The Beach Bus

On Memorial Day, I decided to take the Beach Bus from Palmdale Train Station to Santa Monica Pier. It's a pretty nifty service that Supervisor Antonovich supports, for just $6 the bus gives you about 5 hours in Santa Monica. That is less than the price of parking alone, not to mention gas and the frustration of driving on the 405.

Monday was a perfect day, the stormy, unseasonably cold weather of the previous week had finally dissipated leaving a refreshing cool breeze and sunny skies for my walk about.

If you ever see a Ferris wheel in a movie about LA that is the one located at Santa Monica Pier. I don't spend much time on the pier board walk, I usually head for Venice Beach. I was entirely tired of feeling crappy with vertigo what ever else is going on in my body so I decided I really needed to give my body a long refreshing walk. So at 10:40 when the bus dropped us off, I headed down the beach.

I stopped briefly to watch the men swinging on the ring course. Once again, I am reminded that we may not be very far off the evolutionary branch because me and other women were captivated by the male species showing prowess and virility by swinging through the air. Metal rings replaced tree limbs and that is about as far as we have evolved folks.

Upscale, body conscious Santa Monica rather abruptly into hippie, alternative Venice Beach. Here the street vendor smell of incense only barely masks the underlying, cloying smell of weed. Anti-war, anti establishment, free life, and will work for weed compete with the bands, street vendors, and performers. I am reminded of the Haight in San Francisco but somehow more Southern Californian. This is where The Doors got their start and by the looks of the regulars they were young during that time, too. Or maybe it is just their lifestyle that has made them look ancient before their time.

At North Venice Street, the street vendors peter out and nice beach front homes appear. It is clear from the anti-Bush and pro-Obama or Clinton signs in the windows that this is still a very liberal if upscale neighborhood. I think that these homes belong to the hippies that never got quagmired in drugs or at least had the means for re-hab.

I continued walking down to Marina Del Rey and then turned back along Balona Lagoon preserve. This is a nice trail walk with a lagoon on one side and massive opulent homes on the other. This is where I would buy if I ever win the lottery. Later, I know I am back in Venice when the end of the lagoon became a bit seedy and demonstrated evidence of blue tarp homes. I was thankful there was a nice couple behind me and no one seemed to be home. I crossed over the street and strolled along the Venice canals. Maybe, I would rather have a home here? Oh, let's face it, I wouldn't turn down too many homes outside of skidrow.

Once through the canals, I headed back through Venice Beach, stopped for a while to look at the events going on at Muscle Beach. One girl I swear looked like she had painted on abs--how did they get so cut? My goodness. I am not a big fan of the body built bod but I was fascinated on several levels--the eerie color of their skin (bronze on steroids is the best way to describe it), the variety of ages of the contestants (body building grandparents?), and how any man could be particularly comfy in little tiny speedos.

Once back in Santa Monica, my mood was dampened by the crosses laid out at Santa Monica West Arlington. So sad, all the young lives, 4088 of them, sacrifice for business interests of the rich. I am reminded that the protests of the 60's that made Venice Beach a happening place are mostly silent today. Why are we not outraged by this war? I headed back to the bus pondering these thoughts but feeling that at least my body was not protesting me as much. So over all for me this was a good day.