Our first stop in LA was the famous Venice Beach. I had only been once in the past and stored it away in my memory as the coolest little hippie mecca imaginable. Full of vagabonds and free spirits, through the lens of my young eyes I couldn’t think of a cooler place to live when I got older.
We arrived in the midst of a warm, sunny Saturday and the boardwalk and beach were packed to the brim with tourists like us and locals. It was a perfect Southern Cal afternoon.
For a little over an hour we walked up and down the boardwalk popping in and out of shops and chatting it up with vendors. For having such a mish mash of things going on there is some true artistic talent down on that beach.
Just as I remembered, Venice oozed cool. It’s hard not to respect people completely marching to the beat of their own drum. Except this time I was able to pick up on a little more of the harsh, gritty realities of a lot of what is there.
Now as I visit VB in my 20’s, in the prime of the years I’d imagined back in the day, I still love Venice, but I think I’d prefer to come and go from the chaos as a visitor rather than a resident.