Santa Monica and Venice Beach

Saturday  22nd August. Today we went to Santa Monica and Venice Beach. This was a nice little expedition led by Lady P in the left hand seat. Santa Monica was a lovely place and fairly busy and we managed a park in the lot which was right on the beach beside the pier, fairly easily. A walk to the Farmers’ Market resulted in some sun burn and a couple of peaches and a drop into Barneys for brunch. The worst food and service we have had in the US to date. Cold tacos, indifferent service and luckily for them, a reasonable if not delayed cappuccino. We tipped $2 and left in a huff. A stroll to the end of the Santa Monica Pier followed where we observed the LA masses promenading and indulging in sideshow entertainment, roller coaster rides and junk food. The remaining masses were shoulder to shoulder on the wide sandy beach or alternatively bumping into each other in the dumpy surf. Lady P wanted to ride a bicycle from Santa Monica to Venice Beach. So, we let her go and the Major and Flashman headed out like a couple of former infantrymen, on foot. Boy oh boy, what a dump Venice Beach is. Firstly we noted not an insignificant number of people talking to their imaginary friends, quite loudly and with some venom on occasion. “That’s what drugs can do to you,” the Major notes. Dirty little tarts, homeless people, crap musicians,cheap T-shirts and the worst artworks on sale you can imagine. We push on though, keeping Lady P in sight until we come to the Venice Bistro, where we need hydration. Outside is a steel band drumming away. They were drug induced hippies from the 70’s, complete with a glazed eyed, wrinkly, dancing lady, swaying (in her mind, in time) to the music. Luckily, we come to the end of this dodgy place and get picked up by Lady P in the car after she dropped off the bicycle from the hire place. A swift drive by indeed. We head home to West Hollywood at a rapid pace, via the scene of the ‘lemonade-gate’ grog shop debacle that the Major was in and did not buy grog on our arrival. He plans a stiff rebuttal in his blog regarding he whole incident. Luckily for us, a Japanese sushi bar was open and while Lady P investigated the shoe department of Target, the Major and Flashy had a beer and sashimi. After discussions on the choice of a dinner venue and a suggestion that we make a reservation, we head to Franco on Melrose, an Italian Restaurant, number 28 out of 8082 on Trip Advisor and amazingly it's just at the end of our Street. It was very good with excellent beef capaccio, ravioli, lobster pasta, beef cheeks and a decent Italian white after the bottle of Prosecco. On the walk home, we decided that a cocktail or at least a nightcap was in order, so we went back to the Mud Hen Tavern. There we met Dave. “Where are you guys from?” "Australia," we say. “I’m from Sydney,” he says. Turns out that he is ‘an actor by trade’. Mmm.. Apparently he was in Home and Away for three years. So what’s he doing serving bar in West Hollywood? Like all of them, waiting on being discovered of course. A nice enough bloke, though - but he measures all spirit pours. Just our luck, to find the only bar in America that measures the spirit pours. Nonetheless, we have our nightcaps and buy a bag of doughnuts for tomorrow's breakfast and head home.