MODERN-DAY BEATNIKS – July 14
We awoke this morning to some lively mariachi music playing on our hotel alarm clock radio. And we were off! Aubrey may have preferred to stay behind in Chula Vista because not only did the sunburn on my face define a clear image of my sunglasses when I was not wearing them, but I’d chosen to don a blue Nike hat over clipped-back hair to protect my sun-seared part from further damage. It is safe to say that Aubrey will be maintaining a wide distance between herself and her mother today, lest she is somehow associated with such a fashion disaster and forced to break one of her contract rules.
San Juan Capistrano Mission was the first stop on the agenda today. It was beautifully landscaped with fountains, cactus and flowering plants tucked on every available surface around the old crumbling stone of the Mission.
The audio tour was fascinating. The mission’s great stone church was all but leveled by an 1812 earthquake. We were privileged to light a candle for a friend at Father Serra’s Church, the oldest building in California. The 300 year old Baroque altar is from Spain.
Though we were four months tardy for the return of the migrating swallows of Capistrano, we saw evidence of their mud nests awaiting their next return. In one particular Mission garden, we were charmed by speedy hummingbirds zipping between flowers and citrus trees. They moved too quickly for me to capture a photo. There are less swallows returning to Capistrano every year. They are now favoring less urbanized areas, like the San Bernardino Mountains.
We headed north and drove a stretch on route 405, a highway made infamous by OJ Simpson during his pathetic attempt to flee from the law in his white SUV. This highway was at points 7 lanes wide and too far from the coast to be any fun at all. Jim was fairly white-knuckled behind the wheel, and not much rattles him when he is driving. In just two days, portions of route 405 will be closed for repair. In Los Angeles, the media has started referring to this as “Carmageddon” and “The Carpocolypse.” I’m glad we will be north of that mess by the 16th. I can’t imagine what they will do to reroute 7 lanes of speeding traffic. It seems inconceivable that a traffic sign directing Santa Monica traffic to the “5 left lanes” is even factual.
As we entered the Venice Beach area we were met by some crazy traffic. And worse yet, we are beginning to believe we are a magnet for disturbing crime scenes. When we stepped out of the car and onto the beach, we noticed a police helicopter flying pretty low. Soon thereafter, a second police helicopter was sighted. We realized that entire blocks, streets and alleys were sectioned off, staffed with officers carrying rather large guns. Snipers were in position in several locations and by the time we left (quite a bit later) the loud announcement from the police chopper was saying things like, “We are searching for an armed perpetrator. For your safety, please return to your homes and businesses.” But I’m getting ahead of myself.
The actual beach portion of Venice Beach is not that much different than the Jersey shore at first glance. But a few hundred feet from the movement of the waves on the shore, things are quite dissimilar. There was a skate park and an area for organized graffiti. I would have thought that was an oxymoron prior to my Venice Beach initiation. Muscle beach also actually exists, where people pump iron in the sand. But by far the most memorable section of Venice Beach is the street market running parallel with the beach. Imagine “earthy-crunchy” meets “beach chic.” Throw that into a pot with a paintbrush and some hemp. If you add a side order of rollerblade and a large dash of attitude, you’ve got a pretty accurate picture of the dish being served.
Several medical “Kush Doctors” were vying for the opportunity to diagnose passersby with a medical condition requiring marijuana therapy.
The scent of incense was hanging in the air. I saw lots of dreadlocks and enough swirly patterns of tie-dye to make my eyes feel pretty psychedelic.
My children have been amusing themselves by mercilessly teasing their parents. They have repeatedly made fun of Jim’s bag (or as they call it a man-purse, or “murse.”) Since I insisted on carrying mostly cash, he is not letting my little envelopes of green out of his sight, and for that I am thankful. They also laughed at me when I was reading the travel literature and told them we might see some “modern day beatniks”, however~ we spotted many as promised. Isaac and Aubrey found it necessary to make fun of that term for the remainder of the trip.
A ventriloquist doll tried to get Aubrey’s attention as we hurried by. “Hey Redhead!” Another interesting character tried to hand me his CD and when I wouldn’t take it, he accused me loudly. “You’re judging me Mom!” And to Jim, “You’re tripping me, Man!” Aubrey must have appeared an easy target as she was approached by several unconventional personalities who tried to convince her that she needed to purchase their inventory.
Huge umbrellas resting open against the sun provided fencing for the eclectic collection of sellers and their wares. To a certain degree, it reminded me of the depravity of Bourbon Street. But most of the Venice Beach decadence was good (albeit ridiculous) fun.
Please note my unsightly hat above as I pose with the shark. (Even now Aubrey asks, "Are you sure you want to include that picture?!)
Leaving the area, we discovered a parking ticket on our window. We were parked in a 2 hour spot and had been there only about 90 minutes. Maybe they were trying to make a point with the tourists who refused to leave the crime scene area in a timely fashion. I fear Jim will never follow through with a phone call to the LAPD to clear his name (or at least the name of our rental car.)
Ike and his very handy IPhone app (which saved us from several navigational debacles) found a restaurant which had been featured on Diners Drive-Ins and Dives. We attempted to locate Don Chow’s Tacos only to discover that it is a food truck. Alas, it had driven away before our late lunch arrival.
We continued on to Santa Monica to attempt to have lunch at One Pico at the Shutters. It was great in theory and we were hoping to do some star spotting but on arrival it was fairly apparent that without a quick run through Neiman Marcus for a makeover, we were distressingly underdressed for the occasion. We did not want to appear that we had just fallen off the turnip truck, so we chose not to stay. (And it wasn’t just my hat.) Instead we found a Bubba Gump’s on Santa Monica Pier for our very late lunch.
Pier highlights included unsuccessfully trying to coerce Aubrey to have her likeness depicted via caricature and purchasing a cheeseburger for a sweet homeless lady.
Shameless ploy for cash above came with a surprisingly catchy rhythm on the drums.
And these guys made us feel, well, pretty flaccid in the muscle department. They attracted a lot of spectators, one of whom was watching with her very large pet gecko.
We rented some bikes (or in Isaac’s case, a fun-cycle) and rode the bike path for an hour. It was great to feel the cool ocean breeze while dodging pedestrians (who were not supposed to be utilizing the bike path….do I sound bitter?) while simultaneously staying erect on a bike which has skidded suddenly on the loose sand covering the path.
Isaac took an entertaining little video while riding and I’m hoping I can insert that here.
Agoura Hills turned out to be a fabulous town, as was the Hampton Inn in which we stayed. It was one of our favorite hotels on this trip. We admired the mountains while soaking in the Jacuzzi. Watched Steven Colbert make fun of the impending 405 closure and discovered wonderful treats at a local Farmer’s Market for a late hotel room supper. The full moon over the horizon in the Agoura Mountains was positively beautiful.
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