Having lived in the Northwest for years, through rain and bleak days of unrelenting clouds from November to May– both Moon and I really learned the value of sunshine the hard way.
Now that we live on wheels, the decision to head Southward for the winter was automatic, and we tried to find the warmest possible location to spend the coldest part of the year. As December advances in the U.S., the options for good weather narrow significantly, and plenty of vanners and RVers head for the Southwest deserts of Arizona and California.
And there was another draw to Palm Springs– an AirBNB we had rented for several weeks. As much as Moon and I love spending time together, living within 19 feet of space with a large dog can put a strain on any two people. After nearly 5 months of full-time living in the van, it was time to have some separate spaces for awhile.
The house felt like actual paradise– the host had mentioned the season was perfect for the grapefruit and orange trees in the yard, and the ability to pick fresh citrus every morning before breakfast had us feeling like we’d rented our own private island. Well, that and the tiki theme everywhere.
We also were lucky to have some friends who were eager to escape the cold climates they occupied, and spent a lovely holiday surrounded by folks who either didn’t want to fly home, or couldn’t– a sentiment which looked downright prescient once all the weather catastrophes unfolded over the rest of the country.
The weeks we spent in Palm Springs were leisurely– the days sometimes ran together, as we spent a ton of time doing downtime activities like floating in the pool, bathing in the sunlight, and idle time doing crosswords or playing board games together. Living in a van is freeing in so many aspects– but doesn’t ever truly allow you to let down your guard, and the peace of simply knowing where one was waking up and sleeping brought a welcome stillness and solace we hadn’t felt in awhile.
(And yes, that is Kylie Minogue Prosecco– when in Rome).
As you can see, Mac was pretty unsure about the pool. He worried every time we were in it.
Being as how Palm Springs has a reputation as a bit of a partyville, I am sure we could have painted the town– but the draw of a luxurious 6:00-AM-winter sunrise in December kept me going to bed early, so I could wake up with the dawn. We did some rough calculations and realized that Palm Springs got fully 2 1/2 more hours of sunlight per day in the winter than northern Seattle.
There is absolutely no filter on the below sunrises, by the way.
We weren’t total pool potatoes. We did some things– like…
The Palm Springs Vintage Market is pretty unrivaled for its quality and curation of vintage goods– while maintaining its reasonable prices. I expected such a handpicked selection of authentic vintage clothing, furniture, art, and glassware to be “retail”-priced, meaning, sold at an amazing markup. It was not. This vintage market is once-monthly, and if you are happening through town, chances are high of finding something impeccably-made and maintained for a fraction of what it’s worth.
Moon scored a Celine Dion t-shirt from the 90s for $20, a huge 90s cable knit sweater, a designer purse for $40, and I grabbed a couple of 70s cowboy shirts. Because we wear our limited clothing and use our items so often, they are prone to wearing out, at which point we can usually replace them by buying at antiques or vintage stores.
My love of bubble tea brought me to Tea Be Honest, a local I had never tried before, and I was impressed. This tea was made with high standards– freshly-brewed, not made from powder or concentrate– and the boba was tremendous, not over-sweetened, a common mistake of other shops, and especially the big chains (looking at you, Kung Fu Tea).
And we checked out the pastries over at Peninsula Pastry, a business run by a French couple. They only use French flour for their pastry dough, which might sound like a gimmick– but the result of the technique and ingredients was impeccable. The effect was a light touch, dough that bounced where necessary, and was dense where necessary, and crunched where necessary. It truly tasted like European pastry– a delight to find in the middle of the desert.
Knowing little about Palm Springs history, Mon and I signed up for a walking tour with the Palm Springs Historical Society. These were 2 1/2-hour tours, which I booked hoping the content would be dense. The topic was Modernist Architecture and the hotels that made the style famous in Palm Springs. And it was fantastic.
Our guide was a retired schoolteacher, who missed her class so profoundly that she elected to give tours with the historical society. Once an educator, always an educator. The group met at the Visitors Center, a building I had walked by unknowingly dozens of times– it was just set back from the main strip, a historic structure that was originally home to the White first family to settle the area, the McCallums.
We were delighted when our tour guide mentioned that a handful of women were the founding Mothers of Palm Springs– starting with Pearl McCallum McManus, who sold or leased many parcels of land that became the businesses that made early Palm Springs begin to thrive. Other women opened successful hotels, marketing a stay in the desert as a cure for what ailed, due to the warm and dry air. Little by little, Palm Springs became a destination.
There was plenty of evidence on our tour as to how successful these early pioneer women were. The major building periods of Palm Springs coincided with the rise of Modernism– and Palm Springs today has one of the largest surviving concentrations of mid-century modern structures in the world.
Modernist style was pleasingly spare, and even through these bungalows below were meant for the rich and famous, they were tiny by today’s standards of luxury– only around 900 to 1000 square feet. For the glamorous, they often included a dressing table and one could coordinate with the concierge for extra perks (Joan Collins liked to have 7 packs of cigarettes– 3 unwrapped– delivered to her bungalow each and every day she was in residence.
Of course, the tour covered some of the many celebrities who have called Palm Springs a home away from home– being so close to Los Angeles: famed stars, musicians, and athletes, often found tranquility in the tiny hamlet. Our guide explained that residents tended to leave them alone, ignoring their fame– something celebrities coveted. And that subtle behavior had as much to do with the rise of Palm Springs as a destination, as any other factor.
We learned so much, we pledged to do a different Historical Society tour if we ever came back.
The holidays in sunny California can feel surreal, with temperatures in the high 60s and 70s– Christmas day reached 80 degrees. We decided to mark the holiday with our own little tree, purchased via the Rite Aid for $10– and Palomas made from our host’s own grapefruits. Everyone brought a few ornaments, and we bought some at the vintage market to supplement and WA-LAH!
We were also lucky enough to be in-town for the Palm Springs Gay Men’s Chorus holiday show, “Naughty or Nice?”. Running only 3 nights, we found out they had been working on this spectacular performance since September. And it showed in the crispness of their vocals and the fun arrangements.
Including men of all ages, the chorus (like Palm Springs itself) skewed a bit older, and it was sweet to see septuagenarians up there singing in their holiday sweaters. The cheeky dancers leant more fun to the show, which benefitted a local charity. If we weren’t in a holiday mood prior, this definitely set up the season. And I really enjoyed their collaboration with a few opera singers– one from New York, and one from Southern California– their voices made the walls of the room reverberate.
We did so much in Palm Springs, I couldn’t fit everything into one post. So, I’ll begin another shortly to share about how we ended our weeks in Palm Springs… to close for now, here’s the dogs of the house enjoying laying out in the sunshine by the pool.
It’s a hard life, but these pooches were up to the task.
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