Venice Beach: sun, sand, and- more sand.

The Los Angeles I’d heard of was the one I visited last January: the shimmering expanses of tarmac, the somewhat jaded Sunset Boulevard and the kitschy Universal Studios. The Graduate and I saw none of that having finally flown from San Francisco. Instead we marooned ourselves in the bohemian outlet of Venice Beach, Santa Monica’s sketchier sibling.

You can’t mention a trip to LA these days without singing the praises of the Megabus. If you’re trying to get around America without a car (and I can now confirm that we’ve managed a very successful three-week roadtrip without one) then Megabus would be one of the first go-to places I pointed you. While it currently has a limited repertoire, only ferrying to LA and Sacramento from San Francisco or Oakland, it’s crazy promotions means that if you book early enough you can get impossibly cheap rides. Our eight hour trip down the coast to LA cost us five bucks each- less than a return fare on the San Francisco BART. And the bus wasn’t even sketchy: we had all-too-effective air conditioning (I wore two jumpers the whole way down and was still shivering like a leaf) free moderately-effective wifi, and some good reclining seats. We were even sitting next to a thirty-something Dungeons and Dragons master called Greg, so the conversation was lively.

When we eventually stepped off the bus, The Graduate balked and hissed ‘let’s get away from the engine, it’s boiling at this end’. It was only having hauled ourselves a few feet away that we realized the overheating bus engine was not at fault, but that this was simply the temperature at this end of California. Having heard about LA’s somewhat limited public transport (you Americans are way too used to your cars: get on a bus sometime) we were at a slight loss as to how to get from the Union Station to the beach, when Greg the Dungeonmaster stepped in and offered to give us a ride down in his car. Then Graduate responded with enthusiasm, I with slight trepidation that increased as he led us us past several haphazardly parked police cars and a street liberally roped off with yellow police tape.

“It’s totally fine,” Greg said cheerfully. A helicopter buzzed overhead.

We did make it down to the beach in one piece, reminding me again that most Americans are actually just friendly, and arrived at the Samesun Venice Beach Hostel. In lieu of a doorman there was a slightly addled chap in a dirty vest, who shouted “DO YOU SMOKE WEED? DON’T LIE TO ME, I KNOW YOU TAKE THAT SHIT,” as we walked past him.  

Murals at Venice Beach

Despite the initial alarming reception the hostel was great, but we didn't spend too much time in there because we were out on the sand. The Venice Beach boardwalk is sandwiched between Santa Monica and Muscle Beach: a space full of mad graffiti, street artists and skateboarders. The long flat expanse of tarmac on the edge of the sands is a perfect place for spending a lazy afternoon, and there’s always something going on. Take, for example, the numerous ‘Green Doctor’ booths dotted amongst the buskers and tourists, where for the advertised price of only $40.00, Americans could be diagnosed as stressed out or depressed and given a medical marijuana permit by a man in a green tracksuit and matching baseball cap. I don’t know what I was more amazed by, the mere presence of the booths, or the fact that they were never empty. Head far enough North or South, and you’ll reach the slightly more upmarket Santa Monica, with it’s pier and shopping district, or the Marina, which feeds into the Venice Beach canals and some big ol’ yachts.

Anyone feeling stressed?

Hitting the beach was the best way to stay cool in the middle of the day. The Samesun hostel had a cupboard full of boogie boards for the residents to take out (there are also any number of places to rent bikes, surf boards, and boogie boards along the boardwalk), and a couple of volleyballs. The Graduate and I amused ourselves with one of these for several hours, gaining looks of askance from the local muscle beach inhabitants who take the game very seriously- one man even came over just to tell us how terrible we were.

The food was amazing all week; there are lots of boardwalk bars and affordable restaurants on the edge of the sand, and more upmarket jobs with valet parking at Abbot Kinney, a few roads deep from the beach. The only thing we could feasibly afford there was some upmarket deli pizza.

Margaritas at Casablancas

I've been hearing all year that the further south you get in California, the better the Mexican food becomes, and for anyone thinking of heading the Venice Beach way my strongest foodie recommendation would be to walk to Lincoln Boulevard until you get to a very run-down looking roundabout next to a Whole Foods. On the roundabout  and go for a Margarita and a Calamari dish at Casablancas. It's an amazing little place, where flour Tortillas are thrown together on a flattop stove in the middle of the restaurant, and a maitre’d pushes an old fashioned drinks cart between the tables, throwing together hand-crafted cocktails as he goes.

So yes, we missed the Hollywood sign, the studio tours and Beverly Hills, but didn't regret it for a second. If you’re heading to LA for a summer weekend, hit the beach. You won’t be bored.

Sunset at Venice Beach

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