Home to our island!

We left you at the end of Disney day 2. Now we are back at home and recovered from jet lag. Fiona is a year older and also has no voice - what is it about flying that seems to guarantee a cold at the end of your holiday?

Anyway, our last day dawned bright and blue and we headed off in the trusty George to Huntington Beach. We found a car park OK but found it very difficult to pay! The place was heaving with surfer dudes who had other concerns - such as a very tiring tag surf race...The machine when finally found had run out of paper so we had to note a number and leave a handwritten note on the dashboard. A walk along the pier took us to Ruby's and views of pelicans for breakfast.

Karen is very grateful to Meg for the tip of the day - Club Soda removes ketchup from blue blouses - really it does!

We wandered back along the pier to watch the surfers and then into town to a post office for Karen to buy a money order and send a letter (more of this later...). Then with a sigh and armed with leaflets about what to do in an earthquake thrust upon us by an insistent Fire Chief (sorry Lorraine), we pointed George in the direction of LAX.

As we started George reported that he needed an oil change but with only about 15 miles to go we decided to ignore it until we gave him back. A rather dull and uneventful journey led us to the outskirts of the airport. Fiona was reading the map when a coach driver shouted where do you wanna go? amazingly he told us how to get to the rental return car park - just can't imagine anyone doing that at Heathrow.

Handing the car over was easy but they charged us for fuel we had already paid for - we are getting it back now but that just adds to our determination not to use that particular company again.

We checked in and went through security at which point Fiona remembered that there's very little to do at LAX and very limited duty free. We also discovered that Karen had left her glasses at the counter in the post office. A call to the office found them and a very helpful guy has promised to send them to us. It's typical of our trip that people were unfailingly kind - the woman at Route 66 (cafe in LAX) brought a sharing plate of food when she saw how upset Karen was about her glasses.

Karen trying to look happy at the end of our trip...











And so to Heathrow - we spent about 45 mins circling and swooping above the runway as the gales and rain caused flight delays and prevented us from landing. A really peaceful pleasant flight ruined by those last minutes - God knows what will happen if they do get another runway. We made a note to fly from somewhere else if at all possible.

So, it's goodbye from us - we can show you all the other photos if you like!

Thank you to everyone who gave us such generous gifts and made this truly a trip to remember

Love
F and K xx

Shiny, happy people

Our second (and full) day at Disney started with breakfast at Downtown Disney at La Brea Bakery. Then we hit the rides, as only two older women with a mission can do. Thanks again to Ange with whom we agree that yes, it's too good for kids.


First up, we got a Fast Pass to the Indiana Jones ride, and then went and queued for a remarkably short space of time for the Pirates of the Carribean. Both are really impressive in terms of lighting and animatronics. We then went on a bit of a train ride, charmed by Vern who asked us both if we were married - which of course we both are.

Vern, who is 70 and could pass for 60 in a harsh light, obviously finds the flirting good for his cholesterol.

Next up was the Matterhorn Bobsleighs with costumes of VERY dubious Swiss origin (and chosen no doubt for the gay boys supervising the rides) a bit of a splash or two and then on to Star Tours where the teenager next to me texted the whole way through the ride....

Much more interesting was the parts of Disney's California Adventure Park which helped you understand a bit more about the making of the park, and the pictures. So we attended the Animation Academy, where we both drew a pretty passable Pooh Bear, and the Sorcerer's Workshop, where there was some interactive fun and the clever stuff behind Turtle Talk with Crush...more adult than most of the attractions here, and a welcome breather from all the breathless twinkliness.

Although the twinkliness WAS fun (see below right for the Disneyland Castle),
it was also rather pleasing for two grumpy old women from the UK that not all - in fact, a great many - of the workers, far from looking shiny happy people, looked as though they'd rather be doing something else, and the Australian woman who looked through our bags when we came in was very obviously not a morning person.

Having heard all the stories, this was faintly heartening -a human stand against the tide of almost inhuman niceness. Because after all, as the great David Ogilvy said, although you can rely on a chocolate bar to delivery your brand, this is because it doesn't have a row with the wife, get PMT, or have a rough night with the kids. People, as well as being the greatest strength of Disney, are - for customers at least - its greatest potential weakness.

This is not to say we had a bad time - Karen got a badge to say that this was her first time (not surprisingly from Vern) and Fiona is firm in her conviction that everyone should do this at least once. And if the weather wasn't stunning, neither did we have to wait in line for the rides for very long.

And this, friends and family, is almost the end of our trip. Rather than have a somewhat nondescript breakfast at the Crown Plaza, we're off to Huntington Beach, and to Ruby's on the Pier.

We fly at six and we'll doubtless be doing our final blog sometime on Sunday or Monday evening.

The mouse with the ears

So, today after a leisurely (and complimentary) breakfast we headed west out of Palm Springs.



Yet again we were charmed by the readiness of US garage mechanics to help us when we asked where we could check our tyres. Kerry checked them for us with a smile and a wave (and a big air line!).


Palm Springs was getting ready for the Veterans Day parade so some diversions were necessary but soon we were back on the interstate. About an hour later we were pulling up at our final hotel. Proof today that we are two nations divided by a common language. for some reason we seemed to be talking at cross purposes about the free shuttle to Disney. we asked how we could get there - they said tell us when you want the shuttle, we said now, they said the last shuttle left at 11.00 and so it went until finally they realised we meant we wanted to go then and called us a cab. Sadly, London does not have the monopoly on bigoted cabbies. Ours started out OK and then proceeded to let rip on conspiracy theories about Marx, Churchill, the Masons and current politicians all wanting humanity to die etc. Frankly, we were glad to arrive at Disneyland - at least that's honest in its fantasy!

Karen is a Disneyland virgin and Fiona hasn't been for over 25 years so we were like a couple of big kids. We've Ange to thank for our passes (and yes it is too good for kids). Today was quite busy as it is a public holiday here. Hopefully tomorrow will be quieter and less time will be spent queuing.




It is all a bit sugary sweet and a stylised version of America as it never has been but we knew that before we came and it's part of the experience. We do wonder how parents afford to take big families around. Many were dealing with tantruming little darlings who just wanted everything but on the whole they were OK. There was one little boy with blonde hair screaming at his mother and working himself steadily into hysterics. Karen wanted to stay and be amused, but Fiona dragged her away to more adult pastimes.


We had a great meal in a jazz cafe (see staggeringly brilliant piano below) before being whisked back to the hotel by the shuttle.


An interesting conversation with our Chinese driver, where we asked him where the shuttle would leave from tomorrow and he answered with the times it would be departing....pass the mandarin dictionary, please.

Pampering in Palm Springs

Today, we have no photos taken during the day. This is because we were blissed out by a massage in the open air and haven't really touched down - except for Karen to get her pedicure.

Massive thanks go to Elaine, Frank and Ray and Charlotte for our serious pampering today...leaving us in fine fettle to hit Disneyland sometime tomorrow.

Oh, and by the way - our room was upgraded today due to some problems with plumbing in our original room, and these are our only photos on this posting. We hope you're not too bored!


The Mouse with the Ears happens tomorrow. Karen promises to try to keep her cynicism in check.

A lazy day in Palm Springs

Having driven about 1200 miles, give or take the odd hundred, Karen was keen to get some serious R&R. So today, after a breakfast at Ruby's (see below) and booking dinner at Melvyn's, we headed to the pool.


So that was it for our day today...novels, sunbathing and the odd swim. Utter bliss. Melvyn's was suitably sophisticated, and thanks to Jon Paul for our dinner there.

But, in lieu of a horizontal day by the pool, a few questions for our American cousins.

First and foremost, how DO they manage to stay in at least reasonable health? Karen had breakfast at 9am and it's now six and she still doesn't feel hungry. The plate of food she had placed in front of her would have fed a family of four. If Americans do eat breakfast (and they seem to, from a casual observation) how on earth do they keep their weight down?

Secondly, for a nation fuelled on coffee, why is it so bad? Brown watery stuff. Even the cafetiere of "good" stuff that Fiona ordered at the poolside wasn't very strong. Time to take some notice of the French and the Italians, chaps, if we might make the suggestion.

Thirdly - why is it that we have to tip so much? People get tipped for breathing here. When you request a service, it should be delivered. We might be old fashioned, but tipping should be for exemplary service, not just the act of doing what your job entails...shouldn't it? and if the wages aren't sufficiently high, then corporate America should be looking at their bloody profits and deciding that if people are their greatest asset (ha!) they should be paid as though they were a valuable asset.

And finally, in a boutique hotel which has an environmental conscience, why is it that the plugs on both the washbasin and the bath don't hold water?

This is your crabby, English, used-to-living-in-wet-and-dreadful-weather tourists signing off.....

cocktails for two

Palm Springs is also a bit like Stepford. Green lawns are immaculate, teeth are shiny, hair is glossy. The only thing we poor Brits have to be slightly happier about is that not everyone is thin.

We drove in yesterday mid morning, to miss the Pride Parade by about an hour. Still, no matter. We love our impossibly camp and gorgeous hotel, the Viceroy, and having dumped our bags, went in search of cocktails and some people watching.


We reckoned without what seems to us blistering heat, and eventually, we trotted back to wait for our room by the pool. There are worse fates.
Our new room overlooking the pool was suitably fabulous, rather like the margarita that Fiona indulged in. After suitable ablutions, we headed out into the cooling night to eat at Palm Springs' local good time joint, Las Casuelas Terraza. This was a place with a good, good live band, enormous plates of food and cocktails that came in goldfish bowls. Karen's dad, and many of our friends, would have had a ball. As indeed, we did.

Shamen and lay lines...and the odd margarita

Karen believes that if you've never seen a black sky full of a million, million stars from the warmth of the desert, and watched shooting stars flaunt themselves briefly in the night air - you haven't lived.

Admitedly, ten years on from Karen's last visit, things have changed a bit - a few more people, and the shooting stars are joined by a number of winking flights to 29 Palm Springs airport from LA. But this is place is high on Karen's list of favourite places on earth, and in essence, hasn't changed a bit. The food is still fabulous, the people are still so relaxed you think they might be liquid, the place is still spookily chilled, you can lose the will to live waiting for the toast to brown in the pathetic toaster and the water pressure is still dire.

From this temple of chilledness, we ventured into the Mohave Desert and the Joshua Tree National Park. A different kind of desert, Joshua Tree is haunted by stumpy, spikey trees which give the ark its name. In many respects, Joshua Tree can appear to have slipped down the ratings of awe - it's slightly less barren, slightly less impressive in the height of its ranges, slightly less huge than Monument Valley or Death Valley.... but nontheless, it's worth several second glances. Joshua Tree National Park

Warning...

Reason for warning - vicious things!
Karen looking chilled

In the centre of the desert, only Fiona would be able to find a farmers' market - but find it she did, in Joshua Tree, where a host of innocent looking, drawling Californians were looking to part us from our money. And they did, to a certain extent. But common sense, restricted luggage space and the US customs authorities prevented us. Like they would have prevented us adopting a kitten, Little Guy, a tabby with a PhD in cuteness.

Back to the 29 Palms Inn and a little swim before dinner. We could get used to this...

Stepford Wives live on in Kingman

There's not much will get Karen up at dawn, but as we had a long drive, our room at Monument Valley faced East and the light would have sneaked through the curtains anyway, we set the alarm for ten minutes before the sun came up. Dragging ourselves out of bed, groping, bleary-eyed for the camera, we threw clothes on and went out into the chilly, pre-dawn air and waited.

It was a spritual opening to the day. The pictures are below.



To 29 Palms from Monument Valley, a drive of 500-odd miles (and some of them very odd) wasn't (thankfully) very scenic or we'd never have got here, such is Karen's propensity to slam on the brakes and exit the car for a photo.

However, this is not to say that the trip wasn't memorable for other reasons. Here, we mention our server at a well-known diner en route to 29 Palms, who was so unrelentingly cheerful, we were looking for the "on" switch between her shoulder blades. Slightly more scary than our sunny server were the two ladies in the booth behind us, who responded in the same syrupy tones. For cynical Brits, this was a sterotype gone mad - and (once we'd got over the shock) hugely enjoyable. Although even now, we're not sure she was real. Her seemingly geniune response "That will be my pleasure." had us glancing around for hidden cameras - she'd not last five minutes in Streatham. Or fifteen in Crouch End.

A little way along we hit the legendary Route 66. Well, we thought it was Route 66, all the signs appear to have been nicked and it seems a bit under-repaired, even given California's parlous finances.
We stopped at Roy's gas station to be asked by a chap who obviously wasn't expecting us if we wanted gas.... This was when the sun was going down, so perhaps he thought something more exciting was happening.

Finally reaching 29 Palms felt like bliss. Eight and a half hours is a long time to drive.

from Las Vegas to Monument Valley

We left Vegas early (well, early for us, at any rate!) and having tipped all and sundry on the way out of the hotel, we stopped just outside at a petrol station for much-needed sustenance. The Iron Skillet - the food was great, the people very friendly (one guy helping us with what we're sure has to be a slow puncture) and we learned the true meaning of buffet....one chap let us in on the acronym that it stands for big, ugly, fat friends eating together. We didn't have the buffet! We have to say, we've found this explanation very helpful.

Tyre fixed, bellies full, we set out on the 400 or so miles from Vegas to Monument Valley.

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Ever heard of Zion National Park? No, neither had we until we passed through it on the way to Monument Valley. It's simply beautiful, and although we drove quite a way to Monument Valley in pitch darkness (not many street lights out here) we felt that it was worth it. Have a look below.Actually, we have lots of photos, but now we're in Monument Valley, we feel a bit isolated - our mobile phones don't work and although there is an internet connection, the wireless is a bit slow to upload... so we'll add more when we get to a larger place.

Although we arrived in the dark to our hotel, even we could see the view from our room balcony. This place isn't called "The View" for nothing.... we look down on the plains of Monument Valley, which by a big, buttery moon, is worth the drive.



Rested, today we took the obligatory tour through the valley, guided by a native American Indian with the exotic name of Brian. He was a briliant guide, although we wondered if he'd overturn the jeep on occasion. He sang songs, told stories and made connections between the Christian-based religions and the Navajo faith and made us think, yet again, that actually, we're all batting for the same team. Thanks to Kirsty and John and Sarah and Charlie for our tour.






Tonight, the moon rose behind Left Mitten, a huge whipped cream ball throwing an unearthly light onto an unearthly landscape. Wonderful stuff. Photos to follow!

The Divine Miss M and other bombs

Our last day in Vegas was sort of typical of the weird and wonderful place that it is. Eschewing the glitz and the sparkle, we headed to the Atomic Nuclear Testing Museum, which was a bit sobering, but completely fascinating.

Needing something lighter after all that science, we headed back to the hotel and sat next to the pool (third floor, just below the Eiffel Tower, just so you know) with a frozen strawberry daiquiri (Karen) and a margarita (Fiona)...and we're not sure of the spelling at this point, so forgive us.



THEN we changed to head off to see the Divine Miss M. What a pro. Brilliant seats, fabulous show, lots of bawdy humour and Miss Midler was in fine, fine voice. Thanks Lorraine!

Packing up, we set the alarm for early to try and get a head start from Las Vegas to Monument Valley, a journey of 400 miles and a couple of different time zones.....

The GRAND, Grand Canyon

"And this is the news at noon. The Government has declared a national shortage of superlatives. Adjectives are particularly scarce in the areas around Nevada, Arizona and the National Parks. A spokesman said that the newly formed Department of Explanatory Adjectives Relating to Tourism and Holidays (DEARTH) was working with scientists nationwide to solve the issue, which is expected to remain critical in the short to medium term.”

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The traffic out of Vegas was pretty dreadful, but we eventually arrived at Boulder City Airport and clambered onto a tiny plane (a Cessna Caravan, for the people who know about these things) seating only eight and carrying only six of us. So we had a really good view of Hoover Dam and the West Rim of The Grand Canyon. And once again, words failed us. So here are some of the pictures – thanks to Kate and Ashley for such a wonderful gift.

from the plane...


The Canyon's West Rim










Lake Mead....

from Death Valley to Las Vegas

Via a (frankly disappointing) ghost town and a much more interesting and amusing public art exhibition in the middle of nowhere – we headed to Vegas.

Some sculpture chap from Belgium decided that it would be a jolly wheeze to place a version of the Last Supper just outside Beatty. We decided it was in the league of Scotty's Castle, so off we went. We thought it fun.

Also fun was the invasion of 3,000 bikers for a weekend in Beatty, who all decided to leave for breakfast at the same time. They were mostly big and hairy – including the women – but actually rather sweet.

We arrived in Las Vegas in good time, and since I last came, about 13 years ago, it's all changed. We coped with the six line highway in to the city and drew up to the VERY extravagant Paris Las Vegas, complete with miniature Eiffel Tower and Arc de Triomphe. Plus a variety of stripey-shirted valets.

Again, the pictures tell their own story, so we'll let them do it for us.

A very special thanks to Sarah and Charlie, who bought us a ride in a gondola in the Venetian Hotel. We chose to take our ride inside, and were transported under a few bridges feeling a bit like we were extras in “The Truman Show”....something about the cyclorama stretched above us. To top everything, our singing gondolier was a charming lady name of Isabella (not too sure about the Italian heritage) who studied at the Mountview Theatre School in – you guessed it – Crouch End! Isabella, from Crouch End.... Just part of the wierdness that personifies Las Vegas......

Death Valley

“Good afternoon, do you have any superlatives?”

“No ma'am, we sold out of 'em about ten this morning.”

“ I see. We'll have to resort to gasps and blasphemy, then,”

The thing about Death Valley is that it's VAST. Death Valley is unforgiving, hot, and rocky. This place is a geologist's wet dream, the colours of the rocks like neapolitan ice cream melting in the hot sun, but that doesn't make it any prettier.

But beneath all the rocks and slag-like heaps of stone which make up Death Valley, are the gentler, glowing colours of 500 million years or so of the area's history, brought to life when the sun goes down. OK, so you wouldn't use “pretty” as an adjective for Death Valley – but you might use gobsmacking, awesome (which is American for gobsmacking), beautiful, dramatic, other worldly, eerie – and just plain weird. Some of the landscapes look like a film set for the landing of Apollo, or something off the front of a David Bowie album.

We've tried to capture some of these landscapes in our photos, but we're not sure that mere film does them justice.

Nor does it do justice to the maniacs who came here to try to tame the landscape – we visited the brilliant Scotty's Castle. This piece of classic American madness rises out of the rocks like a mirage, complete with false battlements, a fake Spanish heritage and a lot of tall tales. Well worth the admission price.

Tomorrow, we'll do ghost towns and then head to the biggest mirage construction of them all – Las Vegas.

Climb every mountain

We clambered into out best frocks for dinner at the Awahanee (thanks, Moyra, it was lovely!) and being wusses and not wanting to venture into the black blackness of Yosemite without streetlights, or, as far as we could see, any kind of reflective guides to steer you away from the odd one-hundred foot drop – we took the bus. Free, fast and as reliable as the sun rising, we'd recommend it.

The Awahanee was a bit like Fawlty Towers without John Cleese or Sybil, but with a pretty startling dining room, piano player and sky-high prices for wine. When we'd finished our meal, we called for the shuttle we were deposited gently back at The Lodge in about five minutes. Within another ten we were sound asleep, dreaming of deserts and maps.

So we left the lushness of Yosemite (which has, incidentally, possibly the nicest people on earth living there) for the hotter, harsher climes of Death Valley. You can imagine the Eddie Izzard sketch around Death Valley – the Pioneers, looking over this hot desert and saying things such as “Well, I wanted to turn LEFT at Fresno, but would he listen to me? And just LOOK at this place! Promised land? I don't think so!”



The drive was longer than we thought – not least because every ten feet Karen would pull over to take a photo – but after climbing to about nine thousand feet to make our way over the Sierra Nevada mountains, we eventually began to drop gently into Death Valley.....

Yosemite

Yes, it's official - we've run out of superlatives. Yosemite defies description and it's all on such a huge scale that - well, words fail us.

A bit of background - we're at Yosemite Lodge at the Falls, which is a bit motel-like but perfectly comfortable (and the restaurant was brilliant last night). We drove from San Francisco, made more complicated and slightly slower than it might have been as the Bay Bridge was out of action (a cable snapped, or something - looked a bit Hollywood). Having negotiated worse-than-usual traffic in SF to reach the Golden Gate Bridge, we eventually hit the various freeways and it was nice to see that they're having the same problems with roads that we do in London....dreadful, they were.
















We finally arrived slightly later than advertised yesterday and after dinner, the wine and altitude got to me...hence no blog.

However, back to normal today, and we were out nice and early to investigate the options for riding, star gazing and the like. We found to our disappointment, that all the rides were booked solid for a group of New York hoodlums and that star gazing happens on Wednesday nights - from 4.30pm.... so we're going to see if we can ride at Monument Valley.

So today, we walked a bit and then got on a bus to go to Glacier Point. We've said that words fail us in this wonderful place...so here are the pictures instead.