A Glorious Lack of Depth: Ten Reasons I Love LA

Indeed! Save it!

I often get asked why I love LA, and I can never answer them with a proper, well-constructed sentence that makes much sense. But - deep breath - I'll try.

In cities like New York, Berlin and Paris culture and change is happening all around you, everywhere you look you can actually see ideas and art and magic swirling up and down the streets of the Lower East Side, Kreuzberg and Montparnasse. In LA there is no equivalent - it's almost as if you can sense that things are going on amongst the empty streets and convoluted neighbourhoods but.... you're not invited to them.

I, as you may have guessed, am back in LA. Just for a short visit before the Olympics (more on those in the next few days) to save S from the boredom and loneliness that three weeks in the City of Angels can inflict on a person who works 14 hours a day and knows few people. I am always happy to head back here for the following reasons:

The Vista - one of the grand old movie theatres in LA.

The Frolic and Pantages - some of my favourite neon in the city.

1) Neon lights!

Never in the history of man has a city been festooned with as many interesting and unique flashing neon lights. The history of this tumultuous city can be traced through the glitz and glamour of its signs - everything from historic movie theatres, fast food joints and even the Denny's have ornate and wacky signage that scream of the 1950's.

Meet George Jetson...

2) Mid-century modern architecture

Driving through LA one catches glimpses of the city as it was in the 1930's and 1940's when the art deco of the day was slowly switching into something more futuristic and modern and kind of kidney shaped pool-ish. Otherwise unassuming busineses have original 1950's signage and design that has disappeared in other cities and I am absolutely smitten with the sight of it. S's office is located right near the iconic Capitol Records building at Hollywood and Vine and I never tire of seeing it poke out behind the W Hotel and the Pantages Theatre - it makes me feel like I should pop over to the Brown Derby or Musso and Frank's for a whiskey sour or some other equally old-timey sounding drink.

Looks like a family restaurant on the outside, is actually a scary dive bar on the inside.

3) Dive Bars

Has there ever been a sweeter sounding combination of 2 words?

LA is the penultimate home of the dive bar - all kinds, in fact. I don't wanna go too far into the different types I have identified because one day I will want to dedicate a whole post, but I will break it down:
The RocknRoll Dive Bar - Rainbow Bar and Grille (where all those Guns and Roses videos were filmed) the Cat Club (a metal bar where Ron Jeremy hangs out) and the Whiskey a Go-Go (every famous musical act of the sixties played here - most notably the Doors)
The Strip Club Dive Bar- No, not typical strip club where pathetic men come to sadly drool over unattainable women. LA is home to nudie bars that sell sex in a tattooed, punk rock sort of way. Head to Jumbo's Clown Room, where Courtney Love famously stripped (and you can see amputees whirling around the poles) or to Cheetah's where hipsters go to stare lazily at girls that look like them.
The Airport Lounge/Seventies Feel Dive Bar - The ultimate win in this category is the Dresden on Vermont, where you can watch the legendary Marty and Elayne, who have been described as "either tone deaf or brilliant, depending on your taste" by the LA Times. The duo have perfectly coiffed black hair, are in their sixties or seventies and sing the best lounge music in the city. And she plays the flute. Heaven. The Frolic Room on Hollywood is a contender here as well...
The Actual Dirty Dive Bar - We live right near two - Ye Rustic Inn and The Drawing Room. Apparently these used to be a bit rougher, but hipsters have moved in and things are getting pretty ironic inside.

Speechless with cheese.

4) Mexican food

Oh. Oh man. Just give me some fucking enchiladas covered in cheese and guacamole and I am, like, so happy I could die. There is something different about Mexicali food from Tex Mex, authentic Mexican or the crap that we get here in Canada - I am not sure exactly what it is, but it makes me squirm with happiness as I actually moan the sound "mmmmmmmm" with each hot, gooey, molten messy mouthful. My most favouritest place in LA for Mexican is called El Chavo (on Sunset) - it is a complete ode to kitsch, complete with a huge signed photo of Dolly Parton. They also make the stiffest, saltiest lime margaritas (shaken, never blended) and the spiciest salsa and everything else is like heaven. Oh Dios Mio!

My idea of a perfect night out: Tiki Ti, El Chavo and back to the Tiki Ti.
You put the lime in the coconut and I don't care what else as long as there is melted cheese involved.

(It's also right next to the Tiki Ti - the first Tiki bar outside of Hawaii and one of my other favourite places!)

Lowbrow art at Wacko, a bizarre emporium of trash found in the bible...

5) LA Bizarro

Feel like visiting LA's largest celebrity cemetary? Hearing a Thai Elvis serenade you while you eat Tom Yum Soup? Going to see the world's first anal bleaching salon? Fashion taxidermy? Mexican wrestler burlesque show? Dodgy psychics, Korean bathhouses and more Hollywood suicide/muder sites than you can shake a stick at? It's all in the bible - I mean, LA Bizarro. I love this book so much that I wish more than anything that I had had a hand in writing it. And researching it. Well, except the anal bleaching. Yikes.

We spent a lovely day near the sign up at the Griffith Observatory.

6) The Sign

Before there was Hollywood, there was Hollywoodland. The sign was first erected in 1923 as an ad for a housing development, but soon became beacon of hope and glitter for all of the actors and actresses arriving in town with stars in their eyes. But, slowly throughout the next fifty years it fell to disrepair until 1978 when, amidst talk that the sign would be pulled down a consortium of celebrities led by Hugh Hefner (!) raised the money to save the historic symbol. There are days that I am just wandering around West Hollywood, and when I randomly look up and see the towering white letters staring down at me from Cahuenga Peak and my life suddenly feels very surreal.

The sign is facing new a new controversy, as it is currently covered up with a new message to "Save The Peak" (see the first picture, above.) Apparently some assholes want to but the 130 acres that the sign sits on and turn it into six (yes, you heard me - SIX) mega giant houses (the kind that assholes like to live in.) The group is collecting money to buy the land and conserve it permanently. Shouldn't the city be doing this? The National Historical Landmark Society? Hefner? Someone search the grotto, where's Hef!?

Laura Dern is the best living American actress.

7) FILM

The fact that I am a film junkie is probably the main reason that I want to move to Los Angeles. To be surrounded everyday by film history and work in the industry is kind of my idea of heaven. While I love foreign and arthouse cinema, the glitz and glamour of Tinseltown still appeals to me in an Old Hollywood way.

As for the present, I feel that there are two modern directors who truly understand LA - David Lynch and Quentin Tarantino.

It is in LA that I feel like I have been plunged into the bizarre celulloid dreams of Mister Lynch and I start to see The City of Angels with his skewed, hallucinogenic eye. From Laura Dern collapsing all covered in blood on Hollywood Boulevard in Inland Empire to Naomi Watts frantic evening at Club Silencio in Mulholland Drive, Lynch understands something convoluted and sadistic about Hell Lay that he conveys in his puzzle-like films.

2006 - first visit to Roscoe's. Hungover & shaking, I ate waffles and fried chicken all covered in syrup & I wore mah pearls just for Roscoe.

Tarantino, on the other hand, understands something completely different about the city. His LA is somehow suspended in an ideal, highly stylized late seventies/early eighties era and is filled with wise-cracking retro archetypes. When I watch Pulp Fiction and Jackie Brown I can practically smell the mix of Banana Boat tanning oil, Camel cigarettes, cognac and strawberry incense that I know these locations must just reek of. The first time I went to Roscoe's Chicken and Waffles in West Hollywood I looked around at the wood-paneled walls and exclaimed "it's like Jackie Brown!" There are so many dim airport lounge/red velvet walled steakhouse-like bars around LA that I pretty much always have at least one night each visit where I feel like I'm out with Ordell....

Me and Harry Perry on Venice Beach. I first saw him in the film "The Gift" and it was a dream to meet him. He sang to me and made uncomfortable eye contact.

8) Weirdos

Nowhere - nowhere - that I have ever been has a better array of weirdos, freaks and misfits than LA. Especially in Hollywood and Venice. Harry Perry, Lemmy, Angelyne - what would the world be without strange creatures? Oh. It would be Ohio. Have I said I love big cities?

Like the Philippines, its just filled with American fast food restaurants...

9) The Ethnic Neighbourhoods

Sure, Vancouver has a big Chinatown (the second largest in North America, in fact) and a huge Little India and even a Koreatown - but that is about it. Little Italy got swallowed by the hippies, Greektown became a Kitsilano yuppie breeding ground and Robsonstrasse said goodbye to the Germans and hello to Vuitton and Coach. For a city that is so ethnically diverse, our neighbourhoods are a bit bland in this regard.

Not so much in LA. Little Armenia. Historic Filipinotown. Thai Town. Little Russia. I drove past a clutch of Kazakhstani restaurants the other day! Lao areas, African enclaves and a whole lotta Mexicans - they say America is a melting pot and Canada a multicultural society, but I am sorry: LA is so much more interestingly diverse than Vancouver. By far. And this week I am finally going to go and try some Belorussian food. They have an entire area here!

The famous and historic Roosevelt on Hollywood Blvd. More celebrities have stayed here than you can even imagine.

10) Pop Culture

So, if cities were people, New York (America's centre for high culture) would be a tall, emaciated European woman with impeccably groomed eyebrows and a beret. LA, America's trashy cocaine-addled heart, would be a towering trannie on acid. Who would you rather hang out with?

I get in this argument all the time when people find out that I am an unabashed pop culture whore. There are always humourless people who want to call me out and attempt to look down their noses at me for daring to pull my eyes away from Tolstoy for long enough to log onto Perez Hilton, but I am always ready for them. I was once at a party, telling some anecdote that involved Lindsay Lohan. A studious looking girl stared up at me and solemnly claimed "Oh, I don't actually know who Lindsay Lohan is." I paused for a moment and, regarding her with utter contempt, replied "Well, either you're the most boring person I have ever met, or you're a liar. It's a mix of high culture and low culture that makes someone interesting to talk to." I stand by that wholeheartedly.

The history here is fascinating and rich and in a lot of ways it's the history of our culture, because Hollywood holds a mirror up to our society and reflects what it sees. Anyone who dismisses that and claims to be somehow above it is probably a pill. That's not to say Hollywood isn't shallow - but what a glorious lack of depth!

And so I love to read my celebrity news in the mornings and recognize bars, restaurants and shops that are literally down the street. I love knowing that I will run into someone famous at least once a day. I love the maddeningly spread out neighbourhoods and the feeling that I am transported back to the forties when I turn certain corners. And I love LA. I just really do.

Loving Liberace, loving life, loving LA. 2006

The Exotic and the Mundane.

Religious candles? Mundane. Tiny Tim, Lucille Ball, Little Richard and Dali? Exotic.

In one week I have to get a job. And find an apartment. And register for classes. And basically be expected to behave in a way more suited to a grown woman.

Oh my god.

I have lived the last year of my life like a vagabond – no responsibilities, no permanent address, no job – and it has been awesome. In less than one week I will return to Vancouver and head straight back into boring old routine.

In a way I am secretly thrilled at this prospect.

While it may seem boring and mundane, I think that at least for the first three months I will be intoxicated by the blasé, aroused by the most basic household tasks and perfectly content to go to classes, write in my free time and eat, drink and be merry (literally, it will be the Christmas season) with my friends.

Given long enough away, the exotic and the mundane switch places.

Until the itch comes back, that is. Months after returning home I will inevitably start planning my next long trip, as well as a myriad of mini breaks and small get aways. I am addicted to travel.

But for now I am just keen to go home and wash some dishes, pet the cats and cook for S.

Who wants supper?

(Don't worry, dear readers.... though I am going home I have about a billion experiences and a ton of photos I have yet to post, plus all of the experiences I will have in Vancouver (Sushi! Winter Olympics! My Favourite Neighbourhoods! Seedy Nightlife & Dive Bars! Stuff I Cook! Stuff I Eat! S Looking Cute!) See - don't be sad. In the immortal words of Karen Carpenter, "We've....

This is one of two apartment buildings in LA owned by the Carpenter siblings in the seventies and named after their hits. "Close to You" is next door. I bet you wish I was kidding....

The "Eh" in Medicare

An Aussie and a Canuck react in horror to some pretty rightwing ideas on US Heath care.

The caricature of 'socialized medicine' is used by corporate interests to confuse Americans and maintain their bottom lines instead of patients' health.
-Michael M Rachlis in The LA Times

Courage, my friends; 'tis not too late to build a better world.
- Tommy Douglas

So I'm Canadian. Despite the minor ambiguities of cultural and social identity that arise from my nationality it's a pretty damn good thing to be. Like if I had to choose again - no problem, Canadian all the way, thanks, gimme my unicorn festooned passport and away I'll go.

Being a Canadian around Americans has always been a mix of fun and good humoured irritation. The irritation comes from constantly having to explain that no, we don't like in igloos (although sometimes to fuck with them I will play along and talk about Flossie, my sleddog) and yes, we have large cosmopolitan cities with millions of people and no, I don't say 'eh' (except when around other Canucks who have thick accents - it rubs off) and wow, it is amazing that I sound like I am from the West Coast (because I AM, bozo.)

One point that Americans I've met have always been educated to some degree about is Canada's healthcare - at least enough to know that we have it and they want it. Even if they didn't have any idea that a good chunk of their famous people are, in fact, Canucks (here is a nifty list) they absolutely knew about our free medicine. Yep - we pay more taxes in Canada, yes we are all a bunch of liberal, swingin' sixties pinko commie bleeding hearts and yes it is minus forty Celsius in Winnipeg in the winter (I've been there, crying icy tears on Portage Ave) but we have free universal healthcare that everyone has equal access to. Hallelujah and Amen, brothers and sisters.

But lately something has changed. And I know what it is.

American cable news is pretty effin predictable - and it is the best indicator of the next shifty move of the government. The news is slanted in a way that appeals to the uneducated lowest common denominator by scaring the shit out of them.
"Ma, someone on the teevee says Iran is bad."
"Ma, someone on the teevee done say that Iran hates America and personally hates m'freedoms!"
"Ma, someone on the teevee says that Iran's gonna 9/11 us!"
"Ma, we gots ta go killify Iran!"
And so on.

Network news is simply another arm of the government spin-machine. It serves as a warning bell of the next controversial action the US is gonna take. Therefore, if you hear rumblings on CNN about how 'bad' X is when X used to be 'good' that means that sometime soon X is going to be enemy number one. The subtle process of discrediting what the public should now view as bad starts early, and the rest of the world watches in horror as we see people actually fall for it.

Which brings me to how healthcare is viewed by Americans now. I had the pleasure of meeting dozens of awesome yanks in Fiji and universal medicare was the hot topic. Wasn't it true that I had to wait days for emergency care? Didn't I have access to only the most substandard doctors? Why were so many Canadians coming up to the US for care when in Canada it is free? All evidence that the CNN/Fox News/MSNBC news machine is already hard at work discrediting the Canadian system to prevent Americans from really thinking about universal healthcare as an amazing thing that would benefit everyone. They are being force fed pap about Soviet era bread queues for doctors appointments and poor quality services. As the manager at Sephora on Hollywood Blvd informed me and Lou yesterday "when I wanna go see a doctor I wanna go to mine right away - not like in Canada." We couldn't even correct his misinformation (I go to whatever doctor I want, whenever I want to- and it is free)- it was too frustrating.

I am a Canadian. What the news is telling you about our system? IT'S NOT TRUE.

An infuriating but enlightening conversation took place with two young twenty-somethings from New York. The topics ranged from immigration (they hate those illegals) to schooling (you simply must go to a private school) and of course, the giant pink elephant in the room - healthcare.
"Why should I have to pay for people who smoke and eat KFC?" Said Mr. NY.
"Well, if you think KFC is so bad why doesn't your country make it really expensive, or even illegal?"
"You can't do that! People have a right to eat what they want!"
"What about the right to not die of a heart condition? Or the right to not go millions of dollars in debt because you drew the unlucky straw and got a sick baby?" I countered.
"It doesn't work that way - healthcare is not a right!" He shouted.
"Well, in Canada it is. And I couldn't be happier."
"What prevents your doctors from rushing people through their offices, if they make less money?" I looked at him, baffled.
"It's not about money. It's about helping sick people. Somewhere along the way, the American system has forgotten that."

Listen, you won't be able to get two Canadians who agree on healthcare. Our system has flaws - some bigger than others - and it does need some measure of reform. There are even some people trying to change it into a two tiered plan (which is very un-Canadian and jerky, I say) but the basic point is that ever since Tommy Douglas (the 'the father of medicare' - a few years ago we voted him as our 'Greatest Canadian') empowered us with the notion that our lives are worth more than medical bills and exorbitant fees it has changed the social consciousness. We are worth it. We deserve it. It is a right.

On the other side of the border, those with insurance in America seem to view visits with umpteen specialists, a multitude of scans, unnecessary procedures and immediate action as a right - yet studies still show that we as Canadians are significantly healthier and more satisfied with our care. We also do not have the right to sue our doctor (the idea would never even cross my mind) so that keeps costs lower for the taxpayer - (s)he aren't weighing out potential lawsuits in their head as they treat their patient.

If you don't believe me, this article from the LA Times is what I was reading this morning in sunny Los Feliz, Hollywood that spawned this train of thought. I really love the statistic that we in Canada spend 10% of our economy on healthcare, compared to the US's spend of 16% - the huge increase in spending still leaving 50 million citizens without insurance. Human rights aside, from an economic standpoint universal healthcare makes more sense!

A brief message to the Yanks out there: Listen, guys - your 'system'? It's broke. It needs to be fixed. You are the only First World country without free healthcare. And your news is lying to you. Talk to a Canadian or Brit about what we have before you let Glenn Beck tell you how to feel and shock you with half truths and horror stories about the Healthcare bill passing in the House.

Taking care of people lesser off than you does not make you a socialist - it makes you a good person. There's a difference.

And even if you don't choose to cover all of your citizens and residents equally - well, whatever. That's your choice. But for the love of God - quit dragging Canada's system through the mud by using false information! This is not about Canada - like usual - it's about you.

See, in Canada we even have dedicated Leprosy Sections! Modern and free heath care!
(Just fucking with you - this is in India....)

PS - I just want to clarify that I do not think Americans are any more stupid than other folks - trust me, I have been all over the world and can attest to the fact that people are stupid equally everywhere.

Goodbye to the Strange (Unless You Count West Hollywood)

You can't get more LA than this - a trip 3 years ago.

So here it is. My last night in somewhere-not-North-America spent lounging on an idyllic beach in the Yasawa Islands, Fiji. The last 10 days have been the complete opposite of the past 14 months of my life – I lazed around and did next to nothing, a sharp contrast to my usual constant ethnographical explorations and arduous bus journeys. Surveying the beautiful beach spread before me, I remarked to an American pal "There's so much not to do!"

Tomorrow I head to LA, and while not home it is certainly a lot closer than anywhere else I have been. The next two weeks (which I will spend in Hell A, Palm Springs and San Francisco) are the last puny vestige of this nearly year and a half journey around, well, Asia and beyond – a Pacific Rim odyssey that has led me to places I had never even dreamt about. I must admit, this last hoorah has been a highlight – I recommend Fiji wholeheartedly.

Will I miss the strange? The unknown? The exotic, whether it is the whiff of dog meat in Vietnam, a gonging prayer bell in India or the bogan twang of a rural Aussie accent? Absolutely. But am I happy to be heading somewhere that I can get a decent taco, a kiss from S and all of the products I saw advertised on Saturday morning cartoons that weren't available in Canada? Well, yeah. That'll be good too. For a while....

So now, on to my second home of California, and you can dream, on such a Winter's Day, that you are there too....

...minus all the awkward Papa John stuff, of course.

Viva Los Angeles!

America, Uh Huh

This is a small thatch hut between Kalaw and Inle Lake, in the heart of Myanmar. Behind that calendar - yes, that is an Obama/Biden sticker.

I was in Udaipur, India during the November 2008 US elections and was traveling with 2 American girls, both with left wing politics. We were eating a nice supper on the eve of the vote when some red-nosed Scottish and British package tourists wearing Bermuda shorts and sandals with socks approached our table and eyed us suspiciously. “You Americans?” One of them asked accusatorily. I raised my hands.
“We are Canadians here.” I said, pointing to S and I.
“We are.” Sarah said politely, gesturing to Megan and herself.
“A lot of guts you've got to admit it – you better vote in Obama tomorrow.” He sneered at them in a gruff voice. “You've got a lot to explain to the resta the world for Bush – you better do the right thing tomorrow, you lot.” He tottered away and I was left aghast. If someone approached me and told me, rather demanded of me that I vote a certain way in my country's sovereign elections I would probably stand up and spit in their face. Yet Megan and Sarah sat there and just nodded.
“OK sir, we never voted for Bush – I understand. We like Obama – Go Obama.” I asked them how they could stand it. Megan answered.
“Well, a lot of people feel like they have a say in what happens because our government really meddles in a lot of things around the world that they shouldn't.” I agreed. That I understood.
“But the audacity to yell at you – that is absurd! I don't tell individual Israelis what I think, I don't get in shouting matches with Saudis and Qataris when I see a woman in a burqua – what gives someone the right to act as if you are personally to blame?” We all shrugged and went back to our meal. This was not the last time I would witness these 2 girls have to defend their home, usually from people with a taste for American music and clothing. It started me thinking.

*********************

America. The very word is enough to evoke pride, anger, fear and condescension. No nation has ever been more contentious, more powerful or more controversial than the red, white and blue. A republic of 50 states cobbled together as a social experiment, a nation of empire that vehemently denies empire building, a meddling country incapable of minding its own business that uses mind games and rhetoric on its own people. And I, the least likely supporter of the stars and stripes, am here to defend it.

Not for the reasons that you would think, either.

I am a Canadian. This means that I benefit from the good things of being North American while being able to vote in multi-party elections, visit my doctor for free for any reason (and even a therapist if I have hypochondria) and have memorized the lyrics to “God Save the Queen.” It is a good place to be, Canada, and if you can steel yourself for the freezing Winters and blistering Summers you will be rewarded with a laid back attitude, friendly neighbours and unparalleled natural beauty. But it is not....exciting.

Our movie industry, for instance, realized decades ago that it could not compete with the whizzbang excitement of Hollywood and instead began focusing on creating a quirky, arty cinema that can easily be recognized (and avoided) by all Canadians for its low budget aesthetic and ability to do really well at European Film Fests. Canadian children learn early on that if you see an NFB logo (National Film Board of Canada) you should immediately change the channel lest you be subjected to “The Log Driver's Waltz” for the tenth time. Even our authors, prolific writers like Margaret Atwood, Alice Munro, Mordecai Richler and Timothy Findley write with a sort if dull melancholy and sparse simplicity that distinguishes them around the world for being different – when in reality they are just being Canadian.

Our government protects our unique culture with 'Canadian Content laws' that require that a third of all broadcast media be Canadian – and it has to be protected from of our shiny, exciting, charismatic neighbour. He doesn't always wipe his shoes, he isn't always polite and sometimes he makes us so angry! But he is the life of the party, he's genuinely friendly and his intentions are generally good – its no wonder our citizens would rather hang out with him than their plain humble countrymen.

When it comes to all of our media needs we overwhelmingly prefer it to be American – just like the people of almost every country on this planet do.

Why do people around the world claim to hate America so much, claim to hate what it stands for and the way that they conduct themselves and get uppity and angry at the very mention of their politics - but gobble up their media like it is candy? Why can you buy American fashions in the European capitals? Why are US movies, books, TV shows and magazines the standard around the world? And music – jazz, rock n' roll, blues, country n western, rap, bluegrass, honky tonk, hip hop, heavy metal (sorry Led Zep, I know the term was coined for you, but Iggy and the Stooges beat you to the sound) were all born in the USA– who are we all trying to kid? We LOVE America. We idolize, mythologize and sexualize America.

Their Enemy Number One, Osama Bin Laden - loves Whitney Houston.
Saddam had photos of Brit Brit in his bunker.

Yet every day I meet Aussies, Europeans, Brits and yes – other Canadians who sneer and roll their eyes when the USA is mentioned (except when talking about Obama – the world's biggest crush) and then hop on their iPods and play some JayZ or watch 30 Rock. And instead of pointing this out, American travelers, when asked where they are from, quietly respond and try to downplay their nationality instead of shouting it from rooftops.

*****************

America's hypocrisy – the foisting of democracy on unwilling countries when they themselves have a voter turn out of 50%; the corrupt politics; the racism, sexism and classism inherent in its policies; the war mongering and money grubbing – is abhorrent. But then again, isn't Britain's? Wouldn't Russia be doing the same or worse if they had won the Cold War? What if Germany and Japan had won World War II – you don't think that there would be a few problems? The most powerful nation is always corrupted by its limitless power (Rome, anyone?) and while that is not a justification for their behaviour – for the graves of Iraqi civilians, the children dying of hunger in Afghanistan and the discrediting of legally elected governments whenever it is convenient– it does make me glad that it is in America's somewhat benign hands and not, let's say, Iran's.

Americans are generally friendly people with good hearts yet they are stereotyped in the world as ignorant and mean. Their country has some of the best universities and brilliant scientists, yet they still are generalized in the world as rednecks. They come from a place where it truly is possible to climb your way out from the gutter and emerge rich and famous a'la Horatio Alger, and while many people in the West deny it the numbers do not lie: ask almost any person in Asia, Africa and South America and they would say that America is where they dream of emigrating. They also happen to make media and both high (Jackson Pollock) and low (The Hills) culture that we all want to be a part of.

All of us – every person who looks down their nose at Pawdunk, Iowa and thanks their lucky stars that they are from Stockholm, Toronto or London instead – wants to be in New York for the art, the theatre, the nightclubs. We all want to dip our fingers into the gold glitter of LA and drape ourselves in New Orleans' beads. We want to ride trolleycars in San Francisco and pull on a one armed bandit in Vegas. We want to immerse ourselves in the mythical Wild West, to play Davey Crockett and Johnny Appleseed and Paul Bunyan. We want Disneyland. But if you mention America as a whole – we cringe.

People around the world who sneer and claim superiority should look no further than the Pizza Huts, Starbucks, McDonalds and Walmarts in their cities – they are there for a reason. People have voted with their dollars and they want American goods. They want coronary inducing American food. They want to watch a Hollywood Blockbuster while munching fake-buttered popcorn, popping Milkduds and swilling a Coke. They want to laugh guiltily at Family Guy and read an Archie Double Digest. This is not some crazy US plot – if the people didn't want it than it wouldn't sell. Supply and demand. And they demand America.

And what about our hypocrisy? We're not better than them -we want to be them. We want to enjoy all of their good things and then to harshly criticize them every chance we get. No wonder they get defensive! Imagine how you would feel if an Aussie was eating poutine, drinking a Molson and watching Trailer Park Boys while wearing hockey jersey - at the same time telling you that Canada is backward, boring and should be destroyed. You would want to punch them. At the very least you would laugh at their hypocrisy. But this is exactly what we do to Americans. Take a look at your closet, your laptop contents, your DVDs and concert stubs and you'll see I'm right - if I'm wrong feel free to go back to your smug feelings of superiority – you earned them.

We should never allow our admiration of their culture blind us to the truly awful things that the US government does in the name of its people, nor do I think that the rising tide of the religious right and their determination to strip away human rights is anything to look up to. But I think that we need to stop pretending that America as a whole is low-class and simple minded unless we also accept that as the people that gobble up so much of their media - we are too.

I'm surprised they don't make bigger flags.

We don't have some invisible halo of superiority just because our passport isn't from the USA - my Canadianess does not make me a better person. The same logic states that a person should not be singled out on the street or in a restaurant and told that their country is bad or that they personally have some explaining to do.

The next time you have an urge to say “I'm sorry” when someone tells you they're from the US you should really say “Thank you for all the stuff” and think about what your country has done that is so much better.

Bombs, Drugs and History

The Vietnam War and all of it brutality and ugliness continues today – in the landlocked country of Laos. I do not mean the effects of the war continue: this is not about a damaged national psyche, and I am not even referring to a mounting death toll caused by environmental or chemical hazards – the country that was the scene of the most clandestine of all of the Asian/American conflicts literally has bombs exploding daily. This is still a live battle ground, but in a very different way than you'd expect.

Laos is an achingly pretty place. Mist shrouded mountains descend into the brown rivers of the Mekong and the Nam Ou, bamboo thatches spring up on the edges of electric green rice paddies and haunting karst rock formations jut out of the land. Though it seems paternalistic and cliche to say, the people are kind, funny and deeply spiritual, almost esoteric – as a famous French saying goes “The Vietnamese plant the rice, the Cambodians watch it grow, and the Lao listen to it grow.” In the week or so we have been here the locals have been almost embarrassingly nice to us – even though we have predominantly been in backpacker enclaves along the “Banana Pancake Trail” (the cities in Asia most visited by Westerners in their 20's, and that serve comfort foods like granola and pizza, dotted with internet cafes and bars serving buckets of booze – Kathmandu, Ko Samui, Siem Reap etc.) For Lao people, this form of tourism, or any tourism for that matter, is a new sight to see – the county's borders were closed to foreigners until 1995. At that time, the restrictive form of communism that had been in power for 20 years was relaxed, and now Lao people are experiencing a third wave of colonialism that will perhaps be more insidious that the first two.

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The French strolled in over one hundred years ago and claimed Laos in the same way that they did Vietnam and Cambodia, first splitting the 3 countries into 5 pieces and then lumping them together into a region called French Indochina. But unlike its two companion states, Laos didn't get much out of the deal – highly inaccessible to the French, the journey by river from Saigon (the seat of the French government) to Luang Prabang took longer than Saigon to France by steamship. Laos gained little from the French other than the superfluous “S” tacked onto the end of its name – no railways, no grand boulevards or basic infrastructure – they just took what they wanted (opium and coffee) with little benefit to the people. While this is arguably a better deal (most Vietnamese and Cambodians would have preferred less French meddling) it did ensure that Laos would remain less developed, as they were not even permitted to use their own resources for their advancement – the resources belonged to the French.

And then we all know what happened in Vietnam. The French, fighting off the Northern “Viet Minh” (communist guerrilla soldiers threatening the more Catholic and Frenchified South with a socialist revolution, led by Ho Chi Minh and backed by the Soviet Union) were bitterly humiliated at Dien Bien Phu (wiki that one for a laugh) and left Vietnam in a hurry. The Americans – terrified that the spread of communism in South East Asia would mean a domino affect throughout all of Asia (which is ultimately kind of did) rushed in – and if you don't know the rest of that story, I don't have the space to tell you.

But Laos – sweet, pretty Laos was actually the bloodiest victim and they don't even get mentioned in the name of the war. Facing their own smaller and quieter communist revolution, this country was used as a supply route for the Ho Chi Minh Trail, and was increasingly a battleground between the Viet Cong and the US (sneaky guerrilla soldiers don't respect borders, and drew the US in and out of Laos like cats and mice.) Laos claims the dubious honour of the most heavily bombed country per capita in the history of the fucking planet – the equivalent of one planeload of bombs every eight minutes was dropped on this country for NINE FUCKING YEARS. It was razed – left black and smoking and flat - in a highly classified secret war. An American reporter at the time who was accidentally flown over Laos on the way to Thailand described it as a 'moonscape', and then was forbidden from reporting about it. No one in America knew this was happening, and after the war was over in 1974, Laos was left to try to pick up the pieces without much help, and with a newly crowned communist leader more interested in his own pockets than the plight of his poorest countrymen.

So now Laos is the poorest country in Southeast Asia by far, with World Health Organization statistics on par with Sub Saharan Africa. It is not an obvious poverty like India or even Burma, but the people in villages away from the tourists are sick, illiterate and hungry. If we get sick here, the closest hospital that we can go to for serious treatment as Westerners is in THAILAND. This poverty makes the bombs keep exploding. This poverty shreds skin and breaks bones.

You often hear about UXO's (unexploded ordinance – leftover bombs) and land mines killing children because they are mistaken for toys and wee hands can't resist picking them up when they are unearthed. I knew that education work by NGOs was focused on this problem, and I assumed that the impoverished toyless children must be momentarily overcome with excitement when they saw a shiny object and then BOOM! I thought when I first saw a small rounded 'bombi' in photos that kids must think it was a neat looking ball. I thought it must be rare and completely shocking when a child was injured.

In Laos, people are so poor that children search out and dig up unexploded bombs to sell as scrap metal.

This is not a hard thing to do. An estimated third of all bombs dropped on this country did not explode on contact. Rice paddies, villages, farms, country roads are all FULL of UXOs – most deep beneath the surface. But farmers accidentally unearth them, heavy water buffalo step on the surface and their weight causes detonations and children and adults alike collect them eagerly to sell to unscrupulous scrap metal dealers despite an official ban. Hundreds of people die each year and many more injured in a country where disability may mean you and your family go hungry. This is what I mean – this war continues every day in a real and tangible way.

Sean and I got off of the beaten backpacker track in Central Northern Laos, and headed to a town called Phonsavanh, home to one of the world's greatest unexplained mysteries – The Plain of Jars. Literally thousands of monolithic stone jars cover great swaths of land and no one has been able to proved definitively what these 2500 year old jars were used for. The scenery from Luang Prabang through the mountains was stunning, but occasionally disturbing. Small villages were inhabited by traditionally costumed hill tribe women selling fruits and embroidery – and their husbands who had semi-automatic weapons strapped to their backs.

So, it turns out I came to Phonsavanh to see the ancient jars, but left with much more of an education about UXOs than prehistory. The city hosts a MAG (Mine Awareness Group) museum, where we watched a documentary and saw pieces of UXO and bombs up close for the first time. It wasn't the last time – our guesthouse was decorated liberally with bomb casings, ammo and shrapnel, even a barbecue fashioned from a hollowed out 500 lb bomb. There is a Hmong (a Laos hill tribe) village where all of the houses are constructed of bombs – even the school bell is a UXO. Bomb craters are everywhere – most filled in and used a fish ponds, and trench lines are still clearly visible in fields. During our walk around the Jars we had to carefully follow a demarcated path – red on one side, and white on the other – stay on the white side or boom. Never had I been so aware of my footprints.

So this should be enough to terrify anyone into steering far away from any metal found buried in the ground – and indeed some villages are crippled by poverty when it becomes too dangerous on a regular basis to farm the surrounding fields. But danger begins to seem relative when your family has no food for supper and a Vietnamese trader will pay you 2000 kip (35 cents CAD) for a kilogram of metal. A 500 lb bomb can be enough to feed a family for THREE MONTHS – no wonder people are reluctant or refuse outright to call MAG or the government to report artillery found in the rice paddy – they want the chance to take it apart themselves and earn a lot of extra money. Children gather around, are curious about the process and are then shown by example that bombs are really nothing to be afraid of. MAG does entire presentations for local kids and pleads with them to never ever touch a bombi, the children nod excitedly and swear that they never will – only to innocently present the MAG workers with bombis (and worse) minutes later. With millions of pounds of explosives still planted shallowly beneath the surface of Laos the problem can only get worse.

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Tourism is one industry that is thriving, and that seems like an answer to at least some of the poverty in Laos. After the tsunami in 2004 devastated a lot of Southern Thailand's beaches, Laos became the next party stop on the map, with towns like Vang Vieng transforming into a Mekong river playground packed full of pizzerias, bars showing Friends 24/7 and bikinied girls puking in the gutters after a long day of tubing and 'happy shakes'. And while this behaviour is filling some local pockets with the profits from overpriced bags of Lay's potato chips imported from Thailand, it also is deeply offensive to the traditional social mores of this country. While horrified Lao people look on, young Westerners engage in behaviour that runs the gamut from mildly distasteful all the way to willfully ignorant, pretending that this is in fact Southern Thailand and not conservative Laos. Frankly, I don't think that most of them would care even if a Lao person pointed this out.

Luang Prabang is a good example of this new colonialism. While Vang Vieng has been created as an intentional stop on the party circuit, beautiful, historical Luang Prabang is an ancient capital city with over 60 temples and monastery, and is a UNESCO world heritage site. Its location halfway between the most common backpacker border crossing in the North and Vang Vieng has made it a requisite stop on the circuit, yet most of the people we met there were not interested in seeing the beautiful Wats and the great museum or Royal Palace. Despite signs everywhere reminding people that this is not Vang Vieng and to please be respectful, partiers rage on all night, heading to illegal afterhours and river parties. The penalty doled out to a local caught dealing drugs is death, and the production and consumption of opium is destroying small villages, sapping more and more people of their motivation and hanging the heavy weight of addiction around their necks. Yet spoiled backpackers laze around smoking opium, oblivious to the exploitative and one sided nature of encouraging the drug trade in a poor country where hope is in short supply yet poppies are everywhere. We get to go home and leave the problems behind, like we always do.

This is a relentless 24 hour tourism, because as these backpackers stumble to bed, eager Japanese and Western tourists are just getting up to watch the procession of monks receiving morning alms. Again, despite posters and literature pleading people to stand back quietly and allow the locals to give alms in peace, Sean witnessed people shoving flashing cameras in monk's faces, trying to get the perfect shot in the pre-dawn light. People jostled and pushed and shoved as if this was a parade and not a solemn religious ceremony, and made a mockery of the ritual by trying to simultaneously offer food and take photos, ignoring the signs posted everywhere asking people not to do so. Sean came back to bed in a state of disgust.

This is all in a deeply spiritual and meaningful city for Lao people, people who would probably like to tell us to “Fuck Off,” go home and leave their country alone for once, but who need our precious American dollars to buy food for their families. Like the decision to take apart dangerous live bombs, the decision to deal drugs to tourists or the 'decision' to do anything that is made under the duress of crippling poverty, this is structured choice. That is to say, there is not really any real choice involved.

While we all play a part in this, it is the Americans who irritate me the most. Many are here as part of package tour groups (though it is a ridiculously easy country to travel in) and pronounce the country “Louse” or “Lay- oss” - if they even know that much. I witnessed a girl talking on the phone to her mother and drawling “Um, I dunno what city I'm in. L-U something? It doesn't really matter....” They, like all people, LOVE Laos for its easygoing and sweet nature, but it hasn't really cottoned for them that the reason this country is as poor as it is is BECAUSE OF THEM. They don't leave the tourist ghettos to go see the real damage that they caused, the limbless children and endless bomb craters, the spoiled farmland and drunk old men. They're all about the party, man. They stay on the party circuit and sit and smoke opium with drug dealers desperate to sell to them to support their own habits, eat manufactured tourist food in video cafes and then claim to have seen the 'real Laos' and have communed with locals. All the while, I can't help but see images of the war everywhere, the war that they desperately pretend did not happen here - if they even know about it at all.

Almost adding insult to injury is how genuinely nice Lao people are – they do not judge us as Westerners even though they have every right to. They do not all make the connection between our bulging fists of dollars and the erosion of Lao culture, between the poverty that drives them to risk explosion and death and our extreme wealth. If they too believe America, not MAG or Laos, should be paying to disarm all of these UXOs then they do not mention it to us. But it is true – the United States should have been held accountable by the World Court and forced to foot the entire bill long ago. Lao people were not combatants in the war – Laos was a sovereign nation attacked immorally and illegally and they are still attacked daily – by poverty and the bombs it helps unearth.