South of Santa Monica – part of the sprawling Los Angeles conurbation – Venice Beach. Outdoor gyms for burly bodybuilders. Beach volleyball nets. But, despite the pleasant warmth, quite deserted. Instead, trashy shops stacked with expensive tat. Tourists drifting unpredictably onto the cycle route that wound itself along the beach. Twists and turns.
I’d not meant to startle her. Just asked if her surname was Wilson. It was. How did I know, she’d asked, hastily looking to see if it was on a luggage tag. It wasn’t. Mine was an informed guess. Chance meeting with Ann in the locker room of the hostel in Santa Monica, striking up a conversation before joining her for breakfast. First of the day.
Ann was a fellow long-haul cyclist, had quite a few years on the road under her belt. But it was her tales of Bulgaria that’d aroused my curiosity. Had her bicycle stolen in Sofia. A story I’d heard before, I was sure. Recounted to me by Myles, a fellow Englishman. We’d ridden together from the city towards Turkey.
The previous evening I’d bumped into Aerind – pronounced Avon – with whom I’d camped at Kirk Creek. He’d arrived at the hostel a little ahead of me, his bob-trailer the source of much cursing as I’d struggled to stow my trusty steed in the small cycle store room.
Ann was heading off by bus for a few days, and I’d another breakfast to go to. Off to nearby Santa Monica pier to meet up once more with Esther, my host in Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan, eighteen months or so earlier. Now living in LA.
Yorkshire tea.. in a shop in Santa Monica, Los Angeles. Surprising, not least because I thought we’d stopped them trading with the New World centuries ago…
Smog tends to lend itself to pastel sunsets…
Introducing Carl who, together with wife Karen, hosted Ken in Long Beach, Los Angeles
Venice Beach, Los Angeles… More tourist tat than gangland spat… in daylight at least…
Los Angeles isn’t all about drive-ins, drive-bys, riots and gang warfare. There are plenty of nice bits, in daylight at least..
Only sunbather to be found around Santa Monica pier, Los Angeles. Proof, if ever you needed it, of what over-exposure can do to your complexion…
Errr… no idea what this is about… on Santa Monica pier, Los Angeles..
