Palm Springs

Before I say anything else, a HUGE thank you to my friends Kevin and John, who invited me out to their weekend retreat in Palm Springs and were such amazingly generous hosts that I spent far less money on my vacation than I would have had I just stayed at home in New York.

Really, the trip couldn’t have been better. By nature I am an early riser, so with jet lag working in my favor, I arose about 6 each morning, still feeling like I had slept in. Each day began with a little yoga by the pool in the backyard under the palm trees, and then I would walk about 20 minutes (a mind-boggling distance, by southern California standards) to the nearby Albertson’s to get coffee.

Architecture and décor in Palm Springs is something the mo’s refer to as “Mid Century Modern,” a style whose most influential interior designer seems to have been Judy Jetson. I think my desert tastes are more in line with Santa Fe, where architecture tries to be in harmony with the natural surroundings while drawing heavily on native influences. Palm Springs doesn’t harmonize with the desert, it waters itself into atonal tropical lushness.

Every afternoon was spent reclining by the pool, sipping cocktails, and going for a quick swim when the 100º + heat became too intense. I really, really, really enjoyed being that lazy. During the entire trip, I never once checked email or read a newspaper or paid any attention to the world at large. The days would conclude with hot-tubbing under the stars, champagne or cocktail in hand, until my brain was gently boiled into mush and I slipped quickly into deep, relaxed sleep.

Highlights of the trip included visiting The Living Desert, a very chi-chi brunch at Spencer’s, and drinks at Toucan’s, the only bar in the country that accepts Medicare. Really, the best part was just soaking up the sun while getting better acquainted with my iPod.

Monday we drove back to K&J’s place in West Hollywood, and then had a couple of drinks at The Abbey and Fiesta’s, where I met up with my old pal Audrey, whom I’ve known since sixth grade. Audrey then took me off to a barbecue in Sherman Oaks, where I impressed the Angelenos by saying I live on Manhattan’s chic Upper North Side.

*****
Even though I still think Southern California is a bit weird, I just feel so much more at home out west than I do in New York, despite living here almost 13 years. Neither area has the perky efficiency of customer service in the Northwest, but in LA it’s due to a relaxed, easy-going attitude, instead of hostile apathy generously mixed with incompetence. New York, in typical fashion, welcomed me back by losing my luggage.