SoCal beaches are so interesting, in a way that made me realize I could never live here, not to be a Debbie Downer or anything. The weather was beautiful, the sand soft, the little courts of beach shacks (some not so shack-like) quite cute, and the sweet little Mexican woman who owned the taco shop we ate at as friendly as could be. Yet I can honestly say I never really felt happy the whole day we spent at Pacific and Mission beaches. Maybe it was because for some reason I couldn't shake the feeling of being cold all day. Maybe it's the fact that I have painful burns on the backs of my legs. More likely however is how shallow and "unreal" it all seemed. It was an endless sea of pectorals verging on becoming breasts, lame frat bros and trashy women, and the older generations trying hard to live up to their so-called glory days by partying hard with the youngsters. I was happy to head home.
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