Installment #53 in Monolisticle's Ongoing Campaign Against the "Internet of Endless Listicles."
Aside from the places where I've actually lived, if I were to add up all my business trips to California throughout the years, I’ve spent more time in Santa Monica than anywhere else in the world. I recently stayed there over a month on business, and I was reminded of all the many things I love about it:
The enviably temperate climate. The ubiquitous scent of flowers. The Huevos Rancheros at Cora’s Coffee Shoppe. The Office Burger at Father’s Office. The sashimi and rolls at Sushi Roku. The Truffle Parmesan Fries at Chez Jay. The art books at Arcana (which has re-located to Culver City). The giant fig tree and bungalows at Fairmont Miramar. The ocean views, charming decor, and mojitos at Shutters on the Beach. And finally, my favorite place of all in Santa Monica: Palisades Park.
Palisades Park, or at least the section of the park that I most enjoy, is a narrow strip of putting-green-grade grass and meandering pathways up on the bluffs that stretches from Santa Monica Pier north a dozen blocks or so. It is always lovely and sometimes lively, depending on the day of the week and the time of the day.
Lined and dotted with an array of California flora, bushes and trees of all sorts, you'll find everything from beautifully scraggly and twisting scrubs to tall palms that run the length of the park and feel more rightfully at place here than anywhere else in California.
Walking through the Palisades, your attention will constantly be drawn in multiple directions: a magnificent view of the ocean will suddenly frame itself between an opening in a grove of trees. A gaze skyward will reveal a canopy of palm branches fingering outward as if to clutch a cloud in their grasp.
Or my favorite section of the park—the circular rose garden, where I can’t help but become a walking cliché as I literally stop and smell the roses. There is no resisting them. You'll find roses in almost every color that roses come in, each of them as full as the next and with its own distinct rose fragrance.
And finally, located at the point on the bluff where Wilshire and Ocean Boulevard meet, there is the pristine statue of Santa Monica herself, the city's namesake.
As with the roses, I always pause on my walk to acknowledge her, to think about life on a deeper level, and to appreciate this moment of wonder which I have been granted. Her polished stone always seems to catch the light just right and radiate a bit. Or it may just be the mood I'm in when I am there.
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