LA

As we stepped off the plane in LA we realised we were officially entering he final leg of our trip. Bitter-sweet; as although we were both excited to head back to the UK, it did mean that our travels were officially coming to an end. Despite having literally no money left – apparently budgeting is not my forte – we wanted to make the most of it. Especially as it was my first time in the States.

The first thing we noticed about the people in LA is how friendly they were! Rocking up to a bus station from the airport, we had zero change on us. But the bus driver welcomed us aboard, waving away the fact we couldn’t pay. Had that been London, we would have had the door unceremoniously shut in our faces! Then a delightful man asked us where we were headed and proceeded to give us very explicit directions. Ah-mazing!

Very Baywatch-esque, Hermosa Beach, LA

Our first hostel – Surf City Hostel – was located right on Hermosa Beach, a stone’s throw away from the sea. Cool, but run by an old, slightly hippy, surfer dude who seemed it his life mission to make inappropriate sex comments that made for very awkward conversation!

Universal Studios, LA



Hollywood Walk of Fame, LA

Dodgers Game, LA

Tourist’ing-it-up to the max, we visited all the standard attractions: Universal Studios, a Dodgers match where we got our first taste of the anthem “Take Me Out to the Ball Game,” the Hollywood Walk of Fame, Grauman’s Chinese Theatre as well as a tour around celebrity houses (much to my disgust and HT’s joy!).
  

As we had failed to take my own advice of booking well in advance for accommodation, we had only secured two nights at our first hostel, so had to move. Hoisting on the now quite worn backpacks, we trekked across town to Venice Beach (Venice Beach Hostel). Attempting to be adventurous, we rented out bikes from the friendly English owner, which soon became known as the “Bikes of Death” (appropriately named by HT). Halfway down to the main road, heading to the beach, we realized that HT’s brakes did not work. At all. In hindsight, we realized it probably would’ve been a good idea to head back and exchange them, but obviously common sense failed us and we didn’t do that. Instead we cycled all the way up to Santa Monica pier. We had to adopt some sort of system that involved me yelling to warn her when I was stopping and her using her feet/various body parts to stop the beast. This worked well until on the way back, I unfortunately made the mistake of taking us via a highway. In the dark. Of course our lights didn’t work either. Brilliant.

Whilst snorers had plagued as throughout the trip, nothing compared to our last night at Venice Beach Hostel. I kid you not, it sounded like a train was ripping right through the room. The bastard in question’s bed was right next to mine. I started to get more annoyed at each passing noise and eventually worked up the courage to start shaking his bed. It seemed to work initially, but then he would just start up again. Even louder. At one point, HT and I burst out laughing the middle of the night out of pure desperation. Classic laughing to stop the crying. Nearing the edge of desperation, I grabbed my pillow and smacked him across the body. Hard. He woke with a jump as I ducked under the covers. The five minute respite combined with my iPod gave me enough time to finally fall asleep.

Beyond sad that we were at the end of our travels. The only silver lining was that I still had Ibiza to look forward to!