L.A. Trippin’

The artist and his muses had left. A group of Japanese tourists was feverishly discussing the logic behind the blanks the girls’ bodies had left in the painting.
Mark and Lucy were sitting on the concrete bench. Lucy had a huge bag propped up next to her. They looked really happy, just enjoying watching others going about their way. Something Lucy had always been yearning for, just to look at other people without knowing or judging them and without being judged or stared at herself.
“Damon – Nudjia!” she yelled across the square and waved.
She was so happy to see us. We were still too far off to understand what she said to Mark, but it must have been something nice, the way he smiled back at her. Both were wearing new shirts, Lucy a white one with huge green dots. Mark’s had huge blue and orange stripes. They looked great. We’d all badly needed new clothes.
The few hours we had spent apart had done us all good. Finally we had come to a standstill and everyone’d had some time off to relax. We had been so tight over the last days that we all desperately needed a break.
As we got closer they moved apart a bit so we could sit in their midst.
“Well you two, what have you been up to?” Lucy asked.
Of course I didn’t tell her about the test and stuff, but Nudjia couldn’t be stopped from showing Lucy my gift.
“Wow Nudjia, that’s really pretty,” she said.
And to me: “Tell me Damon, when did you develop a taste for undies?!”
“We also bought some clothes. We had nothing left to wear. Mark didn’t have much with him from the start and I’d shared all that I had with Nudjia, so she’d have at least something to put on. Mark got himself two pairs of jeans and a few t-shirts, while I bought a skirt, two shirts and a sweater.”
She held up the red and white striped sweater: “For when Mark and his buddies stay out surfing until sundown - it’ll get quite cold waiting by the shore.”
Mark took her in his arms and said: “Hey love, I told you before I’d make you a campfire and you’ll always have someone to keep you company. You’ll never be alone. Usually we won’t go out all at the same time anyway.”
Of course she knew. But this was Lucy needing the sweet-talk. She kissed him and things were good. I felt we were both so lucky with our new-found friends. Imagine what would have happened if we would have stayed in Midville?! Nothing I guess …  We’d probably never have met someone we really liked. Maybe we’d just dried out over the years. I didn’t want to think of such a nightmare. Here we were, finally in L.A. and we had some great new adventures coming up.
Despite all the fun, we hadn’t forgotten about the purpose of the stop. After all it wasn’t planned as a shopping tour.
“We haven’t found anything as far as apartments go,” Mark said as if reading my mind. “It was too late – everything was gone.”
That felt good - although it was bad, of course. But at least it wasn’t just us returning empty handed.
I said: “Don’t worry, we’ve got nothing either. I gave up after getting yelled at all the time.”
That wasn’t the entire truth, but all they needed to know as far as I was concerned.
As to finding a solution to our camping problem, we were still stuck at point zero.
“I’d say we get up tomorrow at five,” Lucy said, “that is, Mark will,” poking him in the side. “We’ll survive one more night in the bus. What do you think Damon?”
Before I could say no I spotted Tiko running our way, looking very excited, Louis not far behind.
“We met someone who’d let us his apartment for a few weeks,” he yelled, slightly out of breath.
Saved by the bell!
“The guy’s a musician with the Symphonics and they will be touring for six weeks so we can have his place for as long as we like.”
What an incredible surprise. We were so lucky, just unbelievable!
“I see Tiko already told you the good news,” Louis said puffing in the sun.
“We were having a break in a bar and I was telling Tiko something about the music I like and what it means to me, when all of a sudden this guy at the next table gets up and walks over apologizing his overhearing our conversation. He said he is a musician and although he plays and listens to entirely different kinds of music, he loved that we share the passion. It struck him deeply that he’d have chosen exactly the same words to describe it. So we got into talking and from one came the other. After a while he offered us his condo. Now you take a guess where it’s at …”
He was grinning so viciously that it had to be either Malibu, the Hollywood hills or ….  Watts?
“Well,” he asked again, almost overdoing it.
“VENICE!”
“WOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAH,” we all yelled.
Right next to the beach, can you imagine? Swimming in the ocean, Mark finally being able to practice again, me kissing Nudjia at sunset. Waking up, the sun shining in our faces. Sleeping in real beds. Paradise!!!
“Let’s go,” Louis said.

As we entered the parking we saw a huge crowd sticking to the bus – almost like the flies to Midville’s monument. True, our’s was slightly different from the others. The bus that is -  the monument too, but I’ve already closed that chapter. The broken windows, the fixed roof. People obviously wondered who dared to take a ride in such a junk pipe. So everybody was satring at us as if we just got beamed down straight from the Planet of the Apes. Who else would willingly pay for a fare in this rolling tomb? But as we got closer they let us through anyhow.
Of course some threw jokes like: “Folks from the country on a day-trip, huh? Seen the zoo yet?”
As I turned to answer whoever had said that, they all kept silent.
Bad jokes, stupid people. We didn’t care. As soon as we were all inside we drove off straight to Venice and left the onlookers staring after us in a cloud of blue smoke.
“Is that a gun in your pocket, or are you just glad to see me, Mae West in Peel me a Grape, 1975,” Quote said walking up to me as if on high heels while holding onto Sarge for balance. All in full battle dress! They were so funny everybody laughed out loud. They’d stayed inside their hiding place all the time and as far as I could tell, nobody had seen them.
I opened a window to let in some air. The cool wind blowing in my face made me feel good as it chased away the city’s stench. I could tell Spooky also loved the fresh air the way he looked up from Nudjia’s lap.
We were all so excited about what might be lying ahead that everybody blabbered about what we observed during the ride. I wouldn’t want to go as far as to say I’d started loving the city but there was so much to see. L.A. to me seemed like a huge magnet pulling the strangest people from all around the world right into the middle of its heart. What you made of it once you were inside was up to you. It was particularly striking as we drove by the beach. Bodybuilders with pumped up muscles like young Arnie in Conan the Barbarian, card-readers, a guy on skates playing his guitar, the amp on his back, rich ladies with pink doggies, babes with boobs, real and fakes in all kinds of sizes. Long live vanity.
As I watched all those people playing their show I couldn’t help but think of a book I devoured as a boy about ancient Rome. I was fascinated by its culture, the architecture, the sculptures, murals, everything. But that was just a boy’s first impression. At the time I didn’t know anything about the endless wars, the corruption, all the great civilizations (f.e. the Etruscan) they had destroyed so they could grow. Then, as I began delving deeper and deeper into Rome’s history and read about how its citizens grew wealthier and greedier and with that shaped their own downfall, I began to see the beauty from another perspective and got to know the fowl taste that came with it. I tried imagining the people who’d lived in Caligula’s or Nero’s times for instance. Life of the individual was worth less than nothing. No matter how high up the ladder of society you went, you could be accused of and killed for treason any second. At first sight everything looked wonderful, that is, if you belonged to the upper class. Parties, banquets, games and music everywhere, with the wildest ingredients in abandon. But at the same time, while you were stuffing your cheeks with the most delicious of fruits or enjoying some other worldly pleasure, you constantly had to pay attention to the others around you, who, just at the very moment, might be sawing at the feet of the very divan you were dining on.
I was shaken from my daydream by Nudjia pointing at a set of condominiums. We had arrived, Ocean Front Walk. Louis parked the bus next to the building’s side entrance. Speaking of Rome, this house looked like a mixture of modern concrete and steel architecture designed by some trendy architect, yet with a touch of Roman style. Not because of its lines or structures, nor its colors. It was most of all the classic appearance that reminded me of Rome’s beauty. I couldn’t pin it to anything in particular, just a feeling in my guts.
But it was definitely a wonderful building. Also the view of the beach was amazing. Nothing but ocean as far as I could see. Just waves, the sky, some clouds and the sun. No words can ever describe what I felt that moment.
We got out and walked over to the entrance. Louis pushed the buzzer next to a nameplate that read: H. Takayama. It sounded nice. The front door, simply a huge piece of glass as thick as my hand, opened with a silent whoosh. With Sarge and Quote in our midst to keep them out of sight, we entered the building. There was an elevator with late medieval trompd’oeil painting on its walls - I learned about architecture from the Italian history books I devoured as a kid. They used to be Grandpa’s but since he passed away I was the only one who took any notice of the family treasure.
Because the man lived on the first floor we took the stairs.
“Welcome, my fliends,” he said grinning over both ears as we arrived at his door.
He could have been an uncle of Who, a bit taller – and with hair. Sorry, just joking. To me Asians do differ from penguins. They don’t all look alike. Some look different. But they do smile a lot. This one smiled probably more than all Chinatown’s chefs combined. His smile was even bigger than his face. It practically crawled into the wall he was leaning on. He really was very friendly.
“Come, please do entel my humble appaltment. Can I get you anything to dlink?”
Humble was definitely an understatement. The living room and its window were as wide as the ocean. He opened the window to the side and showed us onto his balcony which was so large it even had a small stone garden. The view took our breath away. From up  here it even hit you harder than before. I felt like living a dream. We just watched the ocean in silence for several minutes.
Then, after having sucked in the magic for a while, we reentered the living room.
This guy definitely had taste. The dining table was just a single piece of polished dark wood, not round or square but in its original shape, put on four rather short black feet. It had chairs only on the wall’s side so that, sitting there you could fall asleep while watching the ocean. The walls to the table’s side ends were clad with drapes in different shades of red. The wall with the chairs had a huge abstract painting in red and mauve. Probably very expensive. Sarge and Quote kept to the back of the room to avoid being seen from outside.
The man himself was humble, though. Entirely dressed in loose black cotton he almost looked like a priest. He handed us each a plate with a colorful drink. Next to the glass was a small bowl with funny looking nuts. Tasted great though.
After a bit of small talk, he showed us to the rooms. We had to decide for ourselves which one to take.
“Thele’s just this one loom I ask you not to use. It’s whele I keep my instluments.“
An almost magical smell of wood escaped the room as he opened the door. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Not only was there a grand piano in the middle, overlooking the ocean of course, but also a collection of seven to eight cellos standing to the wooden wall. Thin drapes kept out direct sunlight.
“Please take cale to keep the dool shut. My instluments need a constant level of humidity and tempelatule,” mister Takayama said grinning as in apology.
„I have been told that Wagner’s music is better than it sounds, Bill Nye in Mark Twain, Autobiography 1924,” Quote said.
“Ha ha ha,” mister Takayama shot back. “Good joke. I don’t palticulally like Wagnel eithel.”
There were two separate bathrooms, each in pale marble with huge mirrors over the twin sinks. The shower floor was filled with loose small stones for instant foot-massage. Spooky will probably have his fun hopping over the stones.
A suitcase stood waiting next to the entrance.
“I wish you a pleasant stay in my home. The cleaning lady comes once a week and it might be that my sistel, who is in the middle of the painful plocess of divolce, comes to visit fol a day ol two. Fol the lest you’le on youl own. If you have any questions, you can always leach me on my mobile phone ol ask the concielge - he lives next dool.”
“We don’t know how to thank you for this great a gift,” Louis said. “We will take care of your apartment as if it were our own. Thank you dear friend, thank you very much!”
“You’ll welcome,“ he said and a second later he was gone.
We all waved from the balcony as we watched the taxi speed around the corner.

It was all so incredible we needed a moment to let things sink in.
When we were done we went to fetch our stuff from the bus. Sarge and Quote stayed upstairs. We’d agreed to leave the guns in the trunk. They were much too heavy anyway. Nobody would take the trouble and break into our bus. Of course everyone was anxious to know who’d get the room with the view. Once back inside we dropped our bags by the door and waited for Louis to make the decision for us.
As he entered the apartment and saw us standing there, he burst out laughing and said: “You probably won’t mind if I take it?”
“O.k., no problem, I know you guys,” he said. “Everyone wants it. Here’s what we’ll do.”
He took some broken chopsticks from the kitchen table and cut all except one in even pieces.
“Here you go, pick one,” he said, offering Lucy the first choice. “Whoever gets the short one is the winner.”
Nudjia was last in line and guess what, she picked it. Man, she was happy.
She instantly threw herself onto Louis and dangling from his neck said: “Thank you Louis, thank you.”
“Hey pretty girl, don’t thank me, thank luck. Besides, I think you really deserve it.”
He was so right. After all that she’d been through it was time she had a special treat. Not that I’d forgotten about her misery, but it was over now, so I sort of locked it away. I prefer to hold on to the good times only. Mark and Lucy, Tiko, everyone congratulated her on the room. Nobody was jealous, not even Lucy.
She said: “You know what Nudjia, if not you, I really don’t know who else would have deserved that room. Honestly, I’m very happy you got it.”
But the other ones were beautiful too. Everybody was more than happy with what they got. We agreed to meet outside half an hour later so that we would all have enough time to put away our things and to wash up a bit.
“Come with me loverr,” Nudjia said as she took me by the hand and pulled me into the room. We lay down on the bed and just watched the ocean. The rythm of the sea made me want to fall asleep.
Lucy’s knocking ripped us out of the daydream: “Time to go shopping,” she sang.
The others were already waiting by the bus. Lucy had made a list. We needed everything. Fruit, vegetables, bread, cheese, water, wine, flour, eggs, oil, milk, cereals, coffee, the whole shebang. Louis drove us to a nearby mall. Running through the supermarket and emptying the shelves took us over an hour. In the end we had four carts filled with groceries. We also bought two cheap summer suits for Sarge and Quote. Anything was better than those uniforms they were wearing all the time. Also they desperately needed to be cleaned, the uniforms I mean. A good reason to persuade them to change into something different!

As we returned with all the groceries Lucy instantly started to make dinner. Did I ever mention she is the undisputed queen of pasta? Well, she is. Simply the best. From the moment she was able to stand on her own two feet she clung to Mom in the kitchen and helped out. With that good a teacher you get to learn each and every day.  As to me, I’d always prefered  the ice-cream parlor.
So there she was, doing what she does best: Pasta. First she put all the ingredients for the dough in a huge pot.
Then she called for help: “Hey Mark and Tiko, come give me a hand.”
“You want us to knead the dough?” Mark asked.
“Yeah. First take the wooden roller to flatten it and then use the noodle machine we just bought to make the ravioli. Don’t worry, it’s easy. You’ll see. And take your time. No need to rush. I still have to prepare the filling, o.k.?”
Wow, I thought, she bought a machine. That means we’re having pasta every day.
While Mark and Tiko started kneading, Lucy took care of the filling. She took a strong cheese, cut it into small pieces and mixed them with cut olives, basil and a bit of spinach. When she was done with that she started the sauce. A kilo of small tomatoes, more fresh basil, thyme, red onions, champignons. Just the look of all the vegetables made my mouth water.
“Is there something I can do?” I asked her.
“Yeah, sure Damon. You can chop the onions, but take care to make it thin slices, o.k.?”
“Sure, whatever you say, Lucy.”
The kitchen was hers. Like I said, she was the best and I would never dream of questioning her.
Spooky sat next to the trash-can, carefully eyeing our every move, waiting for whatever missed its gaping hole.
Nudjia took care of arranging the table while I, after having finished slicing the onions, opened a few bottles of wine. Then I used the empty noodle machine carton to build Spooky a new home. I put it near the terrace door so he could have the sun shining on his head whenever he wanted to. Louis had already taken a seat at the table’s end so he could oversee the action. But he was so tired he fell asleep soon after. I was surprised he’d held on that long. Anyone else would have collapsed long before that. His everlasting energy flow made me respect him even more.
But still I decided to wake him when Lucy was finished. You simply can’t let her pasta pass you by.
It was a wonderful evening. The meal was delicious and we ate, talked and laughed until way past midnight. I needn’t tell you that we slept like bears during wintertime.
The sun bursting through the drapes awoke me around nine. I got up. Careful not to disturb Nudjia, I took a quick shower, dressed, kissed Spooky on the nose, gave him  something to eat and went out to the sea. The water was calmer than the day before. And there were a lot less people around. A few were out swimming and further down some early-birds were getting ready for their baking session, leaving me enough space to think, relax and enjoy the silence. I’ve always loved the sound of the waves. I even taped it once back in Italy, when I visited Granny. It’s like a calming circle of song and motion, almost putting me in a trance. Sometimes it even frees me of my thoughts. The only sound being the never ending rhythm of the waves.