I'm a sucker for touring old houses. There's something fascinating about getting a peek into people's lives from decades past. My voyeuristic tendencies got their fill when I toured the Adamson House on Saturday. Once owned by the Adamson family (and now by the State of California), the house was home to a wealthy couple in the tile industry and their three children. There was a dairy fortune and a Spanish Land Grant somewhere in there, too.
The house sits just west of the pier on the primest-of-prime real estate in coastal Malibu, and once served as kind of sample house for tile available from Malibu Pottery. Construction started in 1929 and the house was finished in 1930. I was slack-jawed for the better part of the tour; beautiful tile, woodwork and craftsmanship abound. If you're ever in Malibu, go. It's well worth the $7.
Other daytime adventures included a dusty hike into Malibu Canyon, getting lost around Malibou Lake and buying entirely too many strawberries just for the sake of buying entirely too many strawberries.
I spent my last day checking off the final items from my to-do/see/eat list: a morning at the Farmers' Market, lunch at Malibu Farm on the pier (with a sighting of music mastermind Rick Rubin standing in line for the bathroom - stars, they're just like us!) and a hike around Point Dume. By late afternoon, I was speeding my way back to LAX to catch my flight.
Since my last post, I've received several questions about my "sister life" mention. Cheryl Strayed, the advice columnist for Dear Sugar (and who famously penned Wild), gave this advice to an enquirer once, and it stuck with me:
“I'll never know, and neither will you, of the life you don't choose. We'll only know that whatever that sister life was, it was important and beautiful and not ours. It was the ghost ship that didn't carry us. There's nothing to do but salute it from the shore.”
Malibu, I salute you.