Buy Me A Star On The Boulevard (Auckland / Los Angeles)

'All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.' Following Gandalf's wisdom, I contemplate what to do with my last month of remaining travel time. I find myself at a point in my journey where there is no right or wrong anymore. It feels just right to spend December until Christmas in the USA and take the train from Los Angeles to New York. Since I am already close coming from Fiji, and most transatlantic flights go via Australia and New Zealand, I will take a two-day stop in Auckland to make my Lord of the Rings nerd heart happy and visit the filming location Hobbiton from the movies.

The driver on our tour to the Shire is named Dean, two hours south of Auckland. Until recently, he was a stunt driver and coordinator in New Zealand's film industry and tells me before the guided tour begins about his time 'in the industry'. He observes an increasing trend where directors, actors, and production heads defy better knowledge and impose their will over the expertise of individual film departments. He shares an anecdote about the filming of 'The Last Samurai', which, as I learn, was not shot in Japan but in New Zealand. In a clause of the contract that Dean had to sign, it stated that they were not allowed to approach or even look at the main actor Tom Cruise under any circumstances. However, Cruise down-to-earthily appeared during a break at the catering area to casually chat with the set staff. When confronted about it, Cruise embarrassingly mentioned that this stipulation to keep him as sheltered as possible was a silly boilerplate text set forth by his agency.

Our Hobbiton tour guide is a classic nerd girl with blue hair and a Tamagotchi on her belt. Perfect for a tour of the lovingly recreated Hobbiton. The original set for the trilogy from the 2000s was more or less made of Styrofoam and plastic and was torn down afterward. The site is finally on a privately owned farm. For the Hobbit trilogy, it was decided to construct the film set with hills and hobbit holes made of stone and wood so that it could later be used for tourism. Whole trees were uprooted and replanted, like the giant willow next to the fictional inn 'Green Dragon'. The tree above Bilbo's cave, however, is entirely made of concrete and metal. When Peter Jackson didn't like the color of the leaves during the set tour, all of them had to be painted anew overnight. The illusion still works even ten years later. Without the hint from our guide, I wouldn't have noticed that the leaves and branches don't move in the wind.

It's strange to be back in a Western country. The uncertainties don’t lie anymore in communication and how I can pay and get from A to B, but in the modern crises of free societies. In the hostel bed, I hear distant gunshots outside. A German couple at Jolame's homestay in Fiji had told me that rival gangs in New Zealand, especially in Auckland, are a major problem. Homeless people and alcoholics are visible on many street corners. I was warned that Auckland is not a beautiful city. However, it seems quite sleepy for a capital otherwise.

In the evening, I meet Lili from London through nomadtable. We intended to find a club with live music, but everything is closed on Sunday, and we instead retreat to a bar.

In the morning, I walk through empty streets up a hill that used to be a volcano, and whose grass-covered crater was a sacred site for the Maori.

The indigenous population makes up a large part of the homeless and alcoholics camping in front of a community center with a cinema for retro films. 'Live and Die in L.A.' is the 80s film noir that I watch there in preparation for even more crime and drugs in the USA.

For my further cinematic preparation for my train journey across the states, I decide on the flight to Los Angeles to watch 'Nebraska' and 'The Devil Wears Prada'. I last saw 'Nebraska' in 2013 with Elli in Canada. In the road movie, a son tries to emotionally reach his age-confused father by taking him on a random journey through the Midwest to the past. The complete contrast to the glamorous love letter to New York's fashion scene with Anne Hathaway and Meryl Streep. But at least in my cinematic blitz preparation, I have covered both the West and East Coasts and the Fly Over States.

My swanky hostel in Western design in downtown doesn't have a laundry service. So I walk with my laundry bag through L.A. to the nearest laundromat. The homelessness crisis is omnipresent. Under a bridge stands a row of tents. A man runs out of the supermarket after a homeless person and offers him a packaged sandwich. 'Thank you brother, I appreciate it.'

Drug addicts wander aimlessly at green traffic lights, calling out 'fuck' and 'fuck yourself' into the void or mumbling incoherent delusions half in the direction of other passersby. There is a post-apocalyptic vibe over the city of angels.

Food shelters and stands with free food combat the symptoms at some street corners. A drop in the ocean under the label 'Land of the free.'

My roommate from New Zealand and I agree that the problem is quite obvious. He has been in L.A. for a few days, and even in the fancier and more touristy spots like Venice Beach, neglected and mentally confused people are part of the street scene.

You don't have to have been here to understand that the USA is on the brink, I think. It suffices to have played GTA V.

At the convenience store across from the hostel, I look through the candy aisle searching for the sweetest stuff the Americans have to offer. 'We are a little short. We got a robbery.', says the owner of the narrow store behind his counter. 'Oh, when was that?', I ask him. Three days ago, they had broken in there in the middle of the night. He has owned the store since 2013, and he has seen many changes, but lately, it has become increasingly tense. 'I have never been robbed before but since last year I got robbed twice. The one time they took an ATM out, with a truck and ropes and shit.'

'Overseas we watch it and we're like, good that it's not us.', I admit. 'Yeah man, I'm originally from Egypt and everyone there has been warning me', says the store owner.

'Everything's so political, everyone wants to make their point so nothing is actually done.', he describes the two-party society. A bit like children of divorce in a custody battle. Americans like him have to endure the whims of both political camps, and concrete solutions and compromises are never found.

It really does feel very tense. On the subway, someone is loudly listening to a YouTube video about Trump and investment in AI. It sounds conspiratorial. In the hipster T-shirt store, a leftist podcast is playing. Even on the streets, people walk around blasting their phones on speaker. Sometimes I even suspect they want to make a political statement with it. It annoys me already after day one. Then just go ahead and demonstrate...

The Hollywood Boulevard is empty. I am the only tourist and eagerly study every star on the legendary sidewalk.

At the bus stop, an older woman with an accent wishes everyone passing by 'Merry Christmas'. When we get on, she unsolicitedly shares with me her brief story of how she found faith: 'Shalom, Jesus cured my cancer, I'm from Israel, shalom.'

In downtown, a guy in his mid-30s stands next to me at the traffic light wearing a colorful checkered shirt and John Lennon glasses and beard like on the Sgt. Pepper album, carrying a keyboard in his left hand.

You can accuse L.A. of a lot, but not of not producing colorful characters.

But the friendly 'How are you?' America also shows itself to me. Whether in the supermarket or on the bus, people are polite. Nice gestures and small talk offers, 'Please, go ahead'.

Many of the public notices are in consideration of the Latin American community in English and Spanish. A bilingual video on the bus to Union Station enumerates the rights migrants have in case of one of the notorious 'ICE raids'.

In the waiting area of the train station, an older couple sits across from me. 'That's a big backpack. Where did you hike?', the man asks me and engages me in a conversation about my journey. Ed and Jil from Albuquerque, New Mexico, had themselves been in China and Tibet many years ago and are planning a cruise for 2026. In the past, they never had to worry about visas. That they now have to apply for one for almost every country is surely a consequence of the Trump tariff wars, Ed suspects.

'How many pounds?', I am asked again regarding my backpack. I have to google the conversion factor from kilos to pounds. 'Around 30 pounds.'

Why they are taking the train instead of the plane as is usual in the USA. 'Ask him.', Jil looks at her husband with a smirk. 'Cause they treat you like a criminal!', Ed shouts, referring to the security checks.

On the platform, there is a group of Amish people. The women in their long dark skirts and white bonnets. The men in light blue shirts, black wool coats, and straw hats. Ed and Jil are standing further up where the sleeper car stops, while I stand among the Amish at the section for the regular compartments. Ed comes back to me, and we get briefly political. 'But you also have problems with the far right at the moment?', he asks me. He knows what's up. At the end, he asks me while glancing at the traditionally dressed waiters: 'Do you know about Amish?' 'I know a little bit.' 'Then you know as much as I do.' He explains a little more, then. For certain exceptions, like 'medical reasons', the Amish are allowed to take trains. He suspects this group was in Los Angeles for that reason.

The train is over an hour late, which I can only find out from my Amtrak app and not from the sparse display board at the platform. The American train system makes no attempt to exceed my very low expectations. Just right for my new slowed-down travel pace. Back in the first class.