Venice Beach is for those who refuse to nap by the pool. It’s an unchecked buffet–part street fair, part beach party–known for its dreadlocked locals and grassroots capitalists.
There’s no stifling it. Los Angeles authorities have spent decades trying to reign in the wave of vendors and performers that dominate the pavement and spill out onto the sand. But the second they take someone out, someone else springs up in their place. It’s amazing.
You can find anything you want there. There’s artisans selling homemade crafts, stacks of handmade clothing, and fortune tellers sitting cross-legged on rugs. Every few feet, there’s another cart hawking Sonoran hot dogs, elote, street tacos, and burritos. Messy hamburgers are a local favorite. It’s all a product of endless experimentation and an appreciation for art.
Venice Beach is bohemia at its finest. It can’t be gentrified or diluted. The locals refuse to conform. They’re the real creators. They follow their passion wherever it takes them, and through their devotion, they’ve inspired others to do the same. Chefs, guitarists, and street fashion designers all flock there to learn from the best.
Tourists visit because they can’t stand to confine themselves to a tailored experience. They won’t shell out piles of money for some corporate distraction. They want to immerse themselves in the essence of a space, taste local food, see local craftsmanship, and really get out and explore. That is what traveling is all about.