There are cities you know you’re going to love (Paris, Florence, Berlin, Cape Town)
…. some that you catch at a really bad time (San Francisco, Amsterdam) and need to revisit when they are feeling a little less under the weather
….and then there are those that you have so little expectation of, they end up working even harder to catch your attention and imagination and you end up fulfilling the classic romantic comedy storyline by falling in love with them for no apparent reason other than they had a few good pick up lines and a nice smile nice, both of which they know how to combine with a magical beach sunset. LA has been that city for me.
I couldn’t have scripted my week any better. It has been a week of small encounters and big-hearted gestures. It has made me feel connected to the stars, in a way that has nothing to do with dirty boulevards and everything to do with trusting my gut and attracting great people and adventures.
It’s been a week of perfect cycling weather and small, glassy waves that have made room for me on the backline (actually the only line). There is even a yoga studio down the road that I can actually afford to attend.
My life here feels magical. I am the lead in my own reality show, the director of my own Oscar-winning destiny.
Even the bad moments seem to have been scripted in a way that makes for more comedy than drama. Like the time I got cited for “jay walking”. Actually I got “sighted” because my accent and wide-eyed innocence rewrote the moment as “The episode when Cat sweet talks the officer into believing she is just a sweet country girl.”
Only in Hollywood…
- Do you get offered a cool cruiser (with gears) from a friend’s friend which takes you through some of the best neighbourhoods this side of the 405 (hello Santa Monica), past some of the coolest architecture (not a bad Frank Gehry design) and best thrift stores (are these really on sale today?).
- Do you wish you could go out for a quick surf and then get offered a surfboard from a “stranger-until-yesterday” and a wetsuit to boot (okay this one was midget size so I couldn’t use it but the water was warm so I didn’t need it)
- Meet the DOP of “Keeping up with the Kardashins” on your first surf, only to discover he went to school in Durban and you have lots of other things in common.
- Do I know people who know people who are members of “the Academy” and invite us to a free screening of a new movie at their newly refurbished building, where Jane Fonda will be headlining the Q&A afterwards.
- Do you walk onto the set of a commercial with David Hasselhof and Justin Bieber on Venice beach.
- Do you pick up free audience tickets for shows and end up talking for ages and swopping contact details because he might just be able to help your boyfriend out with his accommodation (a big deal in these parts).
- Can you get an hour-long tour of the Scientology Celebrity Centre (oh yes I did) and have to maintain your composure when the “deal closer” enters the room with two of the longest hanging boogers (they looked like stalactites) you have ever seen outside of a special effects department.
- Do you feel like you drive past Paul Newman in a Cadillac, Annette Bening in a big black SUV and maybe crossed the street next to that short, tanned Italian guy with the bushy grey eyebrows who always mafia parts in the movies (you know who I mean).
Did I mention I have been here only a week? This town moves fast but in a way that lets you enjoy the moments, frame by frame. And you never know what characters or storylines are going to intercept yours at Pacific and Venice Boulevard at 4.30pm. (Hopefully not the same cop again. I don’t think I can play the mentally challenged twin).
So who knows? In the next episode of the Migrating Muse, I might win prizes on a game show or find a rare piece of jewellery at a thrift store or share a few moments with a NY banker who got swindled and is now waiting tables to put himself through his MBA (last night’s encounter). It feels like I can’t predict it, I can only be open to it and enjoy it for the transitory adventures it proffers.
You really can’t make this shit up. You can only shake your head and say “only in Hollywood.”
The plot thickens. Like a hearty lentil soup.
Musing on the the star within…