If Pepperdine has truly failed me in any way, it has been in nurturing my inner hippie.
Sure, I have become more eco-conscious in my time here, but I still shower almost every day and own more button-down shirts than tie-dye items. The campus’s steep hills have also stunted my cycling career. To address these issues, I set out with a couple friends to spend a day biking in Venice, exploring this untapped well of personal growth potential.
This one was on my Pepperdine bucket list mostly because of the opportunity to break from the day-to-day routine. Venice is part out of control flower child fest and part manicured mimic of its Italian counterpart. It is full of vibrant creativity, both in the colorful graffiti and murals adorning hostels and thrift stores and in the clever architecture of the river houses.
We rented beach cruisers from a grubby bike shack near the shore and set off. The sun warmly encouraged our trek as we rode down the path, which traced the edge of the beach. Going into the day, I had romanticized visions of henna tattoos and well-exercised personal freedoms.
Personally, the hippie practice I would most like to adopt is the re-wearing of the same outfit over and over while neglecting to launder it. The economic benefits of this are obvious, and it would save me a lot of time to not have to pick new clothes every morning. I also admire the ruggedness of those who live outdoors and have the freedom to pack their belongings in a backpack and travel at will. (It’s possible that I’m more interested in hobo culture than hippie.)
Bike riding on the beach turned out to be a blend of idyllic peace and fierce competition. We rode along with the warm breeze blowing through our hair, cheerful seagulls exploring the beach, and angry cyclists shouting the walkers off the path.
A few minutes into the ride, I regretted turning down the helmet at the bike shop. Curse my helmet hair-averse vanity. The walkers, despite the clearly painted “bikes only” signs, weren’t afraid to claim dangerously slow strolling rights.
Families with small children were the biggest hazard, because they walked hand-in-hand across the entire lane and stopped unexpectedly when the children found an interesting piece of dirt on the road. The walkers and bikers weren’t shy about calling each other out in their annoyance. “Passing on the left of the BIKE path!” Give peace a chance, people.
We hopped off once we reached the seedier area of the city, in search of lunch. Our foray into this district of Venice lasted exactly as long as the time it took me to order and eat a bean and cheese burrito from Big Daddy and Sons Pizza, an eatery that unapologetically brings the state fairs of the Midwest to California with deep-fried pizza and Oreos.
The streets were crowded and hectic. We felt something pulling us back toward a more orderly society. It was probably our strait-laced upbringings combined with anxiety from passive-aggressive bicycling. A friendly stranger missing some teeth and his shirt wished us a nice afternoon, and we turned back to retrace our route and return our bikes.
Because my companions and I were females with eyes and stomachs, the afternoon of cultural immersion devolved into window-shopping and lemonades on Abbot Kinney Boulevard. Along Abbot Kinney are quirky stores full of mesmerizing books no one needs, about how to play the harmonica or ironic tattoo fonts. Though this is the less eccentric side of Venice, it is just as exploration worthy.
We walked along the canals and admired the houses, imagining the fascinating lives of people who lived in homes with stained-glass windows and rowed down the street to visit their neighbors.
Ultimately my afternoon in Venice provided a little exercise and sunburn, along with a relaxed exploration of one of the more creative parts of Southern California. I encourage those who make the drive out there to have more forbearance than I and spend some serious time poking around the crazy side of town. It will pull you out of the neat, put togetherness of Malibu. And take the bike helmet for safety, please.
