Sunday, April 26, 2009


Normally I go the coast to experience the infinity of the sea and the clean reality of sand and rock and mist and salt spray. Also, I enjoy the towns--rough and beautifully blended into the coastal landscape. Mostly these are small communities, each having a coffee shop, at least one used book store, and a conspicuous absence of franchises.

Then there is Seaside.

Seaside is everything that the rest of the coast is not.

It feels like the kind of place where masses of toiling factory workers went to take their leisure during the height of the industrial age. And, not surprisingly, the crowds there are largely working class.

It's huge and commercial, but in a 1920s way that reminds me of the resort towns that flourished along the Eastern Seaboard 80-years ago.

Bumper cars, candy shops, old-fashioned arcades, mid-Twentieth Century kitsch...

It's a fun place, all the more strange and lovely for all it's misplaced Art Deco glory.

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