No Place Like Home

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Yesterday, Mr. and I decided to get away from BS, and we took a little day trip up to Venice Beach. We drove up PCH, hugging the coast and cruising through the other little beach towns.

Now, I hadn’t been to Venice in probably around 10 years, and for him it was longer. I lived in Santa Monica, and used to ride my bike there down the beach path. I didn’t know about anywhere to park, or anything like that. As we got closer, traffic got crazier. We saw a few parking lots, and figured that would be the most convenient way to go. But, none of them had prices posted. Mr. rolled down his window and asked one of the attendants. $25! um, that’s kind of a lot. We were going to check out some other lots and we totally lucked out and found a spot on the street!

I remember Venice Boardwalk as a fun, funky laid-back place. A variety of people, some of them what one might call “characters.” Eclectic little vendors. A few wandering street performers. Nope. Not any more. So. Many. People. It has become a mecca for tourists and people trying to make a quick buck selling some cheap junk. I’m not trashing the place. I feel like it’s still one of those places that, if you’re in the area, you should visit. It’s a California institution. And, we really enjoyed ourselves. Even bought a piece of cool art.

That being said, as we sat in an Ale House, crammed in with a bunch of loud, young people, I leaned into Mr. and said, “I’m so glad Belmont Shore isn’t like this…”

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