Evan Iliadis blog

My years in America. America! America!

My years in America. America! America!

My years in America. America! America!

Long time no post here. Not only I neglect this blog but also a place lived a big part of my life, that is nearly 16 years in the USA. Yes, it was January of the year 1985 when I landed in LAX. I had a suitcase, some money, and many skills. Oh! Did I tell you I also was young and handsome?…  

After the usual “welcome to America” in the airport, immigration and customs all I remember from that day is the suspicion of that Filipino immigration officer who pushed hard to questioning my Visa type B, like business she wanted to know in details on what kind of business I’m in and the purpose of entering the US. So if you see a Filipina officer in the airport, change lanes and go to the other one with blue eyes and blond hair.

Anyway, I am in a taxi heading to Venice Beach 20 minutes ride from LAX with no suitcase, being told: “will arrive on the next plane from Paris”. Arrived at my apartment at midnight with not even a change of a pair of socks. Indeed, my suitcase was delivered at 10 PM the next day at my place.

Venice Beach, California, My years in America. America! America!

My 419 Ocean Front Walk apartment was right where its name is, @20 meters from the sand. A small, cute two-story, two-unit condo facing the beach with a small garden on the front and a big window facing the boardwalk.

I hadn’t even had the time to explore the beach when a loud screaming and voices woke me up at 7 in the morning. Jumped out to see what was going on and saw 4 cops on top of a man on the floor, trying to handcuff him. I said to myself, he must have done something grave to have all these cops trying to arrest him; I asked a bystander if he knew why he was arrested and got a shocking reply.

He was drinking a beer on the street
I said, then? Was he drunk?
I don’t know, he said, but you can’t drink in public places here.
Do they really need all this manpower to subdue a guy just for drinking a beer?
Apparently, the bystander didn’t like the question, so he left.

Venice is a crazy place to live. You’re caught in the middle of middle-class bourgeoisie homeowners, homeless, leftist activists, nostalgic of the hippie era, artists, and singers in search of a breakthrough that will change their lives, but more often will never come.

Cops are everywhere on the streets; their 4X4 patrols the beach all night long looking for campers. I have rarely seen such a concentration of law enforcement in a tourist place. Talk about California, the most liberal State of the Union…

Let’s post a video from my FB that I filmed last year for the heck of remembering the real face of Venice.

Should I mention all the reasons for loving this country? I’d have to write a book, not a blog.
First and most importantly, you weren’t seen as a foreigner but rather as a newcomer in those years. That’s at least how my US friends used to introduce me to others. Unlike the rest of the world, newcomers and US citizens have the same form of ID, the driver’s license. Unlike France and other European countries, where the citizen has a national ID, the immigrants have one of the several stay authorizations reserved for them.

Love affair, cultural shock. Only in America! My years in America. America! America!

Days later, I met a woman in her 30s, and she invited me for dinner atMacDonald’s. We talked about everything and nothing. She told me she was working then as a social worker for the county with a salary of $8 an hour, never married, and she would like to. It was the last thing I had in mind, recovering from a recent divorce.

Anyway, we finished dinner and decided to go. I saw her taking her plate and bringing it back to the designated place, something I didn’t, leaving everything on the table. With an authoritarian style, she almost ordered me to do the same; I replied sorry, I’ve never been to a fast food before and don’t know the rules.

But out of curiosity, I asked her why should I have to do this? Her answer was that we must help keep the cost down; should every customer leave the table without clearing it, they’ll have to assign an additional employee to do this, raising their prices!

She said, ” One more thing you should know, here in America, we must help the rich to become more prosperous because they are the only ones who can resolve poor people’s problems! Not the government! 

How a liberal like me, by French standards, coming from a socialist country where even the most extreme conservative views are far from being not even close to her statement, can digest this? 

I hadn’t to. She does not have a legion of supporters in her thinking; I’ll even say she was an exception. But I did like the woman for expressing her views as she sees them, regardless of YOUR perception.

I like Americans for defending their opinions, expressing them fearlessly, with no complex or reservation, as stupid and incomprehensible might be to us Europeans from a different culture living with taboos and often nonsense conservative traditions that usually complicate our lives. Should I go as far as to say I should endorse Donald Trump? Just for having the courage to give his opinion?

No, I won’t! Even though he now tries to correct his rhetoric on violence, sexism, and racism, it is too late. Sorry, Donald, you don’t fit the all-American profile of a leader as I knew it in the 80s. You look to me more of a madman than a president of the US. 

 My years in America. America! America!