Handball courts

U-turning in San Diego, we headed back north to Los Angeles for what was the best part of the trip.

We wandered around Venice Beach admiring: the skateboarders who seem to have the laws of physics working differently for them, giant hulks of humans at Muscle Beach and a flamboyant 3 PM roller skating dance party that make you wonder why that isn't more common of a thing. In an effort to not look like someone living out of a van while living out of a van, I shampooed and conditioned at the beach showers meant to only wash off sand and applied mascara in the rear view mirror. One day, we rented bikes and rode from Venice Beach to Manhattan Beach, making our 3rd trip to Sloopy's (what a website!) and one night, we walked the Santa Monica Pier. Scott schemed ways to climb up to the Hollywood sign but had to settle for the view from the Griffith Observatory. But we learned a bit about space while up there which led us to creatively curse at each other "yeah, well, I hope you get hit by a moon rock" whenever we fought. We ate a retro diner in Los Feliz, gawked at the mansions in Beverly Hills, cruised Rodeo Drive and drank bad flat whites and good cappuccinos in Silver Lake. 

People hate LA but I can't say I mind it at all.