Heading south
It suddenly gets much warmer when we leave SF, we drive across the California orchards, the roads seem dusty, the hills time-worn, Mexicans buzz about in the plantations. The road leading to Santa Monica is long. In turn the rvs, the sparkling trucks, the dilapidated pick-up whisk on the freeway. What a change, Santa Monica and its mutant women, siliconed, nail-polished. Santa Monica its promenade and pretty facades. Santa Monica and its neat lawns, its gorgeous palm trees, its yoga schools at every corner. The temperature is mild, we find ourselves back in August, we dare wear a skirt and walk barefoot.
Even the homeless seem cleaner, as if they had been given clothes so as not to disturb the picture. I even saw one wearing white socks.
Each day its discoveries, yesterday I went back to Venice Beach, a world of its own. They were shooting a film, dirty dreadlocked beach bums were acting without conviction under powerful projectors. A few meters away a man seemingly coming back from Woodstock sells sage, tanned face, filthy clothes and blond hair headed. Further away, a muscular black guy holds the assembly under his spell, He is holding a folding chair on which is sitting a twelve year old girl, now he stick one of the chair's foot in his mouth and surprise he holds the girl and the chair in balance with his jaw.
The merchants are making money and sell cowboy hats, music from the Andes, food and all kind of clothes.
Bike riding policemen patrol the promenade. On the beach they move in quads and jeeps, the activity is intense and the sirens wistle any time telling us that something just happened.
On the beach further away it is another fauna, the surfers confront the swimmers, well almost for a lifeguard hurries up to set them apart with a loud speaker. Each has to evolve in a definite zone and nothing will make her change her mind. The Pacific sea water is surprisingly warm, it must be around 24 degrees celcius, but it doesn't look clean.
Santa Monica live at yoga time, everyone is going or is coming back from a yoga class, mat on the shoulder dressed in Lululemon pants and comfortable shoes. The classes are packed, the mats close and one works dripping sweat in the heat of the studios, head in the neighbor's feet careful not to touch each other while saluting the sun. The level is impressive, the yogis assiduous. No showers at the end of the class, each leaves the class on a cloud to shower home.
Even the homeless seem cleaner, as if they had been given clothes so as not to disturb the picture. I even saw one wearing white socks.
Each day its discoveries, yesterday I went back to Venice Beach, a world of its own. They were shooting a film, dirty dreadlocked beach bums were acting without conviction under powerful projectors. A few meters away a man seemingly coming back from Woodstock sells sage, tanned face, filthy clothes and blond hair headed. Further away, a muscular black guy holds the assembly under his spell, He is holding a folding chair on which is sitting a twelve year old girl, now he stick one of the chair's foot in his mouth and surprise he holds the girl and the chair in balance with his jaw.
The merchants are making money and sell cowboy hats, music from the Andes, food and all kind of clothes.
Bike riding policemen patrol the promenade. On the beach they move in quads and jeeps, the activity is intense and the sirens wistle any time telling us that something just happened.
On the beach further away it is another fauna, the surfers confront the swimmers, well almost for a lifeguard hurries up to set them apart with a loud speaker. Each has to evolve in a definite zone and nothing will make her change her mind. The Pacific sea water is surprisingly warm, it must be around 24 degrees celcius, but it doesn't look clean.
Santa Monica live at yoga time, everyone is going or is coming back from a yoga class, mat on the shoulder dressed in Lululemon pants and comfortable shoes. The classes are packed, the mats close and one works dripping sweat in the heat of the studios, head in the neighbor's feet careful not to touch each other while saluting the sun. The level is impressive, the yogis assiduous. No showers at the end of the class, each leaves the class on a cloud to shower home.
posted by nat at 10:47 PM
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