I'm sure we will never visit the Greyhound station in downtown L.A. again in our lives. The guide book didn't lie when it said the area was a little seedy. The journey to Palm Springs was eventful, two major looking crashes on the outskirts of Los Angeles followed by the baggage doors of the bus opening thirteen miles from our destination. Thankfully no bags were left scattered over the highway and after some makeshift repairs the bus dropped us off in the searing heat of the desert. Unknown to us, the Greyhound station in Palm Springs closed the week before. The new drop off point was in a small car park next to a row of small stores miles from anywhere. Well that's how it felt and looked. Luckily the payphone had a yellow pages enabling us to call a cab. The heat was like nothing we had ever experienced, the closest thing I can think of is when you open the oven door and get that blast of heat. Only here it was constant, we were in the oven.
Relieved to be at our hotel we just relaxed, waited for the sun to go down a little before venturing out. It was Thursday and the main street closed and became a market full of fresh fruit and vegetables, art & crafts and the odd eccentric musician performing on his electric double bass. A fan blowing his receding blond hair from his shinny tanned face. We didn't get up to much in Palm Springs, abandoning our plans to the Joshua Tree National Park due to the heat. We'll try that again one winter time in the future, for now though we just relaxed recharged our batteries and swam in the pool. A nice change after the hectic times in the cities and in preparation for Las Vegas.
Cheers.
I'm sure we will never visit the Greyhound station in downtown L.A. again in our lives. The guide book didn't lie when it said the area was a little seedy. The journey to Palm Springs was eventful, two major looking crashes on the outskirts of Los Angeles followed by the baggage doors of the bus opening thirteen miles from our destination. Thankfully no bags were left scattered over the highway and after some makeshift repairs the bus dropped us off in the searing heat of the desert. Unknown to us, the Greyhound station in Palm Springs closed the week before. The new drop off point was in a small car park next to a row of small stores miles from anywhere. Well that's how it felt and looked. Luckily the payphone had a yellow pages enabling us to call a cab. The heat was like nothing we had ever experienced, the closest thing I can think of is when you open the oven door and get that blast of heat. Only here it was constant, we were in the oven.
Relieved to be at our hotel we just relaxed, waited for the sun to go down a little before venturing out. It was Thursday and the main street closed and became a market full of fresh fruit and vegetables, art & crafts and the odd eccentric musician performing on his electric double bass. A fan blowing his receding blond hair from his shinny tanned face. We didn't get up to much in Palm Springs, abandoning our plans to the Joshua Tree National Park due to the heat. We'll try that again one winter time in the future, for now though we just relaxed recharged our batteries and swam in the pool. A nice change after the hectic times in the cities and in preparation for Las Vegas.
Cheers.
No comments:
Post a Comment