My captivated eyes were slowly moving
across the pages in the second chapter of ‘The Pilgrimage’ on my Kindle
Paperwhite while on I-10 the Greyhound bus, along with us, was advancing
towards Palm Springs in California. We had left the bus station in L.A. almost
two hours ago. In ‘Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port’, the second chapter of this magical
travelogue, the ace storyteller Paulo Coelho was walking across the Spanish
Pyrenees. He was on his life-changing spiritual journey to Santiago de
Compostela. Here, in the bus, my wife had rested her head on my right shoulder
as she was sleeping. Whether it’s a train, a bus, a taxi or a flight I have
lost the window seat permanently to her after our marriage.
My wife tossed and adjusted her head
again on my shoulder. Breaking the flow of the tale I looked outside the window
– On both the sides of the freeway hundreds of wind mills were welcoming us by
waving their long white hands. I wish I could stop the bus, look at the tall
white giants for some time and feel the grandeur of this San Gorgonio Pass Wind
Farm. This was a scene wherein the nature and a man-made creation were not in
confrontation with each other! My mind, which usually engages itself with
numerous thoughts, was completely at rest while watching this serene view.
Slowly my eyelids felt heavier and I dozed off.
Suddenly I woke up to the loud call,
“Passengers! We’ve reached Palm Springs.” The driver repeated the announcement
of arrival to ensure that he was audible to all the passengers in the bus.
Despite feeling sleepy I raised my eyes wide open and to her dismay jolted my wife
out of her slumber. Grabbing our backpacks quickly we got down to a tiny Amtrak
train station. Out of bewilderment I looked around – No human habitation was
visible; the barren desert was occupied by the wind mills only!
Maybe this is not our destination, I thought.
Passengers, who had disembarked, were
waiting for their baggage. Getting in the bus hurriedly I asked the driver, “Is
this Palm Springs?”
“Yes.”
“Then… where is the city?!”
“This bus won’t enter the city. This
is the nearest stop.”
Without saying anything further,
after this disheartening confirmation, I got down and just looked at my wife
wearily. I could read many questions on her face – Which place is it? How far is Palm Springs from here? How will we reach
there? But these questions remained unexpressed. She knew that I didn’t
have the answers.
A car came to pick an old lady and
two youngsters who got down at this unstaffed train station along with us.
Lucky are they!
My travel plan is an utter failure even after so much deliberation! Now
how can we leave this lonely place before nightfall and find an accommodation? – Thinking so I felt completely
drained of my excitement for the trip.
My wife, who was standing silently
all this while, noticed that a family of four was trying to find something in
the pamphlets stuck on the bulletin board and asked me to check if the phone
number of a taxi is available there.
I wasn’t hopeful, so I shook my head
in denial and didn’t move.
She decided to go and check on her
own. She came back with a smiling face and a telephone number. I too smiled and
heaved a sigh of relief while dialing that phone number. The taxi driver said
that it would take around 25 minutes for him to reach to our rescue.
It was around 5 o’clock in the evening and the
winter sun had already set behind Mount San Jacinto. The dim radiance of the
dusk was receding from the San Gorgonio Pass. Ten minutes ago the family near
the bulletin board had left in a taxi; so also the security personnel five
minutes after them.
 |
| Platform of Amtrak Train Station in Palm Springs, CA |
Only
we two were present at the unstaffed train station situated in the middle of
the vast desert. There was complete silence, even the whooshing of the few cars
travelling on the I-10 didn’t reach us. Slowly the wind started blowing with
the usual chill of a January evening. But it was not strong enough to move the
blades of all the wind mills. Putting my hands in the front pockets of my jeans
I walked to the parking lot.
In
front of me, behind the tall wind mills and the bushes scattered across the
white sands, was there the huge Mount San Jacinto spreading almost across the
western horizon with its snowclad peaks touching the dark blue sky. It felt as
if the mountain was sending the cold wind down to the valley.
 |
| Mount San Jacinto & San Gorgonio Pass Wind Farm |
Spontaneously I felt a mystical
closeness with this mountain. My heart was in sync with the vibration of this
Grand Design!
I wish this moment lasted for eternity!
Yes, there are no accidents in the
Universe! I was destined to witness this fascinating moment. Such surprises
make a journey memorable.
Few hundred meters away at the turn in the Palm
Springs Station Rd. a yellow cab appeared and veered towards us. We picked our
baggage, said a heartfelt ‘Thank you’ to the driver and got inside the warm
cozy vehicle.
 |
| Downtown Palm Springs, CA |
We were heading towards the hotel via
East Vista Chino, the road adjacent to the Palm Springs International Airport.
As a curious traveller I was looking at both the sides through the windows.
California Palm trees, also called Desert Fan Palm, were planted on the edges
of North Palm Canyon Dr. at equal distances. This desert city had showcased
many tall things so far – tall wind mills, tall mountains and tall palm trees!
Yet I was completely awestruck to see the 26-foot-tall Marilyn Monroe at the
intersection of Palm Canyon Dr. and Tahquitz Canyon Way.
 |
| 'Forever Marilyn' in Palm Springs, CA |
The
next day we visited her again. Its sheer size represents her larger-than-life
persona! This giant statue, designed by Seward Johnson and aptly named as
Forever Marilyn, is a striking tribute to her iconic subway grate scene in the
1955 film ‘The Seven Year Itch’.
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