Venice Beach - Sand, Sun, Vendors, & Optional Hygiene!

For my Black Friday, I decided to go on an 11 mile oceanside hike.  I left my home (6 blocks from the ocean) and headed to the Santa Monica Pier.  It was the quintessential Southern California day......endless blue skies and sunshine.  Here are some of the sights seen.

Dia de la Muerte

 The murals in our area are beautiful.  From Santa Monica to Venice, your eyes are drawn to murals guiding you to the aquarium, honoring Vincent Van Gogh, or tickling your funny bone.





One of the artists with a booth attempting to sell their creations did this mural across from his regular stand.  In is hypnotic in person.

 This covers the entire side of the building, and causes me to catch my breath no matter how many times I see it.

And of course, some of our murals are advertisements.  The flying pandas are an eye catching add for a new show on Adult Swimon Cartoon Network.  I am a sucker for it - will be watching to see what in the heck this is all about.



This is what you see if you turn away from the ocean!

In addition to these lovely murals (to see more, please go to http://bridgetann1.tumblr.com/), we have the passing, ever-changing parade of people.  By the numbers, here is a brief recounting: one young lady in purple skin tight hot pants, heels and a hoodie, two elderly muscle men in speedos soliciting tips for photos, three SCARY clowns making balloon animals or doing magic, four crying children of all different ages, 5 people in green "Pot Doctor" scrubs, 6 vendors selling Jamaican hats and clothes, 7 henna tattoo booths, heard at least 8 different languages being spoken, 9 shirtless laddies, 10 women in bikinis tops with shorts, 11 people in wool coats/hats/gloves, and 12 lovers in love.*  Oh, and let's not forget the man with Devil Horns coming out of his head with a jewelled scepter that poses for photos and probably issues damnation and poxes upon the houses of those that do not tip well.

This is what adds such vibrancy to our area, to see couples of all kinds holding hands, kissing, and smiling that knowing smile that even others understand.  The languages.  The fact that some people are in the ocean in just their bathing suits and others look like Ralphie's brother in "A Christmas Story'.  People taking pictures of others then swapping to get their pictures taken.  Young artists handing you a CD and then saying they work for donations.  The psychics doing readings right on the sidewalk and the people they are reading so engrossed in every word you would think they were in a private salon.  The families wandering with one child too far ahead and the other lollygagging behind.  People debating whether the ocean front mansions are houses, apartment buildings, or hotels, desperately trying to peer into the windows and ducking away like a rabbit when they see someone in the house.  The crazy clothing.  People ignoring the ones they are with by talking on the phone for over a mile of walking.  A man answering his phone by saying loudly, "you are such an idiot.  You are so sutpid....no.....no.....look - you told me you had your daughter for the weekend, so forget it......I have to call you back - you are so f**king stupid."

Hear are some more of the comments overheard yesterday:
1.  "I think pot is legal in California...just not in the rest of the country."
2.  "You know I like it here because there are actually some normal people here, you know?  Like there are the freaks, and the rebels, but then there are just some normal people working and stuff...not like Salt Lake City - there you only have Mo's and rebels.  The Mo's and then the people wearing flat brimmed hats, getting tats and piercings and desperate to distance themselves from the church...."
3. A stoner walking beside me for a bit kept saying to his girlfriend "I don't know where I left it...man, I feel so dumb, I can't remember where I left it.  I....I...I just can't remember, man" over and over and over and over.  I had to stop and feign interest in a vendor's wares in order to get some away from this one.
4. "I just want to prove it to you, Dad."
5. "The 10 didn't even exist then....getting to the 405 was a nightmare."

Along with all the things you overhear, there are so many things to smell.  In Venice, it seems that personal hygiene is somewhat of an optional practice.  It is what I imagine things may have smelled like in the alleys of turn of the century London.  The combination of muscle men working out, homeless campers, hungover tourists, granola anit-deodorant folks, performers and druggies is a potent aroma.  Luckily, there does not seem to be a pervasive bad breath odor, just more body odor, and nasty hair smells.  Then you will stumble through the scent of people smoking pot.  In the open.  At 2:00 p.m. in the afternoon.  No wonder the tourists thought it was legal here.  I easily passed through 3 such clouds.

The performers and the vendors provide the soundtrack for this entire circus.  Although it seemed to be an alternating pattern of Red Hot Chili Peppers and Bob Marley, there were a few surprises thrown in.  Vince Guaraldi Trio's "ChristmasTime is Here", Earth, Wind, & Fire, Lady Gaga, and vaguely familiar, generic reggae.

As happens everyday, at least everyday that it isn't raining (which thankfully is nearly all), people started gathering and seeking out their own spots for the sunset.  Some lazily stayed in their cars parked facing the sun.  (I have done that myself before...sometimes it is the best - like a drive-in movie.)  Others arms linked and fingers intertwined, nestled on sand and the half walls along the boardwalk.  Their faces upturned and glowing in the golden late day sunshine.  Half smiles of cozy contentment.

I headed home before the sun actually set, confident in the knowledge that I can see it everyday, and desiring to get back home to my sons after the hours long hike.

I have had a few friends who ask me if I ever get tired of the never-ending waves, the expanses of golden sand, the hordes of tourists, the temperate days and chilly nights - the answer is a resounding no, I do not tire of it.

*Counts are estimates....although a few of them are actually correct - like the first few!!

Sunday in Santa Monica

I love to get up early and walk for a cup of coffee.  The streets are unbelievably quiet....hardly any cars. hardly any people, a softness in the air that is hard to describe.  There is almost a pregnant pause effect....waiting for all the exuberance of our town to burst forth in a few hours.

Of course, we have our homeless snuggled up in doorways, under alcoves, laying on park benches, attempting to blend in, to not impose, to be so still that maybe, just maybe, no one will notice or see them there, and they can have 15 more minutes of peace, a small handhold on the escapism of a dream, in the fitful sleep that I am sure eludes them most of the time.  This morning, I was so happy to hear one of our regulars at Broadway and 7th actually snoring!  It touched my heart - at least she was getting a short span of real sleep.

And - to be certain - the athletes are already starting to move!  Although on Sunday it seems that there are fewer at this early hour than the rest of the week.  I am bypassed by runners, their approach signaled by "on the left" or "to the right".  The cyclists in their serious gear (looking hot I might add) roll past with nary a wave, on occasion, the slight head nod of greeting to the lady in pink on the sidewalk.

Early Sunday morning is when you can catch some of the small town charm that possesses our city.  I love to see people opening their restaurants, bakeries, and coffee shops, sweeping the front area, setting single blooms just so in small containers on bistro tables, many wearing the old school long aprons, doing their part to wake up the sleepy city.  Unlike the determined, driven cyclists, these folks always have a smile, a wave, or a good morning to share.

Since we are an oceanside city, we are often enveloped in a shroud of "marine layer" or fog in the early morning.  I love that too.  Have you ever taken a sweatshirt out of the dryer that had been forgotten overnight? You pull it on half expecting it to be warm - but it is actually somewhat chilly?  Then you have to warm it up from the inside out with your own body heat.  That is how the fog feels to me this morning.

Sunday morning is the time each week when Santa Monica takes a moment to catch it's breath.  Our town is host to people from all over California, all over the country, all over the world - all year long.  The next time your are in Santa Monica, make a point to get up around 6:30, brush your teeth, grab a sweater, and go for a walk.  If you give me a call - I will go with you!