Heaven and Hell in the paradise of Palm Springs
“When the going gets tough, the tough get going.”
While the above adage apparently refers to professional football, it may also be applied to winter in Vancouver. It’s tough to live in a city where the clouds obscure the sky and the sun is only an occasional rumour. Of course, there is a simple solution to the conundrum. Simply act like a good Canada goose and fly south. Should economics not be of concern, you might try lovely Palm Springs, California, where the sun shines damn near every day and heat stroke — at least in the winter months — is not a concern.
The valley is named for the springs that bubble to the surface in certain locations, creating lush oases and tiny streams where Indigenous people survived for centuries untold until such time as Hollywood movie stars in the 1950s discovered the Coachella Valley was a good place to flee to and escape the annoying antics of the Los Angeles paparazzi, the stars building fine homes in what is now known as Mid-Century Modern, lovely one story ranch-style houses replete with swimming pools and Mexican gardeners.
It’s only a three-hour flight and then Bob’s your uncle. We booked a room at a motel for a few days, rented a car and set out to see the local attractions that might prove of interest should pale-faced Canadians aspire to spend more time in the future basking in the winter sunlight that averages a balmy 75 degrees Fahrenheit (23.8 Celsius), which is as good as it gets without cooking your goose.
A holiday package of airfare and accommodations offered by Expedia revealed we could stay at a Motel 6 for less than what is costs to fly to Moose Jaw, so we bit. Online photos revealed a swimming pool, palm trees and fancy cars parked in the lot. I thought Motel 6 had long since vanished into the mists of time, replaced by chains such as Best Western and Travelodge, but as a privileged travel writer used to free luxury accommodations on my many jaunts around the world, what did I know? All we needed was a place to park the car and sleep in between our explorations of the valley.
Many hotels around the world provide doors to the next room, which allows you to participate in the conversations in the next room whether you want to or not. After attempting for hours to sleep I trudged over to the motel office in my pajamas and bare feet to alert the manager that the person next door was either stone deaf or infatuated with late night television. A security guard the size of a professional football player with a giant Afro agreed to participate and the uproar next door ceased immediately, thank you very much.
The culinary delights of Palm Springs are endless, including Elmer’s Restaurant not far from our abode, where they provide American size breakfasts that would feed a small village, and downtown Palm Springs proved a delight, with its small shops and various museums. I even found one with my name on it, which was a first among the endless number of museums I have been forced to visit on my many press trips around the world. Sadly, as soon as the sun slid behind the mountain, the temperature dropped like a stone, revealing that it actually gets rather refreshing at night in the winter months of Palm Springs and a warm Canadian coat is essential.
The heater in our room at the motel did not prove a problem the first night, but the TV next door the next night did, so we turned on the fan in the bathroom that approximated the sound of jets at the airport taking off and thereby slept like babies. The following night became another noise issue and as Canadians we politely requested a change to a room — any room — without an adjoining door. This request worked out well until the late-night uproar in the parking lot right outside the door proved an audio challenge. It’s hard to sleep when there are strange people standing outside your door and yelling. Also, there appeared to be street people sleeping on the front lawn.
There are endless attractions in the Palm Springs region, both valley and mountains, and we attempted to explore as many as possible. The Indian canyons with their little streams were a delight and we also checked out the 1,000 Palms Canyon north of the valley (we didn’t count them all) and a Mid-Century Modern home tour was available. Locals love the endless bike paths and biking trails, and for Canadians there is even a brand-new professional hockey team and 10,000-seat arena that also books world class musical talent. What’s not to love?
The “loud next door” situation at the Motel Six the next night continued to prove difficult. We requested yet another room change. The manager inquired as to whether we would accept a second-floor room. Altitude is not a problem, I replied. We packed our bags and moved. All was well for a few minutes, allowing us to microwave the leftover Thai food from the night before, before the “next door noise” suddenly appeared again. I opened the door to look. A party next door was commencing. A young Black man was drinking a very large can of beer and shouting to his friends inside.
I went out to have another chat with the manager in what was becoming a regular dance. On my return to our room or neighbour had switched to smoking a large pipe stuffed with skunk weed, the reek of which soon enveloped our own room. Loud shouting emanated from his room. The possibility of fisticuffs arose. I descended again to the office and requested yet another room where we felt safter and where we would not be assaulted.
For those so inclined, there are many opportunities to shop for fashionable attire in both the town of Palm Springs and the rest of the valley. There are many designer shops, swank restaurants, over a hundred golf courses, and of course the mountain trails should one be so inclined. You could even drive around all the various neighbourhoods and goggle at the gorgeous houses, many of which architectural marvels. No one with a brain in their head would want to live here in the summer, where temperatures reach those of the inner sanctums of Hell, but Canadian snowbirds in Palm Springs are everywhere, some of whom actually live here all year thanks to ruthless air conditioning.
Homeless people, unfortunately, were also everywhere. One on the downtown main street writhed and jiggled endlessly while squatting on the street and playing with his phone. Who so surprised as I to find him the next morning writhing on a bench at the Motel 6 right next to our room? That night, upon returning to our room after another day of exploration, we found the keys to our room no longer functioned. I returned yet again, the fifth time, to remonstrate with the manager. The garbage cans were overflowing with empty cans of beer, but the swimming pool awaited, a future delight to be enjoyed when the weather heats up or when my temper cools down. Perhaps next time we try the Hyatt.