LA on Salvador's Bus

After flying back to LAX, via the beloved Miami, I headed to the hotel the boys (Clint, Robert and Flood) were staying at. They were presently at Disneyland, which I had opted out of after my horrendous DisneyWorld experience, so I had the hotel room to myself to refresh, recoup and do a load of washing (Living large!).

When they returned we had a few drinks and discussed the next couple of weeks which Robert had been the organiser of (Working along side a travel agent). We had an early night in preparation of the exciting adventure commencing the following day.

We were up early to get a shuttle bus to take us to a bus terminus where we would spend majority of the day being driven around and fed information on LA. We boarded our bus, or rather Salvador's bus, as the little Mexican driver, Salvador, repeatedly told us. To this day I have absolutely no idea why Salvador's bus was covered in sea creatures... But he did once mention that he liked to fish... Presumably roller-coasting sting-rays were a delicacy of his home town.

First stop was a little Mexican ghost town... Which presumably had an actual name, probably wasn't Mexican, and had some relevance to Loz Hangelays... However all of these facts now escape me.

We reboarded the bus, went past a park with pink benches, the entry to China Town, and then again hopped off in the middle of Los Angeles.

Apart from a whole bunch of buildings there was a fountain and 'LA Phil',  namely the Los Angeles Philharmonic, which was probably the most impressive building in the city, and reminded me of my exceptionally skilled uncle who plays in the Nottingham philharmonic.

 

LA Philharmonic

We all-aboarded and continued onto Hollywood Boulevard before once again hopping off the bus (Who's bus? Salvador's bus) for an hour to snap a few pictures of the Hollywood sign and the stars studding the footpath. 

 

We returned to the bus and were whisked away once more on the only bus that really matters (Salvador's bus) to ol' 90210 (The only American zip code anyone actually knows!), namely Beverley Hills.

 We cruised through the 'Hills to the Farmers Market, which ol Salvador highly recommended. And he wasn't far wrong. Delicious food, a million and one different hot sauces and ginormous toffee apples. I was impressed, however couldn't help but miss the lack of fresh fruit and vegetables. Just meat, hot sauce and candy, which reminded me that I was indeed, back in 'Merica.

Post lunch we were transported to Venice Beach (Including the terrifying Muscle Beach, where steroids are embraced). The beach reminded me of a post-hurricane Gold Coast... Filled with chinsey tat shops. Not entirely unpleasant, but not somewhere I'd be rushing back to any time in the future. We mosied down the beach front until we found a bar (Ol mate Salvador had decided to leave us in this sandy waste-land for 3 whole hours!).

Which wasn't altogether bad... But then the "mist" came rolling on in from the ocean...

Eventually we were rescued by Salvador (And his bus) and returned to our hotel, where we had dinner in the hotel before crashing out. Being sensible before our giddying drive out into the Nebraska Desert the following day.