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desperanceHullo, ridiculous; hullo, sublime.
This morning we went to the seaside and walked on the beach (was that Mission Beach? Or somewhere similar?), and I learned that if I am actually meaning to photo birds on the wing, I need better kit.
Also, those pelicans are laughing at me. Got out of the car, there was this enormous slow-flying low-flying pelican right there, almost close enough to touch. By the time I had my camera out he was gone, and I never saw another.
Then we drove to La Jolla, just because we knew how to pronounce it; and thence to Borrego Springs, which was like a lesson in geography writ large upon the landscape: up into the mountains, into the rainclouds, lamenting; and down the other side into clear skies and sunshine, rejoicing.
Which rejoicing lasted until we actually found ourselves - eventually, after looping-the-loop a little, 'cos we couldn't quite believe that that was it - in Borrego Springs, where we discovered the worst taqueria in California, at the very first attempt yet. Weirdly, Jilberto's has some good reviews on the internets, but truly: the food was tasteless almost to the point of being inedible. Utter absence of any spice at all, and that in a chile verde. Bad, bad, bad.
So we shook the dust of Borrego Springs from our feet and zoomed onward to Palm Springs, stopping en route to take pix and look at views and wave at state troopers (he waved first, so we figured it was okay) and gaze upon the Salton Sea, which is a bit of a weird thing.
Having arrived in Palm Springs, we checked into de luxe rooms (for lack of any other: compulsory indulgence, oh noes!) in a wonderfully chi-chi hotel where the population is significantly gay and the cute guy on the desk asked us in the discreetest way possible - did we want two queen beds, or a king? - whether we were a threesome. And gave us a discount when we asked for two rooms instead.
And since then there has been champagne and croquet on the lawn, for lo, it is![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
frumpo's birthday, and he is [incredibly young]; and we have sat upon the lounger by the pool and watched the stars awhile in this amazingly clean desert air, and now we are going to wander down into Palm Springs and see what there might be to eat and drink and such.
*Actually they're Rockports.
This morning we went to the seaside and walked on the beach (was that Mission Beach? Or somewhere similar?), and I learned that if I am actually meaning to photo birds on the wing, I need better kit.
Also, those pelicans are laughing at me. Got out of the car, there was this enormous slow-flying low-flying pelican right there, almost close enough to touch. By the time I had my camera out he was gone, and I never saw another.
Then we drove to La Jolla, just because we knew how to pronounce it; and thence to Borrego Springs, which was like a lesson in geography writ large upon the landscape: up into the mountains, into the rainclouds, lamenting; and down the other side into clear skies and sunshine, rejoicing.
Which rejoicing lasted until we actually found ourselves - eventually, after looping-the-loop a little, 'cos we couldn't quite believe that that was it - in Borrego Springs, where we discovered the worst taqueria in California, at the very first attempt yet. Weirdly, Jilberto's has some good reviews on the internets, but truly: the food was tasteless almost to the point of being inedible. Utter absence of any spice at all, and that in a chile verde. Bad, bad, bad.
So we shook the dust of Borrego Springs from our feet and zoomed onward to Palm Springs, stopping en route to take pix and look at views and wave at state troopers (he waved first, so we figured it was okay) and gaze upon the Salton Sea, which is a bit of a weird thing.
Having arrived in Palm Springs, we checked into de luxe rooms (for lack of any other: compulsory indulgence, oh noes!) in a wonderfully chi-chi hotel where the population is significantly gay and the cute guy on the desk asked us in the discreetest way possible - did we want two queen beds, or a king? - whether we were a threesome. And gave us a discount when we asked for two rooms instead.
And since then there has been champagne and croquet on the lawn, for lo, it is
frumpo's birthday, and he is [incredibly young]; and we have sat upon the lounger by the pool and watched the stars awhile in this amazingly clean desert air, and now we are going to wander down into Palm Springs and see what there might be to eat and drink and such.*Actually they're Rockports.