I want to go there: Venice, Los Angeles, California
Words & photography–
Lila Theodoros
@ohbabushka
With a day to spare to see the sights of Los Angeles, our Art Director Lila Theodoros took a 10 minute Uber ride down the road from sterile, tourist-ready Santa Monica Pier and found a wonderland of energy, sights and experiences – Venice Beach.
I jump out of my Uber in a dirty side street ignoring my driver’s last words – “Are you sure you want to go there???” – and take a deep breath. Venice Beach smells like beer, churros and a heavy high. It is an incredible melting pot of grime, intensity and spectacle. Venice Beach is exciting. Venice Beach is palm tree dreams, chaos and adventure.
I take a stroll down the boardwalk and pass a woman dancing to her own silent tune. A rollerblading, greying Rastafarian whizzes past me in blurry mix of smoke and purpose.
Apartment buildings line the ocean, laden with lovingly painted murals that give life and story to the seaside boardwalk.
Creative peddlars hawk their arts and crafts on the pavement – but don’t you dare take a photo of it! – the hand-painted signs yell at me – as does the actual peddlar yelling at the woman with her iPhone out, so excited at spotting an Instagram worthy scene that she obviously missed the giant warning. I shove my phone deep into my jacket pocket and keep walking.
A crowd draws in close to the metal fence surrounding Muscle Beach – a iron-pumping outdoor institution. A giant man with 1970s Arnold Schwarzenegger homage muscles strides into the ‘arena’. The crowd goes quiet. We wait.
I wander past shop after shop, filled to the brim with every tacky tourist souvenir treat imaginable and laugh at the endless Baywatch (Bae-Watch) parodies or straight-up knock offs available for sale.
Families enjoy churros and ice-cream as they get lost in the crowd of well-to-do hipsters, dazed-and-amazed tourists (me), inventive hustlers and the not-so-privileged.
A crowd draws in close to the metal fence surrounding Muscle Beach – a iron-pumping outdoor institution. A giant man with 1970s Arnold Schwarzenegger homage muscles strides into the ‘arena’. The crowd goes quiet. We wait. He sees and hears no one – not the group of women loudly squawking about “what they would do with those muscles”, or the men staring with admiration glazed in their eyes, or the countless iPhones held up, ready to record. We hush. He holds on to what looks like a double chin up bar and in an attention commanding and savagely guttural sound he yells, “HUMPHOOOEERRRG!”. We watch in amazement as he lifts himself into a handstand above the bars and then proceeds to do a set of five push ups (push downs??). He finishes to an awed silence – we don’t know whether to loudly cheer or pretend he can’t see us staring through the low fence and remain quiet – quiet oddly wins out. He wipes the ‘well-earned’ sweat from his face with a towel and walks out of the arena. Show over. We disperse.
Venice Beach asks you to choose your own adventure – watch a near professional basketball game played on the boardwalk courts; see your ‘Doctor’ who will diagnose you with “xxx” and prescribe a green cure; scoff questionable but delicious churros, tacos, popcorn and icecream; explore your future with a psychic reading; sip ultra-cool cocktails on rooftop bars overlooking the circus below.
Everyone will enjoy their own unique experience and come away with a different story to tell.
