Janey Godley: World of contradictions where Five-o say smoking's a no-no

Published on Sunday 25 January 2009 19:54

DURING my recent trip to LA, I went to Venice Beach. If you took the gritty, maverick side of London's Soho, a smidgen of Amsterdam's coffee houses and a soupçon of Camden Market, whisked them altogether with some high-jinkery, medicinal marijuana and full-on sunshine, then Venice Beach is what would emerge from that hotpot.

There is a subculture in Venice Beach. It's a bit like a layer cake. The top is all decorative, expensively hand-finished and funky but, at the very bottom of that sweet alcohol-soaked sponge, are the homeless, the mentally affected and the Californian beach burn-outs.

The police and local homeowners are desperate to dispose of the pill-popping, hashish-smoking, beer-drinking bongo-dancers, but it is those very people who make Venice so bohemian and hedonistic. Without them, it's just a bunch of rich queens, spoiled dogs and a few long-haired rich folk who recall The Eagles before they were famous.

I made friends with Talon and Puck, two homeless beach dudes. Puck honed wooden varnished walking sticks from driftwood and Talon made toy cars, and they sold them on the concrete boardwalk.

Two lessons were quickly learned by this nave Glasgow lass.

One: you can buy any drug from a man dressed in a long, black coat (like The Matrix bloke) on a bike, but don't ever smoke a cigarette on the grass at the boardwalk, as that can get you a $170 fine from a cop.

Two: learn quickly, when someone shouts the words "Five-O", that the police are coming.

"Five-O" was shouted about three times and all the sunburnt guys sidled on to the pavement, giving me sympathetic looks as an LA cop caught me and screamed at me for smoking on the grass.

"Look, mate, people are smoking crack over there. Men are buying dope, two people are practically having full-on sex, a transvestite is hustling a woman in a wheelchair but, if I smoke a ciggie on the grass, suddenly I am offensive?"

He let me off after I apologised.

The local shopkeepers sell a beer called Joose, which is neatly disguised in a big colourful can and looks like a fizzy drink, but it contains 10 per cent alcohol and is only $3 a can, which keeps the boozers well-oiled.

The sun beat down on Venice but, as it set, a cloak of menace descended on the place and it did get rather seedy. The boys made me leave at 6pm, making me promise never to return when it was dark.

Venice Beach was a real eye-opener to me; the guys were so welcoming and I will truly miss Talon and Puck, my tour guides for the weekend.

We sold outta Compton, sorry

MY DAUGHTER Ashley had begged me to get her hip-hop gear in LA and it did lead me into some trouble. She wanted clothing with the name "Compton" on it.

Now, I didn't know that it was a name representing an area of LA associated with gangs and ignites all sorts of problems when mentioned out loud in certain shops. It's a bit like going into the Pope's office and asking for a King Billy tattoo: you basically have to know where to look before searching for the stuff – and I didn't know where to ask. Finally I managed to get a hat with Compton on it, but that was after being shouted out of at least five stores in Downtown LA. Young men actually shoved me about in one shop. That's the last time I go shopping for her. She can go get assaulted herself in future.

Lilac and rose walls? No, I don't need to see a psychiatrist

I WAS excited to get home and see my newly decorated living room. Strangely, Ashley and her dad stuck to the colour scheme I had insisted upon and I now have a very pale lilac and dark rose lounge. The downside is that Ashley says it resembles a psychiatric hospital ward and she feels compelled to tell all her deepest thoughts the minute she lies on the couch.

The upside is that I get to sit in the room alone until the grumpy family finally concede defeat and join me. Until then, I will spout my secret desires to the calming walls and comforting woodwork.

• www.janeygodley.co.uk