23/12/2012, Sunday, Beverly Hills
Our
first stop in Beverly Hills was the supermarket so we could prepare food in the
flat we are renting. All women I saw here had a nose job. All had the same
nose. Some men also clearly had facial plastic surgery.
As we were
driving from Palm Spring to Los Angeles, we stopped by Upland to visit F.’s
kindergarden teacher. F.’s teacher was of course very happy about our visit. L.
attracted a lot of attention. Although, the teacher’s husband went to the TV
room to watch a game; even though there were guests in his house. Clearly, he
lacks some manners.
It seems
like my dear L. is now quite used to the road trip. It is of course necessary
to constantly entertain her and keep her occupied. But generally, she is very
mature and so sweet. She particularly loves meeting new people and being the
center of attention. She talks by herself or takes part in the conversation
with her baby language. All three of us still suffer from jetlag. Some nights, L. wakes up every 1 or 2 hours.
By 5 am, she is completely awake. So we start our day early. By 8 pm, we can no
longer keep our eyes open. But my poor L. is coughing. She had it since
London but it increased here and it is not going away. Also, she is not eating
any proper warm/cooked food. She only eats a little bit of dry, snacky food. I
am always worried that she is not getting enough nutrition.
….
We rented a
flat in Beverly Hills for a few days. Especially, with a baby, it ends up being
much cheaper and more comfortable than a hotel.
350 N. Crescent, Unit 101. It
is a very nice flat and the location is fantastic. It is right in the middle of
Beverly Hills. However, LA and its surroundings are nothing like in the movies. LA
is very ugly, actually dangerous. Based only on what I could see today, Beverly
Hills doesn’t look that special either. There are more elegant neighborhoods in
London and Paris.
We even had
guests in the evening. F.’s highschool friends came over with their wives. L.
was of course very happy again to meet new people and get attention.
24/12/2012, Monday,
Beverly Hills, CA
When we
started the day with clouds and even heavy downpour, I was almost happy. The
dry weather really disturbed our skin, eyes and nose since we arrived in
America. My nose is bleeding everyday. A little humidity was good. Under these
weather conditions, we drove around Beverly Hills’ slopes and saw the mansions,
villas, small palaces and passed through Sunset Boulevard, Rodeo Drive and
Mulholland Drive.
These places remind me of the hilly neighborhoods of
Bosphorus. Of course the houses and roads are much more orderly. The area is
wider.
What I liked the most here is actually the nature. The density of palm
trees and other greenery, especially under the rain, left a tropical impression
on me. In places, I felt like I was in Brazil. The nature is very different
here than in the East Coast of the USA.
As the time
passed, the weather improved and the sun reappeared. We went to the city
center. The only thing worth seeing in this dangerous, ugly and "not worth
visiting" city is the Walt Disney Concert Hall, which is relatively new.
It is a
successful work of architect Gehry. As it is Christmas Eve, so without experiencing the congestion of the infamous Los Angeles traffic, we went to
Hollywood Boulevard. Even though, I didn’t have any high expectations from this
place, I was disturbed by the soul of this road and neighborhood.
It is so
superficial. It is lonely and sad. It was made worse when I was tricked by a
tourit peddler to forcefully buy a CD. It is place that one goes when in Los
Angeles (though, it is not worth coming to Los Angeles either) but it is really
not necessary. The sad atmosphere around here is darkened by the multitude of
the homeless, alcoholics and mentally deranged.
We went to
Farmer’s Market for lunch. It wasn’t bad but as L. was crying, we couldn’t
really walk around, decide our food and eat. Making the most of the easy
traffic flow, we went around elegant neighborhoods of Westwood, Wilshire,
Bel-Air and the enormous UCLA campus. In these areas, we felt better. After passing
through Wilshire Boulevard, which corresponds to Nisantasi in Istanbul and
Sloan Street or Mayfair in London, we met again with F.’s high school friends
in front of our flat. They took us to Santa Monica for dinner – 15 minute
distance without traffic.
On the way,
I saw the Sony/ATV office building. Sonta Monica is a nice area. It is
like Istiklal Street (Beyoglu) in Istanbul or Oxford Street in London. At the
end of this very long day, we are very exhausted due to making a journey with a 15
month old baby, long road trips, and the never ending jet lag. F. is unwell. L’s
coughing is not getting better and is worrying me. I am also concerned by the
fact that my memory is really weak due to exhaustion (I keep on asking the same
questions over and over again). I wish that all three of us would sleep well,
get well and rest during this holiday.
25/12/2012, Tuesday, Beverly Hills, CA
Today is
our 5th Bangladeshi wedding anniversary with F.
As I was
getting ready this morning, I was nervous as if I was really going to come face
to face with Michael and talk to him. I didn’t like the deodorant I put on, I
washed it off, tried different fragrances. I wanted my outfit to be perfect. I
worried about concealing the dark circles and lines under my eyes appearing due
to aging and lack of sleep.
As today is
Christmas and everywhere is closed, I couldn’t find sunflowers (Michael’s
favourite flower). Thankfully, I could find gerberas resembling sunflowers
at the florist at the entrance of Forest Lawn. The security guard at the
entrance of the Holy Terrace building told me that this is a private area, no one is allowed to enter and that it can only be visited from outside. As such, the
front of the terrace is home to flowers and letters left for Michael.
Even
seeing the flowers and notes left here started off my crying. I waited for a fan
who was standing quietly in contemplation in front of the Holy Terrace door to
leave because I wanted to be alone with Michael there. As my turn came up and I
stood up in front of the door, my tears turned into floods.
I greeted Michael
and for some reason I don’t know, I apologized for being so late. Then I read
aloud the letter (pages and pages) I started writing in August 2009 (of course,
unfortunately in tears and as my mascara running down on my cheeks). Behind me,
there was a middle aged woman waiting in contemplation. Even after I finished
my letter, hung my flower and letter on the door, I couldn’t manage to leave
the place. As I leaned my hand and face on the door crying, suddenly someone
opened the door from inside and told me I could come in! I couldn’t believe my
luck. Just like a dream. I could enter this private and restricted place.
At the end
of a long and cold corridor, under colourful stained glass, Michael’s tomb was
right in front of me.
There were letters sent by post and flowers, Christmas
tree and garland placed by cemetery employees. I also left my flower and letter
here. This was the time I could ever get closest to Michael (2-3 meters). When he is
in that cold marble stone, which doesn’t suit him at all.
Outside,
the same middle aged woman was sitting in grief, contemplating. She asked me
how I managed to get inside and about the amount of flowers.
It was a
surreal experience. As if it never happened. But it did and made me complete.
Our next
stop was Hayvenhurst Avenue in Encino, so the house where Michael grew up and
lived with his family before moving to Neverland. The house is currently in
renovation. It is not clear whether or not the family will move back here. It
wasn’t of course possible to see inside through the iron gates; however, I had
a long conversation with Tarek, the security guard and he told me about his
memories with Michael. He became one of his bodyguards in 2008, when Michael was
living in Las Vegas. Tarek said that when Michael first gave him his hand and
said “Hello, I am Michael Jackson”, he was surprised that his knees were
shaking even as a man. Tarek asked him how he should address him and he
responded “Usually they call me Mr. Jackson but my family calls me Mike.”
According
to Tarek, he would ask questions to which he already knew the answer and then
say whether or not the answer was correct in order to test the people around
him.He was
always alert, always 10 steps ahead and expected everyone around him to be the
same. Tarek said that he loved to play jokes but when it came down to work, he
was very serious and concentrated; even his rehearsals would last 12 hours a
day.
He said
that even the dancers younger than him would get tired before him. Tarek said
that they first started the rehearsals in Grand Western Forum before moving on
to Staples Center. In this period, many dancers were sent back because they
couldn’t keep up with the workload. Even when Michael would tell everyone, “Ok
now take a break” he would keep on working.
Tarek said
that his mind would never stop, even when his advisers would tell him to take a
rest, he was always thinking and working. According to Tarek, he was healthy
but wasn’t getting enough rest. Tarek said that as far as he could see, he
wasn’t unwell as he saw him shirtless and even at that age he had a six pack.
LaToya told Tarek that even when he was rehearsing for Moonwalk, he was rehearsing
tap dance two hours a day.
One day,
Michael came to Hayvenhurst in a fat white man costume, rang the buzzer and
asked to come in. The security couldn’t figure out who he was. He said, “I had
an appointment” without revealing who he was but he couldn’t hide his Indiana
accent when he said “I had an appointment.” And once, in Las Vegas, he went
around a department store hiding his face pretending to read a newspaper. Of course the
bodyguards were around him but acted normal. He spent $1200 and gave a bundle
of money to the cashier saying “This should be enough.” As the cashier was
giving change to bodyguards, he asked who that was. By the time the security
said it was MJ, Michael was already in the car. The cashier immediately made an
announcement saying “MJ was just here” and everyone in the store ran outside to
see him. Sometimes, they would push him in a wheelchair in an attempt to
disguise who he was.
After our
chat with Tarek, he opened the gate of the compound for me and Kenya, the dog
that Michael gave to Paris greeted us.
Kenya is a beautiful and friendly dog,
so full of love. He ran towards me, jumped on me and hugged me.
This made me
incredibly happy. I felt Michael’s soul, full of love. Michael’s friend, a dog
that knew him greeted me like this. I padded him, spoke to him, and embraced
him. Thanks to Kenya, I felt as if I met Michael and talked to him. And I
couldn’t believe my luck.
Tarek told
me that Katherine Jackson and Prince come to this house from time to time but
for now, they live in Calabasas. Unfortunately, as Katherine Jackson doesn’t
want pets in the house, she left Kenya and Paris’ cats in this house with the
workers. This upset me. I told Tarek that Kenya must be missing Paris
and he said that the cats miss her even more. He said that animals managed to
stay in the house before thanks to
Michael. I asked Tarek to give our love from Turkey and London to Katherine
Jackson, next time he sees her.
I still
cannot believe all that happened and my luck. I am so happy. Then, we needed to
stop by a drugstore in Encino center. Just thinking that Michael also came to
these places, spent time here however little and that I also managed to come
makes me the happiest and most grateful person today and for the rest of my
life with L.’s contribution!
Then we
decided to see Calabasas since so many celebrities of our day live there now
but we regretted it tremendously. All houses are in compounds behind security
gates. It is like a pensioner’s town. It has nothing special or beautiful.
Very
boring. We returned immediately. Everywhere is closed because of Christmas
anyway.
For dinner
we went to F.’s childhood friend’s house in Santa Clarita. Her brother and
sister-in-law were also there. I still cannot believe the day I just had. Did God really give me all these blessings?
26/12/2012, Wednesday, Beverly Hills, CA
Right now,
I am very unhappy compared to how I was feeling yesterday. L’s coughing was
better, almost gone yesterday. Today, first as we were going around Venice
Beach and then Santa Monica Beach and its surroundings, L’s cough became really bad
even inside the car, away from the outside cold. F. is also very sick, his throat
hurts. With F.’s pushing, we went to the children’s hospital. L’ was diagnosed
with bronchiolitis. My dear little baby. They gave L. iburol with a mask. Then
F. went to see a doctor.
Actually we
had started the day really well. The weather was fantastic, like a sunny spring
day. Due to the season, Venice Beach was not crowded at all and there were no
summer holidayers, tourist peddlers, salesmen or other charlatans. It was possible
to notice the beauty of some of the houses by the beach.
Breathing in the ocean
air had done me good. The back streets of Venice Beach reminded me of some Turkish
and Greek holiday towns. I would have never guessed I would see such places in
America.
After
seeing the horrible places we had seen when we first arrived in LA, knowing
that such nice neighborhoods also exist made me happy. Up until my daughter got
sick.
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