Nov. 9th, 2009

notyourmonkey: (Default)
(Actually, I have a lot of words. But the words are interspersed with a lot of nonverbal hand flailing.)

(Also, I just deleted a few hundred words of detailed recap of my last twenty-four hours. I promise you're not missing anything. My frozen chocolate muffin at three am was just not that exciting.)

To sum up: no travel hitches, landed an hour early in the driving rain, drove along the coast for an hour until the sun broke through, and now we are in the most ridiculous hotel I have ever stayed in, much less for work.

I HAVE A BEACHFRONT SUITE. SUITE. ON THE BEACH. LIKE, WALK OUT THE PATIO FROM MY SITTING ROOM THROUGH MY OWN TENT THINGY, DOWN FOUR STEPS, AND WHAMMO! BEACH. BEACH. RIGHT THERE.

This is what happens when you check in at ass o'clock in the morning - you get the first pick of rooms. AND THEY ARE NICE. I've got a single with soothing watercolors, a marble floor, and a purple faux suede couch. I have a shower and a jacuzzi and a bidet and a heated towel rack and A BEACH. When I got back from breakfast, there was a fruit plate and fresh flowers on the desk, as well as two different French newspapers.

I booked some stuff at the on-site spa for the afternoon - not entirely sure what, due to some dodgy translation issues, but it is mindbogglingly cheap and mindbogglingly awesome. The closest thing I can liken it to is the Canyon Ranch spa at the Venetian in Vegas, but I can get an hour's worth of massage for $30-40, instead of, well, adding a zero to that. They have EXPERIENCE SHOWERS. (or douches des experiences, if you prefer.) I'M NOT ENTIRELY SURE WHAT THOSE ARE, BUT I'M SURE I'LL TRY THEM OUT.

There's an infinity pool (cold) and a hot tub (also cold) and a massage tub (really cold), but I just ran out to the ocean (wait for it...also cold) for a little bit. BECAUSE IT'S RIGHT THERE. There was a guy surfing off to my left, and there was a shack with military guards off to my right, and this whole place is a little surreal, but I plan on thoroughly enjoying it. Pictures to follow, I'm sure.

(Speaking of surreal, my traveling companions have a hugemongous double with. um. a Hitchcock theme? Seriously. There's a series of prints of his face in a pop-arty sort of style, and two different giant oil paintings of him, and then in the bedroom there's a series of paintings of CREEPY BIRDS. I think there's such a thing as taking a theme too far. I also think I totally lucked out with my abstract watercolors. AND BEACH.)

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