Back to Palm Springs, back to an apartment we rented last year, back to watching the sun setting behind Mount San Jacinto. Snowbirds.
Modernism Week (actually 11 days) has started in Palm Springs. Attended a lecture where an architect dissected Mid Century Modernism. He advocated for incorporating MCM principles and against stubborn reproduction. My favorite principle is optimism.
Walked through four units designed in 1947 as a prototype for a planned community that never transpired. The architect, John Lautner, who was an apprentice of Frank Lloyd Wright, went on to bigger things.
Hiked a loop in Indian Canyons on the Agua Caliente Indian Reservation: Fern Canyon Trail, Vandeventer Trail, and Palm Canyon Trail. It was shirt-sleeve weather (70’s) with snow visible at 10,000 feet.
Wandered inside and outside a Desert Modernist house, built 1946, designed, lived in, and extended by architect Robson Chambers. He was a business partner of architect Albert Frey who, in 1946, designed the building where we’re staying.
As we walked, we had to remind ourselves to stop and take in our surroundings. It was like walking through a vast botanical garden. Clouds were coming in, which will bring a drop in temperatures and maybe some rain for a few days.
Gassed up the rental car before returning it to Avis. In one week, the Prius sipped 1.8 gallons and proved we can do without a car for a while.
Walked in rain to a lecture about architect Walter Gropius. Back at our apartment, read by the (gas) fire and looked up at fresh snow on the mountains.
My morning walk took me past former homes of Cary Grant, Bob Hope (photo shows service entrance), and Steve McQueen. I also walked into a Walgreens pharmacy hidden inside a clinic and a donut shop with almost no donuts.
Explored the palatial mid-century former Annenberg family home at Sunnylands, near Palm Springs. Today it’s a retreat for global leaders, focused on the Asia-Pacific region. Most US presidents from the past 50 years have attended international meetings here. (Indoor photography was forbidden.)
Hiked trails above Palm Springs. The weather is returning to seasonal normal, so we wore shorts and no jackets. The recent rains have temporarily greened up the desert.
This morning a friend sent me the address of a vacation house her family rented back when Modernism was modern. On my walk, poked my phone through the high hedges, potentially inviting a police presence. Learned it was built by a Hollywood actor who almost won an Oscar.
Celebrated new haircuts with a bar lunch. “Two IPAs,” I ordered. “Grapefruit IPA or straight IPA?” asked the server. “Straight,” I responded, which felt odd considering the venue.
Hiked the South Lykken Trail. Up high, snow was sticking around; on the trail, temperatures were in the 60’s. For some reason, The Flintstones Theme became an earworm. The topography surely provided inspiration for Desert Modernism and the fictional town of Bedrock.
Today’s walk took me: under “The Bridge of Thighs” connecting two halves of a nudist resort; later, a front yard the artist/homeowner filled with huge, garish, improbable sculptures made from found objects; next, a block away, Twin Palms, Frank Sinatra’s forever cool former home.
On my urban walk: refueled at a donut shop where I had a nice chat with the person ahead of me in line while her order for seven dozen assorted donuts was being fulfilled one-at-a-time; guilted by Girl Scouts to buy cookies; filled my large backpack at a supermarket.
On my walk, two women asked me to point them towards celebrity homes. I waved towards Marilyn Monroe’s (shown here) and Liberace’s, then helped them install an app that gives map and verbal directions to a bunch of homes. They continued their walk, now with purpose, squealing with delight.
On my walk, looked around a hotel populated by conventioneers who may never leave the property except to fly home. I can enjoy a night or two in a place like this, but it’s poor value: I don’t sit by pools or play golf or want to overhear business jargon.
Got the first of four radioactive infusions. For a few days there’s no kissing or flying, which is easy, as I’m in Minneapolis and Dwight’s in Palm Springs. When I do return to Palm Springs, I may set off an airport radiation detector, which could be interesting.
In Minneapolis I lay on the couch, grouchy, nursing a cold, periodically flushing out radiation. From Palm Springs Dwight remotely watered our apartment garden. The plants look good to me, but doubtless he’ll see issues when we both return to Minneapolis at the end of the month.
On my neighborhood walk, “an Americano for here” became “un Americano pour ici” in Café mon Amour where all the staff speak French. Edith Piaf sang her heart out while I lingered.
Lying low feels good while we both wait out stubborn colds. A 10-minute walk to a cafe for coffee and Madeleines provided a sufficient sense of accomplishment. We’d rather be up on the trails, but our bodies say otherwise.
Finalized details for picking up a car tomorrow. Rather than renting through a traditional car rental company, we’re renting peer-to-peer via the Turo app. Blue Betty (the car) will be waiting for us in a parking lot; we’ll find the key in a lockbox in a wheel well.
When you’re staying in a desert, you don’t expect to look out the window and see a rainbow. But there it was this morning.
A stream bed had come to life, cutting short our short walk. Recent rains have made any trail that crosses an arroyo (a normally dry creek) suspect. We backtracked and drove back into town to share a grilled cheese sandwich washed down with IPA.
On my morning walk past bars open to the sidewalk, people were getting a head start on St. Patrick’s Day celebrations.
On my neighborhood walk, found another Liberace house. For some reason this one made me think of a funeral parlor. Over the years he owned four homes in Palm Springs.
We’re both listless couch-dwellers as our colds work their way through. Created a pointless adventure to get me off the couch: did some online research, found an early Liberace house, a 10-minute city bus ride, found the house undergoing a remodel, walked back, returned to the couch.
Climbed above Palm Springs through a desert that had become a meadow. Sprained a knee, leading to an excruciating descent and a knee brace at Eisenhower Urgent Care. Rest is advised for a week, which is a bit like flying Delta One; Dwight reminded me he’s here for my safety.
With my wings (or, more precisely, a knee) clipped on this year’s snowbird trip, planned next winter’s trip. Reservations opened up today for our outbound travel day: used SkyMiles, Seattle layover (much cheaper than nonstop), exit row aisle seats on an otherwise empty seat map.
Today I’m reading about the opening up of Japan to the world from 1853 to 1873: Western gunboat diplomacy, the end of the Tokugawa shogunate, the beginning of the Meiji era, a time of rapid change and modernization. This period keeps popping up on my Japan travels, it’s interesting.
Crossed the road in the steps of people who bring our community together. Actually crossed many roads, grateful my errant knee felt good after 7,000 steps.
Paid 50 cents senior fare to ride a city bus to Desert Hot Springs on the other side of Coachella Valley. Walked through a land of strip malls. This honors a childhood tradition: my Aunt and I would ride a bus to the end of the line to see what was there; usually not much.
Complex Surfaces: Man and Disk; carbon fiber, automotive paint, Dwight; Palm Springs Art Museum. Elsewhere little kids interacted with art, giggling uncontrollably at breasts in a painting. Some adults walked, talked, oblivious to their surroundings.
Watched the sun set over San Jacinto from our balcony. The area in the foreground looks like jungle, but it’s residential. An ordinance prevents buildings from overlooking neighbors’ swimming pools.
While Dwight jogged, I wandered around the Palm Springs “mini financial district” with its listed mid-century bank buildings. This monument to mammon is influenced by Le Corbusier’s UNESCO-World-Heritage-listed chapel at Ronchamp, France.
Nightfall after a surprisingly good tip-the-fridge dinner. Tomorrow evening we’ll be home.
Economy, aisle, right behind First, a favorite seat with excess leg room. A lovely flight attendant gave me a rather generous pour of the wine they’re serving up front. This is a treat, I’m grateful, and just mildly numb.
