After getting over the feeling that we were going to get mugged and or shot at any moment, we really warmed to Los Angeles. We stayed in a Hollywood hostel whose claim to fame is that a Swedish backpacker guest hooked up with Paris Hilton. From the subway station to the hostel, we walked on stars with celebrities' names inside them, passed stripper shops for all your exotic dancing needs and mannequins with over-sized breasts. This photo, taken at the famous outdoor gym "Muscle Beach", explains why Venice Beach seemed like a steroid version of Baywatch. After two hours driving around Beverly Hills and Bel Air, on the laziest paparazzi-wannabe tour hunting for celebrities, the most famous LA resident we spotted was Jennifer Anniston's dog. We walked down Rodeo Drive with all the other tourists who can’t afford to buy anything, watched the LA Dodgers get smashed by the Atlanta Braves and stood in Matt Damon’s shoes (well, his footprints anyway). And after four days, apparently we inhaled the equivalent of 8 packets of cigarettes each from the pollution. Now that’s a nice welcome to the United States.
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