An oasis

The air condition is running here in our motel room in Indio, California, even at eleven o'clock at night. The sound is not so different of that the furnace makes at home ...  

That, however, is where the similarity ends, as the sign on the photo above shows very clearly. I found it at a rest stop along the I-10 which we took on our way west from Phoenix today, shortly before we crossed into California. These rest stops are usually very well kept, with picnic shelters providing much-needed shade and clean bathrooms. 

We left Phoenix around noon, after picking up our rental car (a Chevy Cruze) at the Enterprise location where we got our car last year as well. Then, not knowing about Enterprise's 'free pickup' offer, we had walked what seemed to be an endlessly long way from the hostel to the car rental location. Today, on the way back to the hostel, we kept track of the distance: eight kilometres - not a pure delight on pavement and in the mounting heat of midday, but at least it was training for the Grand Canyon hike that followed only a few days later. 

Today, on the other hand, we walked very little. Our objective was to get close to Joshua Tree National Park which we plan to visit either tomorrow or the day after, depending on what we find to do in this lush, green valley famous for its dates. 

Indio is a sprawling place that, according to the information I found, has grown enormously over the last fifteen years, mostly due to the growing popularity of this area for recreational purposes. After driving through the barren landscape west of Phoenix for hours it is almost a shock to see the green fields and lawns, the many palms and flower beds here, and I can't help but feel a little guilty for enjoying the lushness because I know how much water it takes to keep it that way. 

We had a bit of trouble finding a motel, quite surprising in a city of more than 75,000. We kept going south through one gated community after the next, crossing wide, beautiful avenues, and had eventually reached the outskirts of town. No motel in sight. We stopped at a store with local produce - tomatoes, cucumbers, avocadoes, raisins, grapefruit, among other things - and asked a middle-aged man in the parking lot about a motel. At first he seemed almost reluctant to answer, but when he started talking it became clear that it was just the language that made it a bit difficult for him to express himself. Spanish words kept creeping in where the English words were missing: like a large part of the population (68%, according to Wikipedia) of Indio he, too, was of Hispanic origin. Not all of the Spanish speaking population is from Mexico, however; a considerable percentage is from countries like El Salvador, Honduras, Guatemala, Nicaragua, Ecuador and Colombia. Originally the traqueros - railway workers - arrived in the first decade of the 20th century, employed by Southern Pacific, and now the need for workers in construction, golf courses, agriculture and domestic jobs brings many Mexicans to the Palm Springs area of which Indio is a part. 
It was nice to hear the familiar sounds from our travels in South America, and indeed the man's advice brought us to tonight's resting place.

We hope to learn something about growing dates tomorrow morning. What will follow next is not quite clear; we are still thinking about visiting Salton Sea, supposed to be an amazing place to watch birds. Quite possible we could pitch our tent in one of the Joshua Tree campgrounds. Since the elevation is higher it should not be quite as hot: when we descended into this valley around 5:30 tonight the car thermometer showed 92 F -  33 Celsius. I am glad our car has air condition ...