SIX WEEKS in Solana beach. Is one way to define my time spent there. But there are a few better ways to measure it. Maybe in the cups of coffee that we had (average of 1.2 a day) the amount of times we went to the beach, how many times I ordered the Insanity bowl at Mozys, the new friends I made. You could measure it by the minutes that we laughed, or the different shades of tanlines on my ass like a paint swatch. Maybe you could measure it in the ubers we took, the avocados we ate, the scarves we bought, amount of parties we went to and people that we squeezed into one bed. 6 weeks sounds too long yet too short. It flew by, but I crammed so much love, life, and friendship into this one small sliver that I have to give it back and write my love letter to Solana beach.
Good morning Solana beach. I love spending mornings with you. Waking up to a soundtrack of waves rushing up the sand. Lacing up my running shoes first thing and rhythmically hitting the pavement with my feet. Some mornings its foggy and overcast, and those are my favorite ones. The town feels sleepy. It still feels like a dream. Sometimes I run down the coast, past the campsites and past all of the restaurants our friends work at night. Other times I turn, cross the railroad tracks, and run the dirt paths that loop around the lagoon and overlook the ocean. Sometimes I get so in the zone that the miles fly by.
Once my runs are done the whole day is an endless amount of possibilities. Maybe we will grab our skate boards, and head to grab some coffee. Skating, bombing the hill right before Java Depot, trying to push the thought out of my mind that if I fell right now, I would skid about 10 meters and have some gnarly scabs. But surprisingly, even though I sometimes stumble, I never really eat it. Thank you for that.
Coffee, where do we get coffee? That is perhaps the biggest question of our day because it sets the tone for the entire day. Are we going to start our day with an iced coffee from Java Depot? Sit outside on the yellow tiled tables big enough for us to spread out our sketch books and journals. We can get lost in a trance of sketching, coloring, creating.
Or maybe we will go to Lofty, say hi to all of the rad babes that work there, and try whatever they suggest for us that day (with a massive vegan chocolate chip cookie too). Sit there and enjoy an interesting blend of Mexican mocha, house made nut milks, and the blend of people working there, singing, laughing, and dancing towards you with your drink. Maybe we decide to make a morning meal of it and go to Naked Café, a special spot under palm leaves with drinks like the Fairy Dust Latte or a Pumpkin Latte. Maybe we go down to Encinitas and get a cup at Java Hut, say hi to the boy with blue eyes who makes us Chai Bombs. Maybe we go even further down towards Pannikin, an old Yellow house that used to be the train station. We will send out a mass text to all of our friends and patiently wait under yellow umbrellas for them all to arrive, telling us stories of what happened on their shift, or what happened the night before, and we sit there making plans for the rest of the day.
I love going up to Grand View, our most frequented beach. The black, sparkly sand that burns your toes and the crystal clear waves curling and folding. Some of our friends are there surfing, so I swim out past the breaks, diving under the waves, flipping over and watching them surf over me. I spend so much time in the water on perfect days like these that I get seasick. India and Aisling sprawl out on patterned blankets, splitting grapefruits between them. Laughing so hard and yelling at me for getting sand on basically everything.
We alternate between diving through the waves and rolling in the sand for hours on end, until we get hungry or somebody has to go to work. Then its reluctant sighs, and sad goodbyes as we trudge up the stairs and wander back to the car, asphalt on bare feet.
When all of our energy is spent and we are all sunned out, we have lovely quiet afternoons. Maybe we will go to the bluffs, hop the gate and sit with our legs dangling off the cliff. Watching the waves peel back and forth and think about nothing or think about everything. We bring our journals here, we bring our friends here. We bring good conversation here and trucks here for us to all sit in the back. Maybe we will bring some food from whole foods at an odd hour in-between lunch and dinner.
More important than the places we go is perhaps how we get there. Cars where we were endlessly trapped by the sound of songs we all knew the words to. Taking turns rapping, making up dances, passing off the imaginary microphone and passing around an imaginary joint during Colt 45. India with her feet out the windows, eyes closed, and scarf fluttering in the wind.Dever with his entire body out of the car window, all of us laughing. Sometimes we get in the car and everyone has scarves around their heads and shades on, cool as hell.
Afternoons spent in Aisling’s room. Her door open to the backyard, and windows filtering through the waning daylight. A loud stereo, and plenty of space to dance around. Covers filled with sand that we all cuddle up in, salty skin, tired eyes.
Thank you Solana Beach for the most unforgettable summer.