WestNorthEast: Hotel California I

It all started in Ithaca, NY, again. We saddled the exaggerate four-wheeled consumer, a nice Chrysler 300 got at the rental for the price of a Chevy Aveo. Their mistake. Our excitement until we reached the gas station. Yes, it is a sponge. Passed Rochester (because all the roads get to Rochester), we headed to Buffalo to see the famous Niagara Falls. More casually than on purpose, I've started my collection of Hard Rock Cafe T-shirts. Hard Rock Cafe Niagara Falls - checked. Sadly, the one on the Canadian side was closed. Canada, where they use the metric system. Anyway, to get back to the USA as a pedestrian, you have to pay. 50 cents, but still it felt awkward.
After a night in Rochester and a slight cardiac arrest when we discovered that there is another Rochester in Minnesota somewhere, we got to the plane for Los Angeles, passing through Chicago. I am deeply grateful to the unknown lady at the check in desk in Rochester for helping our confused minds to get to the west coast!

Christmas dinner at Janice's house, hugging people I've met only a month before, but that already feel like a family. The stroll on Hollywood Boulevard in the morning, realizing that the glittering advertised life in L.A. begins in mid-day. In the morning the real inhabitants are out, the people pushed on the margins, homeless shaving his proud reflection in the shop window of an exclusive store, an old lady dragging all her belongings in a cart, crossing head-high Sunset Boulevard. Ghost of a lost dream. And then they disappear, they fade, they blend, like in a fairy tale. Replaced by cameras, flip flops, sunglasses and tourist curiosity. The drive on unpaved Mulholland Dr seems surreal, an almost peaceful corner to rest for a moment, over the endless L.A. lights.