While Sitting on the Patio

 

I'm waiting, once again.  My hosts,  C&B had to work this morning,  and we were up and out the door before 9.  Of course, my luncheon with the Dean isn't until noon, so, here I am, under an umbrella beneath the palm trees at the Royal Palm Resort having breakfasted on an egg white vegetable frittata in the company of many little black birds who were searching for crumbs.

 

The Royal Palm is an old and elegant establishment, and I'm thankful that they ordered up a soft breeze for me this morning.  

Hi, guys!  Now you are semi-famous!  You are on the internet!

The worker bees wear black vests and pants and white shirts and they sport gold nametags.... it feels like Laurel in the Pines, where my grandparents took me for Passover when I was 11. 

 

Sophisticated and refined, with a classy patina that only comes with age, everyone is smiling and helpful and I'm a happy girl, here at my mosaic topped table in the outdoor foyer.

I know, a foyer is an inside entry corridor according to the dictionary, but this is Phoenix and it's 86 and sunny in November and an indoor foyer just wouldn't make any sense at all.  I'm reminded of the Big Cuter's first day of school in California, when he was reprimanded for running in the halls.  "But, I'm outside!  This isn't a hall.  I'm outside!"  This western living takes some getting used to.

There's a convention of lanyard wearing middle aged white men and a group of older woman accompanying a bride-to-be and there are gardeners and waiters and yet it's peaceful and serene. 

I do not understand the need to play background music in the public areas - I moved from my comfy lounge chair when Steppenwolf's Born to Be Wild began blaring from the speakers surrounding the pool - but I've found a table with quieter muzak and I'm trying to ignore the distraction.  I could run Pandora on Nellie the Netbook, but I don't want to add to the noise quotient.  

There is free Wi-Fi out here on the red stones and I'm smiling at the conventioneers as they go inside for their meeting.

Phoenix feels different from Tucson in so many ways.  There's a sophistication that we miss 100 miles south.  People are uniformly more well-dressed here, and that's not only at the resorts.  The crowd at Postino last night was young and old and there wasn't a pair of sneakers or flip-flops in the house.  No one was over-dressed, but they had taken care to look groomed.  Usually, I am comforted by the lack of a dress code in Tucson; last night I was cosseted by the neatly turned out Phoenicians.

This hotel speaks to the fact that Phoenix is more of a city than is Tucson.  There's a sense of moneyed history here (the hotel was built as a private home in the early 20th century), and the blending of the old and the new is well-expressed.  Take a look at what I saw in the public areas today:

 

These light fixtures were hanging from the railing going up to the restaurant.

 

 There was a lot of tile art on the walls and on the floors.

This girl made me smile.

 This desk is in the lobby.

 The sun has moved over the top of the archway, and I've moved around my table to another chair. 

I'm having a very nice morning, waiting to be entertained and enlightened and fed.  It's been a pleasure to share it with you.