Day 3 – No luggage !!
We slept a little better last night than we had the first night, but we were still awake long before the alarm. Once again, I donned my Target jeans as well as my Target t-shirt, and put on my Target flip-flops. Then I went into the bathroom and washed my face with Target cleanser and applied my Target makeup, eyeliner and mascara. My hair… forget it. I scraped it back into a short ponytail from which stray strands of hair constantly escaped and untidily framed my face.
We got the coffee machine going and I enjoyed a cashew nut and granola breakfast bar along with a strong cup of coffee. It was strong because of the lack of those piddling little milk cartons that tend to squirt in all directions when you try to get the top off them.
Then we put everything into our rucksacks, which were packed to the gunwales with all the new stuff we had had to buy; some of it had to go in carrier bags. When we made our way downstairs and out to the coach, we were amused to see our fellow travellers all carrying Target carriers and wearing the easily-recognisable cheapy clothes. At least we were all in the same boat and we had to laugh about it, otherwise we’d cry.
Once we boarded the coach, we looked for the Post-It notes with our names on, and found we were two rows back from where we were sitting yesterday. It was still no escape from the bloody air-con vents, and I went down and asked Frank if I could have his yellow towels again, which he gave me.
Off we went, into the bright sunny morning. Our first visit would be to a place I’d never heard of, called Coronado. Coronado (Spanish for ‘crowned’) is a resort city in San Diego County, California, known for its striking coastal setting, rich history, and iconic architecture. Founded in the 1880, the city sits on a tied island connected to the mainland by a sandy isthmus that gives Coronado its distinctive geography.
Frank was pretty good in that he gave us plenty of comfort stops, as well as slowing down or stopping if there was anything of interest. Tomi used her mic to give us a running commentary of the area we were passing through, as well as telling us a bit about Palm Springs, where we would be spending the night. She tended to witter on and digress much of the time but I wasn’t really bothered, because if I need to know anything I can always look it up on Google.
Soon we came to a large expanse of water which Frank told us was San Diego Bay. To cross it, we had to go via an interesting bridge, the San Diego – Coronado Bridge, which was build in 1969 of pre-stressed concrete and steel girders. As it reached a height of 200 feet above the water and we couldn’t see the bridge below us from the windows of the bus, we had the disconcerting feeling of being on an aircraft, and taking off over water!
Presently, we reached San Diego and Frank went to park the bus. He asked us to be back in an hour and 45 minutes’ time, but for now our time was our own.
I loved the maritime ‘feel’ of San Diego, which has a full and illustrious connection with the US Navy, being one of the main Navy hubs in California. As such, there was a massive aircraft carrier here, the USS Midway, which now serves as a Naval museum. We decided to make our way towards it and have a look, although we knew we wouldn’t have time to make the tour.
The ship was huge. It’s American; everything is huge in the US. It had several aircraft and helicopters on its top deck.
It was built in 1945, just after the end of WW2, and was so massive it couldn’t transit the Panama Canal. USS Midway is known for being the longest-serving aircraft carrier of the 20th century.
In front of the ship, was a gigantic statue which was a replica of that famous (or infamous, depending how you look at it) photograph taken in Times Square on VJ Day, that one where an ecstatic sailor grabs a random passing girl and gives her a resounding kiss. To me, it illustrates the sheer joy of the end of the second world war, but I know that in more recent times some people feel differently about it.
There were several food and drink stands around, and the smell of barbecued meat and prawns reminded us that we were a little hungry. Not hungry enough to tackle a whole American sized portion of anything, but hungry enough maybe to share something. We found a place that also served draught beer (!!) and we took our places on a couple of bar stools, ordering our beer as well as a seared shrimp (what we would call prawns) taco and two plates. The guy was happy to oblige and the tacos, in soft tortilla, were delicious, plenty of spicy grilled prawns and salad in a piquant sauce.
It was then time to start making our way back to the coach for our next stop, which was to San Diego Old Town. This time it was Trevor’s turn to sit at the air-con vent, but it didn’t seem to be quite as Baltic this time, so Frank must have had a lot of complaints and turned it down.
We arrived at the Old Town; we had a couple of hours to spend here. Looking at its old buildings which were furnished in a style of times gone by, it reminded me immediately of the famous Beamish Open-Air Museum in County Durham, a place we have visited often.
There were old-fashioned houses, showing how people used to live, as well as old shops, such as an apothecary, draper’s shop, blacksmiths and sweet shop. We went into the latter and we bought a mix-up of the old sweets I used to enjoy in my childhood: barley sugar, peanut brittle and the like. We also got some home-made fudge, but that was a bit of a mistake because, instead of cutting the fudge into the familiar little cubes and putting them into a box for us, the shop-keeper just cut off one big lump and wrapped it in cling-film. It didn’t take long, in the warmth of the California day, to turn into a soft, shapeless splurge. I let Trevor finish it all. ☺
As we walked around, we heard music, and came to some outdoor entertainment featuring a couple of musicians playing Mexican-style music, as well as two ladies dancing in traditional costumes. We stopped for a while to watch them.
We then came across an elegant, old fashioned pub that was actually functional. We went inside and ordered a pint each, then sat at a high table and appreciated our surroundings. The pub had lots of ornate dark wood, a chandelier, big paintings featuring stern-looking Americans of note, as well as heavy velvet curtains. The one thing I didn’t like was the hunting trophies on the walls; the skulls of unfortunate animals, but I suppose they were of their time.
Around 3.30pm it was time for us to start making our way back to the coach for our onward journey to Palm Springs. Once everyone was on board, we set off for the journey; Frank advised we should arrive at the Hyatt Hotel around 6.00pm tonight, which included a rest stop at the half-way point. We hoped we would get there to find our luggage waiting for us. 🙂
Apart from the usual frigid temperatures inside the coach, we quiet enjoyed the journey to Palm Springs. It was pleasant looking out of the windows at the arid landscape and the distant mountains as well as people watching and taking in all the other sights as we passed through other towns and villages and shops. Around 4.45pm, Frank pulled up for a 15-minute stop to allow us to use the restrooms at a nearby garage/supermarket.
We arrived in Palm Springs just after six o’clock. The Hyatt was situated at N. Palm Canyon Drive, a long boulevard full of shops, restaurants, bars and other hotels. We wanted to try to find a shop selling small suitcases, to prevent us having to lug all our new purchases around in carrier bags.
Inside the hotel, our room key cards were already waiting for us; we had been allocated 209 on the second floor. As the concierge directed us towards the lifts, Trevor asked him if any suitcases had been delivered to the hotel. The answer, of course, was no. It looked as if I would have to wear my Target clothing again tomorrow! The white jeans were starting to look a little grubby now.
Our room was huge. It was actually a suite; we walked in through a large living room with TV, three piece suite, desk and coffee table. The sunny bedroom contained a king-sized bed and had another TV affixed to the wall. We also had a balcony with a small table and two chairs. The room and its furnishings was quite plain, but clean and comfortable.
We dumped our rucksacks and decided to go out to the shops. However, as it was Sunday and was now around 6.30pm, most of the shops were closed and we would be leaving in the mornng before they opened again. The few shops that were open were just those touristy holiday ‘tat’ shops selling t-shirts, fridge magnets, hats etc. One of them was selling large bags, but they were of the tote bag type that you’d use to cart your stuff to the beach rather than more robust luggage. We did see a luggage shop that was closed, but the sign above the door “VUITTON” ruled it out straight away! 🙂
As we were out anyway and were now starting to feel a little hungry, we decided to find a pub and/or restaurant and enjoy something to eat as well as a freezing cold beer. As we walked down the other side of the street, we came across “Mickey’s Mexican Kitchen” which was adjacent to (or it might have even been part of) an Irish pub called “Shamrocks”. The Mexican place had tables where you could sit outside and, as we made our way to a table, another group of four from our coach got their first. “Come and join us”, they said. They asked us if we were enjoying our holiday and we said that we were, but we would have been enjoying it a lot more if we had our luggage, full of clean clothes, with us!
Our Mexican food came. I had ordered enchiladas and they were accompanied by refried beans and tortilla chips. I washed it all down with a refreshing pint of lager, as we chatted to the other couples, who were joined by another lady and an older man. Two of the couples came from Southampton, while the older man, whose name was Mike, told us he would be celebrating his 80th birthday in Las Vegas; he spoke with a West Country burr and said he was from Plymouth. They were all lovely, friendly people and we enjoyed their company a lot.
After the others had said their goodnights and Trevor and I had finished our meal and our beers, we decided to enjoy a Guinness each in the Irish pub. It was certainly a popular place as it was packed out. We found a small table at an open-air ‘front porch’ part of the pub, and we were surprised to see ashtrays on the table until the unmistakeable waft of cannabis reached our noses; Frank had already told us that marijuana was legal in the States.
We sat and enjoyed our “pint” of Guinness. The reason I’ve used inverted commas around the pint is because a pint in the US is not the same as a pint in the UK. Ours are 25% larger – you only get 16 fluid ounces in the States whereas you get 20 fluid ounces at home. So when you factor in the smaller serving sizes of drinks here, it makes them quite expensive compared to prices at home.
As the pub was very noisy and the music intolerably loud, we decided, once we’d finished our pints, to go and have a nightcap in the hotel bar.
We arrived back just after nine o’clock, went into the bar and took our seats on a couple of bar stools. As we placed our order, the barman said that they closed at 9.30pm. What?! A hotel bar closing at half-nine?!
Trevor ordered a beer and I, spotting a bottle of Aperol, ordered an Aperol Spritz. Now I am particular about my Aperol spritzes; they have to be heavy on the Aperol and light on the soda water. This one, however, was the other way around. I gave it a good stir to mix the Aperol in properly, but the drink remained a pale orange colour, instead of the vivid orange you usually see. I tasted it and it was as bad as it looked, clearly the worse Aperol Spritz I had ever had, and a rip-off at $14.00.
When the barman asked how I was enjoying my drink, I truthfully told him I had had better Aperol Spritzes in my time. He looked a little taken aback and asked me what was wrong with it. “You could put some more Aperol in” I suggested to him. He brought over the bottle and filled my glass until it was the nice, bright orange colour. “Much better” I told him, after having a taste. 🙂
At 9.30pm we left the bar and returned to room 209, where I opened one of the 200ml Tetrapaks of Chardonnay that we’d bought yesterday. I only had half of it before a great wave of tiredness overcame me (we were still not completely over the jet-lag) and I decided to wash my face and clean my teeth before settling down to bed. We had been given a departure time in the morning of 8.30am, so I set the alarm for 7.15.
This time, we slept reasonably well.