Lotusland: 05 – End of the Trail
The Oscars, Tourists, Beautiful Sunsets, and Surveillance Cameras.
March 12th, 2023
Thai Town → Hollywood → Beverly Hills → Santa Monica Pier
[21.26 miles]
Don’t ask me why I did it. Walking to the Santa Monica Pier from Thai Town was not in the cards when I left today, but the sidewalk pulled me until I couldn’t move any further. I reached the Pacific Ocean.
A twenty-one mile jaunt. So much for only walking ten to twelve miles a day. When all is said and done, this series of walks will easily exceed one hundred miles, but who's counting?
My initial plan: to walk Hollywood Boulevard until reaching the Walk of Fame. From there, I’d bop down to Sunset Boulevard, continue west until reaching Beverly Hills.
One could consider Hollywood Boulevard, particularly the stretch between Vine Street and Hyland Avenue the Times Square of Los Angeles. Nothing more than a tourist trap, however it’s the places most well-adjusted locals avoid that tend to draw me. Beneath the veneer of spectacle, high-traffic grime, and souvenir shops is often an opportunity to discover an alternative narrative.
Today was something else. I didn’t realize the Oscars were taking place this evening, so Hollywood was buzzing with an abundance of LAPD and tuxedo wearing security. Hollywood Boulevard was closed off to through traffic near Dolby Theater, allowing me to walk in the middle of the street. A helicopter hummed overhead. Around the corner, I found refuge in the Hollywood Farmer’s market.
The spectacle of Hollywood continues to draw tourists. Especially near the Walk of Fame. I had to weave through groups taking photos beside their favorite stars. Johnny Depp. Sandra Bullock. Guy Fieri. Bruce Lee. Marilyn Monroe. Billlie – a K-pop group I’ve never heard off – flagged bystanders for interviews, myself included. A promotion video for their new album. This is our first time in Los Angeles! A crowd accumulated and took photos.
Stranded tourists wandered aimlessly. Faces buried in their phones. I saw a family bound by their luggage in a 711 parking lot, baking beneath the sun and waiting for a ride. The look on their faces said, this is not the Hollywood we signed up for.
On Sunset Boulevard, I ran into a group of highschool students. They were in the middle of a twenty-six mile ‘March for Hunger’ walk organized by their school. They started at 8am from Salazar Park in Boyle Heights. Their destination: the beaches of Santa Monica. What a coincidence. I told them I was walking to Santa Monica too. At least I was now.
We’re the last ones! Everyone else took a car to the end.
We walked together momentarily. Little conversation was shared. All seemed pretty tuckered out with boba drinks in their hands. It was mile fifteen.
See you in Santa Monica.
Los Angeles drivers – while taking a right turn – either barrel through a crosswalk without any concern or cautiously inch their way towards those moving across the street. The latter is comical, like they are acknowledging the presence of their vehicle as a major inconvenience to those on foot. I’m almost always met with a wave. I’m sorry. Right this way! You’d never see that behavior in New York City, where drivers move feet from your body.
On the ground, I haven’t felt all that uncomfortable walking in Los Angeles – in terms of infrastructure. I’ve never seen most parts of the city I’m walking (not this intimately), although conditions aren’t unlike any other major city that prioritizes vehicles. That’s not to say conditions are ideal. Oftentimes I’m walking along arterial roads, with unmaintained sidewalks and massive intersections. On especially busy streets, the crosswalk counter rarely gives enough time to cross, forcing me into a light jog so as not to get run over.
Pedestrian activity varies. Some stretches – like Santa Monica Boulevard in Century City – are void of foot traffic. Occasionally I encounter a self-driving delivery robot that brings food and supplies to customers. Most forgo walking altogether in favor of e-scooters, which are likely popular given the presence of e-scooter rideshares throughout the city.
Santa Monica. That’s fourteen miles away from here. It will take you about seven hours, given you walk two miles per hour.
I checked my map. Lawrence wasn’t completely wrong, but it would probably take me four hours if I didn’t dilly-dally or get lost.
You’re a photographer, yes? You see that building over there with the Spanish tiles? None of your contemporaries would even know about it.
I approached Lawrence, an older gentleman in his early 70’s, because he was holding a dog in his arms and I could see his blue eyes from a mile away. He had a certain energy that drew me in.
Look up Alnwick Castle. I grew up right near it. Can you believe it exists? Marvelous. Now if you get tired, take the number two bus. It starts at UCLA and runs all the way to the beach.
He lived up in the Hills and had long fingernails on his right hand, suggesting he finger plucked guitar. He could talk for days, if not weeks, and had a way of rolling one subject into another before you could get a word. Each time I tried cutting it short, he looked me in the eyes and began on another:
And I’m telling you this because people travel all over the world, but they will never find a more beautiful sunset than you will see on the west coast. The light is absolutely wonderful in the last two weeks of September.
If I didn’t have plans to reach Santa Monica, I would have stuck around. Lawrence understood, but not before pointing out another building and the cycle continued.
And that empty lot over there. Now that was the Garden of Allah. It was chic. It was magnificent. It was wonderful. Anyone who was anybody stayed there! Now, none of your contemporaries would know that had I not pointed that out to you.
He insisted I have his email before parting ways.
Now will you send me those photos? I want to share them with my grandchildren.
Beverly Hills holds that same spectacle and worldwide currency that Hollywood possesses. Few have actually visited, although almost everyone knows it exists. I don’t mean to walk places with preconceived notions, but I had an itch that I wouldn't enjoy walking Beverly Hills all that much. However, if I was walking Hollywood and Sunset Boulevard, I couldn’t call it a day without walking Beverly Hills. I wanted to see it with my own eyes.
I read Beverly HIlls is one of the most surveilled communities in the world. Globally recognized for luxury and wealth, the city operates with more than two-thousand security cameras – one for every sixteen residents. Each residence has a security sign posted in the front lawn, which is almost always sectioned off by a tall gate. Neighborhood Watch. Armed Guard Response. Secured home. House fences (more like concrete walls) sitting adjacent to busy Santa Monica Boulevard were lined with razor wire to deter curious home invaders. Teslas, Ferraris, BMW’s, Mercedes, and Land Rovers fill the narrow driveways.
The neighborhood is undoubtedly gorgeous in a way that only large sums of wealth can afford. The grass is the greenest in all of Los Angeles (Beverly Hills is one of the largest consumers of water in California). Large palms and trees line the streets, providing adequate shade (a real issue in this city) on the sunniest days.
Given the amount of cameras watching the residents of Beverly Hills, you’d think an extra camera – the one resting in my hands – would not be of much concern, but I still felt uncomfortable each time I walked up to the fences of a secured mansion to snap a picture. Despite my concern, nobody said a word.
I continued to Rodeo Drive, just to see what all the fuss was about. The whole strip is really just a luxury shopping mall full of tourists, albeit a walkable one.
I had a late meal at McDonalds – two cheeseburgers and a bottle of water. Sometimes it’s nothing special for lunch. I had my eyes peeled for a special place to eat throughout the day, the kind of palace that drew me in the way Lawrence did earlier, but everything was closed, or I just didn't see anything of interest. Not that I’m a huge fan of McDonalds, but it’s reliable, cheap, full of calories, and convenient.
Hunger is not usually a huge concern on these walks, although my stomach does tend to rumble. I snack throughout the day and save my appetite for a large meal towards the second half of my journey. Another meal is in order once I return to the house.
At McDonalds, I used the restroom and took a break, recognizing the pulsing blisters starting on my feet. I’ve done a good job of taking care of my toes, but I’ve never had luck preventing blisters on any long series of walks. It didn't help that today was the longest journey of the trip.
On Wilshire, I briefly caught up with the highschoolers. Chaperones waited at intersections beneath the 405 with stop signs, ready to halt traffic. I told them I was also on my way to Santa Monica too and they graciously offered me bottles of water, cookies, and encouragement.
You’re almost there!
The stretch of Wilshire after crossing the 405 is full of mattress shops, Erewhon, and unhoused people camping out beneath the business awnings. The streets are unusually quiet. Could it have been the Oscars? Although I was approached by a man looking for some marijuana. Most people walking the sidewalks looked like they were out grabbing food or going for a run.
As the sun began to set (I was so thankful for the extra hour of sunlight today thanks to the start of daylight savings time), I put my camera away – feeling euphoric – lost in my thoughts. A special mental space which usually occurs on long distance walks, especially those with a destination in mind. In this space, my body no longer hurts, I swear I’m a better singer, everything is beautiful, and I’m happy to be alive, even in the most barren and commercial stretches of road.
I used the restroom at a Dunkin Donuts. Outside was another cluster of high schoolers. I joined and together we finished the walk. It was a beautiful moment – touching in a way I did not expect. I forget what it’s like to be a young teenager and for a moment I was in their world.
Once seeing the horizon line of the ocean, we rushed for the bluffs overlooking the beach, like newborn sea turtles crawling for the sea. A seemingly triumphant moment, but a sense of celebration was quickly interrupted by two coach buses full of students who had already completed the journey. From the window, another chaperone yelled at the students.
Get on the bus! It’s almost time to go!
The students darted for the bus without saying goodbye.
Good luck out there, kids.
I had an hour and a half train ride waiting for me. A comfortable ride on a coach bus sounded awfully nice.
I’ve never visited Santa Monica and the pier that extends into the ocean. Route 66 ends right where the pier begins. There’s a ferris wheel, places to eat, and arcade games. For a Sunday night, the pier was incredibly busy. I’ve yet to see all the beach towns of greater Los Angeles, but Santa Monica somewhat reminded me of Coney Island. I walked to the end of the pier and stared into the ocean. At night it looks like a dark void, but you can hear the waves crashing.
I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. There is no better way to end a long walk than to reach a large body of water – especially the ocean. It has something to do with not being able to move any further. A sense of accomplishment.
No rain tomorrow, but I’m afraid the sun won’t shine for the rest of my stay in Los Angeles. What happens on the walk is what happens on the walk. Easy day tomorrow. Only two more walks left until this series wraps.
Thanks for reading,
Alex