Palm Springs was calling. We had never been and the idea of settling in to a few days at Sparrow’s Lodge appealed. The weather was in the mid-80’s, abundant sunshine prevailed, and we were anxious to pull our bikes off the cricket and take a tour through the mid-century modern architecture that this town is renowned for.
I had discovered Sparrow’s Lodge through an internet search of offbeat, quirky places to stay in Palm Springs. The hotel scene is hip and happening here, but as usual, I wanted to find a place with some low-key vibe. I wasn’t craving a ‘scene”, just a chill but unique stay. The lodge is identified from the road by a simple sign, two sparrows perched on a branch. I liked it. Even better, we were able to park our little rig out back on a residential street. Upon arrival, there is no check in desk. Just a cool little room with a huge book of Annie Leibowitz photographs on an easel, a fireplace and a few comfy chairs. The guest rooms were all off a central courtyard where a simply designed pool and hot tub beckoned. An original barn structure was transformed into an open air bar and gathering space. In the back of the property was a fire pit surrounded by Adirondack’s with warm blankets thoughtfully placed on each chair. This was to be S’mores Central every evening. Behind this area, was a large dining table under a grape arbor. Here is where Saturday Night Dinner would occur. This event is what sold me on the place. Every Saturday night, Sparrow’s Lodge offers a three course community meal, featuring steak as the main. The rooms are rustic in keeping with the history and the old buildings. Concrete floors, dim lighting, open showers with pebble flooring and even a horse trough repurposed as a soaking tub set the tone for each room. We had a little patio out back where I could write in the early mornings. 
The intimate design of the lodge encourages meeting and conversing with other guests around the pool, the fire, and in the hot tub. We spent our days wandering the town on our bikes, exploring the cool gardens and architecture. One evening we ate at a place called King’s Highway in the Ace Hotel. It was a setting out of Pulp Fiction, down to the beige faux leather booths and the long diner counter with formica counter and squat stools in a neat row. I kept looking over my shoulder expecting John Travolta and Samuel L Jackson to walk in the door with their pistols drawn. The Saturday night meal felt like the film Big Night.
There were about 20 of us under the twinkling lights of the arbor and we met some interesting folks, sisters from New York, newlyweds from San Francisco, parents-to be from Seattle, a gallery owner from Chicago. We hit it off with a couple from Sydney Australia, who were currently working in San Francisco but were moving back to their homeland in a month. That night was one of those magical evenings where time stretches out and conversation flows effortlessly. About ten of us continued the party in the hot tub, then the outdoor bar, until our noise-making was encouraged to end for the sake of other smarter, sleeping guests. The next day was one of the few on this trip where my head was a little foggy and laying prone by the pool seemed the best and only option. Somehow we rallied that evening to go out to dinner to an old iconic Palm Springs restaurant, The Tropicana with our new friends Abby & Phil from Australia. I was reluctant to leave the confines of the Sparrow’s private little setting but we had some miles to cover.
Our next destination was Flagstaff, a base for a side trip to the Grand Canyon. We had a week before we checked in to our airbnb in Santa Fe to spend Thanksgiving with our boys. Time is speeding up now. I have been totally immersed in the daily to the point where I am unaware of the date or the day of the week. To think we have three weeks left of our trip is both exciting and a little anxiety-producing. I am of two minds. I am looking forward to the comforts of home and connecting with my friendships again. But I also am wary of routine and the ennui and complacency that can induce in me. I am looking forward to processing the impact of the last three months and discerning what is next.
We pulled into Flagstaff late in the evening and checked into an airbnb in the downtown area. We wanted to be up early in the morning to make the hour and a half drive up to the Canyon. It was a glorious day and we encountered few cars on the road. I realize many have made the trip to what might be the most popular tourist destination in America and countless photographers have attempted to capture its beauty and impact on the psyche. I was impressed by the the infrastructure created since the last time we were here (over 10 years ago) to handle the crowds. Shuttles efficiently carry people to and fro, large laminate info boards direct sightseers to the appropriate hike for them according to interest and ability, itineraries for half, one and three day visits are suggested. I suppose organization and traffic management are key in the height of the summer months.
Once away from the the Visitor Center, the atmosphere changes. The low decibel sounds of nature emerge and one can hear the wind whispering through the trees, the caw of ravens floating overhead in the upstreams from the canyon, and the twitter of ground squirrels in the brush. We chose to hike the canyon rim since we just had the day.(And let’s be honest, many of the hikes here are challenging in that they traverse sheer cliff faces, not for me and my phobia!)I loved the way the light played on the colors of the canyon and the way the viewpoint changed one’s perspective at every turn, affording thrilling new panoramas.
I was also taken with some of the old structures hanging on the edges of the cliff and on the grounds, repurposed into art galleries and gift shops. It’s worth noting that many of them were designed by a female architect, Mary Colter, renowned in her time as a pioneer and visionary. The magnificent Lookout Studio and Hopi House are just two of the more than 21 structures she created.
After a full day soaking in the grandeur of the Grand Canyon, we headed back to Flagstaff. A word about this cool city of 75,000. There is a lot going on here, it reminded me of Bend, though with an edge to it. We had two of the best meals we have had on our trip here. One was at Criollo Latin Kitchen, a succulent skirt steak had me swooning, and another was a small space called Tinderbox Kitchen where the craft cocktails were amazingly creative and the meal, a simple roasted chicken, was phenomenal. The food, beer, and cocktail scene here is off the charts. We were here on a Sunday and Monday and the downtown streets were jamming with music, laughter and crowds spilling out of doorways. The outdoor life is celebrated year round with a strong biking culture and a ski hill right up the road. With the Grand Canyon so close and the beautiful red rocks of Sedona and some of the country’s best hiking only a half hour away, Flagstaff makes a pretty sweet place to rest your head for a few nights.
The marked contrast between what I would label two laid back towns was stark. While Palm Springs was refined, urbane and hip, Flagstaff was its wild and loose cousin. When we biked among the mid century neighborhoods in Palm Springs, we didn’t see a single soul. We later heard that many of the gorgeous places were second homes, sitting silent, perpetually waiting for their owners to return.(To be fair, the population doubles in the winter which would bring a busier feel to the town.) In Flagstaff, the energy was palpable. Bikers sped by you at sunrise, wrapped in sweaters and scarves. Vehicles were laden with racks carrying snow toys. Like Bend, the youthful energy lent an air of excitement and possibility to the town. Whereas, Palm Springs seem like a place to wile away your waning years. Or nurse a hangover by an exquisite pool all day.
It might seem unfair to compare the two, as one is a college town and the other is a playground for the wealthy and famous. I found something to love in both places. Yet when I ask myself the question, could I live here (as I have done in every place we have visited), the answer points to Flagstaff. This helps me understand where my values and interests are leading me as I age. That is one thing I did not expect from this trip. By experiencing so many different places, I am honing in on what is integral to my physical and mental health. Culture, diversity, access and proximity to outdoor activities, a vibrant local scene, a strong arts community, lots of good ethnic restaurants, a youthful population. I’m making a list of my favorites, just in case the day comes we ever decide to leave our hometown. Just like the road, you never know where life will take you.