 |
| A nicer glimpse of Downtown |
So, I’ve arrived in Downtown L.A. with the plan of resting a few days from travelling before the big puppet festivals begin. However - this is not the city to rest in. I must use all my strength and energy to walk down the streets over-confidently, so I blend in to not look like such a typical tourist or target. Every corner I turn, I feel like there’s someone waiting for me to let my guard down so they can mug me or worse... It’s hard to not stand out - I’m probably one of the only young, blonde, white females walking by herself on these old worn out streets... But I try my best to keep my chin up (literally speaking). It is however, a much scarier place then I thought it would be.
Though, however scary, there’s something warm and familiar about it which keeps catching me off-guard and giving me home for this place.
 |
| The scary world of Downtown... |
Yet, somehow it seems very familiar while at the same time, so very different.
One of the biggest differences being that I think my ‘Australian’ English is very different to L.A. English (and also to the LACK of English at times - which makes the city both culturally vibrant and frustrating to get around). At times I feel as misunderstood as a traveller from a non-English speaking country. It’s like a parallel universe. There are minor differences, but the minor differences build up to make you realise you’re so far from home.
 |
| Olvera Street |
Everything is just like in the movies and TV shows. Let’s just say, watching CSI Los Angeles in preparation before my trip wasn’t such a bad thing to do. Also, I think when you watch American TV and movies back home, you immediately connect everything to a fantasy reality. So finding that in fact most things are as they seem on TV, is probably the biggest culture shock of all.
L.A. is big and it’s hard to get around. Most people are harsh and unfriendly and seem to have an ulterior motive to help you, especially when it comes to tipping and being a young, white female. To choose to stay in Downtown L.A. of all places on my very first stop, may have been a slight miss planning on my part. But when you’re planning from the other side of the world - foresight isn’t always as easy.
There were a couple of nice places to be, especially during the day on the 4th of July. One of these hot spots was Olvera Street, where the world changed into a little festival full of colour, music, laughter and delicious smells!
 |
| Olvera Street |
However, when you left little Mexico and places like Olvera Street, the streets transform into a hateful a dog-eat-dog world. There are signs on the streets that state: “No drug dealing on the street” with big, tough Mexicans smoking pot on the side of the street in plain site. The classic ‘pimp’ type guys who I thought only existed in cartoons keep asking me if I wanted to hang out with them for the day. I joke my way out of it with flare and confidence (while my heart is pounding and racing) and thank my lucky stars each time for getting out of sticky situations so easily.
 |
| After 5pm the world changes |
By 5pm it’s still as light as if it were noon, all the shop fronts become closed with dirty garage doors replacing the vibrant world and everything suddenly changes into a very scary, harsh and frightening place to be. With all my might, I walk through the streets with my continual ‘air of confidence’ and try to avoid the trouble that seems to keep meeting me. With a loaded sigh of relief I return to my hotel room and watch American TV, fascinated by the vast array channels, Spanish soaps and bizarre informercials while I try to block out the gunshots outside and the police and ambulance sirens every five minutes. Sometimes I’m worried to fall asleep since the metal fencing in front of my fire-escape window looks like its been broken into a few too many times.
There was an upside in all this - I did find myself living off the huge variety of fast food and Mexican food chains for five days! It’s a world in itself. Everyday I would try a new chain, in total fascination with the portion sizes. When I order ‘small’, to my surprise I receive a very large size. I try to tell them they’d make a mistake, but with my Australian English both parties are lost in total confusion.
 |
| Olvera Street markets |
My favourite would have to be ‘El Pollo Loco’, which are as common as McDonald’s in Downtown. I wondered in one afternoon after I’d accidently stumbled into the Spanish district, Little Mexico. Here I had the most trouble communicating, as here no one at all really spoke English. Perhaps it was also my lack of understanding of how to use a ‘salsa bar’ and not having used the American currency before and not knowing if and when or how much I should tip. Somehow we managed to speak some attempt at sign-language and I fell in love with the food while listening to the Mexican version of Mandy Moore. Fantastic.
As happy as I feel to be leaving this place - I’m also happy I came. I don’t think I’ve ever feared for my life so many times in a series of a few days, and through that I learnt a few life lessons and felt a sense of accomplishment and empowerment. The rest of my adventure will be easy after surviving this, I hope...
