: gold chains, gold teeth, bitch on the left, bitch on the right. A cameraman is filming on the red carpet, Time-Warner shines in the background. 100 metres further on, a well-dressed black man stands lost in thought in front of the window displays of a luxury boutique. Yep, these are contrasts that even Photoshop can’t conjure up.