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Why the griffin? Who knows--but I like it! |
How do you feel about Marriott hotels? I kind of like them. And Steve has held many, many meetings at
Marriotts. Which means lots of Marriott
points. Which means free stays at
Marriott. Which means lots more stays at
Marriotts. And that’s a good thing; they’re
nice! And a few weeks ago, we stayed for
the first time at their fancy dancy brand, “JW Marriott.” And boy, that was a REALLY good thing!
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Fred & Lynette on their wedding day |
We were going down to Tucson to have a lunch celebrating
Steve’s sister Cindy’s birthday—which actually was over a month ago, but I’m
positive you don’t want to hear the details of that explanation—and decided that
while we were there we’d just be wild and have dinner with our friends Fred and
Lynette, too, and, oh boy, stay the night.
(As you may recall, I LOVE staying in hotels. One of my hobbies, you might say.) So I checked around and discovered “we” (read,
Steve) had earned enough points for a room. I was planning on booking us at the Marriott
University Park (located right at the University
of Arizona, see how they did that—University
Park?), where we have very happily stayed many times. (After all, Steve went to the UofA for eight
years, I think it is as he tells it, to earn his undergraduate degree, and
still considers himself a Wildcat. I
guess we should be grateful he isn’t
actually
still a Wildcat. That just a short eight
years did it for him.)
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Abbott and Costello |
The last time we stayed at the Marriott University
Park we had the nicest exchange with a gentleman named Michael who played host
at breakfast. He had such an interesting
way about him—hearty and friendly and interested and just a je ne sais quoi
aura about him (hey, that’s French for I don’t know what. I mean I do know what it means; it means I
don’t know what. Wait! I think I'm hearing... Hey, Abbott!) And he talked
very knowledgeably about UofA football. Which
was enough for Steve to bond with him immediately. We even ended up asking him all about things
in addition to college football and had a great lengthy chat while we ate our
breakfast. He turned out to be as
interesting as he first appeared (even to me, who is fine with college
football, but frankly, I don’t want to eat an entire breakfast over that topic
alone). He was charming and gracious and
fascinating. A true ambassador of
hospitality. We now, when trying to jog
each other’s mind about which Marriott we’re referring to, use him as the
defining point: “You know, the one with
that guy who was called to the Middle East by the
military to teach them how to be gracious and curry favor.” Of course!
The Marriot University Park! (See?
I told you he had more to
offer than UofA football. Not that
there’s anything wrong with UofA football, I hasten to add before Steve
divorces me.)
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GO CATS! |
But despite that fabulous experience, this time I happened
to notice that, for the same number of points, we could choose to stay at the
new-ish JW Marriott Starr Pass. And I
snatched that chance without a second thought! (Yes, sad but true, fancy trumped really nice
guy, this time around.) See, most of Tucson
and all of its resorts (virtually all of which I’ve had the pleasure to stay
at—and enjoy) are on the east side of the 10 freeway. It’s not that it’s a freeway-ish town; it
just so happens that when you drive down there from, say, Phoenix, you get off
the 10 and head east on any one of a dozen or more exits, and there you are, in
Tucson. The 10 is really the western
border of most of Tucson.
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Glenn Ford - W O W!! |
Well, what’s west of the 10, you ask? Ha! West
of the 10 is desert and mountains. Really
beautiful desert and mountains. As in,
The West. In fact, it’s so nice and
desert-y and Glenn-Ford-in-a-cowboy-movie-like that it’s the location of many
dude ranches. (Wait, I think we’re
supposed to call them Guest Ranches now.
Who would have thought that even “Dude Ranch” would become politically
incorrect? Pardon me while I’m sick.) So guess where the JW Marriott Starr Pass
is? Exactly! West of the 10. And that means, if you’ve been following
closely, that it’s in the desert and mountains.
Not very far from the freeway and the rest of Tucson,
but nestled into mountains and desert and about a million saguaros,
nonetheless. Feeling like a million
miles away. And that, truly, is
neat.
So we booked our room and headed down. We had just a fabulous lunch with Cindy and
her partner Imarra at this neat little restaurant called Delectables, in the
area of Tucson called Fourth
Avenue. (And guess what, it’s on Fourth
Avenue.
They’re really good at naming things down there in the Old Pueblo.) And we had a really fun dinner with Fred and
Lynette, too—this time at a Vietnamese restaurant whose name I don’t think I
ever learned, darn it. Very fun, with
great food and lots of colors everywhere, and a sort of general charming
chaos. I’d recommend it, if only I knew
the name.
And in between lunch and dinner, we headed west! To the Starr
Pass (OK, I’m going to stop calling
it the JW Marriott Starr Pass at this point.
Too long to keep typing, annoying to keep reading, I imagine. Starr
Pass will do it, agreed? This isn’t an advertisement for Marriott,
after all. I swear!) Even as we crossed under the
10 to the mysterious West Side of the Freeway (this
reminds me of the A.A. Milne
poem about, “You must never go down to the end of
town without consulting me”--but back to my point…) things were looking
good. Just heading in that direction is
awfully pretty.
And as the road wound around and around, we were really
enjoying the scenery. Really felt like
we were out in the desert (despite the housing developments arising all around
us, that is). We finally turned around
the last bend, and there it was. The Starr
Pass. Standing tall amid the saguaros. Nicely nestled on the side of the foothills,
even blending into the desertscape—as much as a giant, six-story,
600+-room resort can blend in to the
scenery, that is. But from the moment we
saw it, life was good.
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The Starr Pass |
Truly, virtually every aspect of being there was just
great.
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Discussing the parking situation. |
The only down side to the whole thing was our very first
experience. We decided to park
ourselves. (Make that, we parked
ourselves when Steve misinterpreted my, “There’s a sign that says ‘Guest
Self-Parking’” to mean, “Stop! Turn
here! Park!”) Which was a bit of a bummer, as it turns out,
because the resort is kind of long and stretched out, and this parking garage
is on the complete opposite end as the lobby.
Strange, but true. We thought we
were having a golden moment when we found a spot right by the elevator and
then, doubly golden, as we approached the elevator a man going the opposite
direction said, “Just arriving? Enjoy
yourselves!” with a little grin. Which
we happily mistook as a lovely and friendly greeting, not realizing till later
that he was most likely being facetious and secretly snickering at what lay
ahead for us.
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Which way, please? |
And what lay ahead was a
trek of oh, I’d say roughly two and a half miles--through lovely corridors,
I’ll grant you that--to the lobby. Along
the way we only had to ask one cowboy and two Indians for directions. We even passed an outer corridor with a view
of the pool, outdoor lounge, and small mountain to one side, and a larger but
still small mountain on the other side covered with saguaros. Covered!
And we learned something, too.
Did you know that, despite all those wheels, suitcases get REALLY HEAVY
when dragged long distances? Now we all
know. Just a little travel tip for you.
When we reached the lobby, however, all was forgiven. It’s just lovely! Sort of Mexican/Indian classy, earthy, yet elegant
décor. Somehow they’ve managed to combine
heavy wood furniture and leather appointments with that sleek, clean modern
look. To very nice effect. Just lovely, I tell you. There are stone walls and sleek tile
floors. There are rustic but beautiful wrought
iron candelabra chandeliers. (Although
all I could think of was, DO NOT STAND HERE GAWKING UP AT THIS GORGEOUS BUT
GIANT, HEAVY CHANDELIER IF YOU WANT TO LIVE.
Just in case.) The carpets have a pattern of Indian rugs in
them. The ceilings not only have vigas,
but latillas, as well, if you can imagine.
Of course you can’t—only a few people living in Arizona,
or possibly Mexico,
even know what that means. Luckily, I am one of them. Vigas
are those rustic wooden beams you see in the ceiling; latillas are lots of
little sticks laid right next to each other that cover the ceiling
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Cool chandelier. See the vigas and latillas? |
between the
beams. (And now you’ve learned even more
than just something about your wheeled suitcase.) There’s a huge, and I mean two-story huge,
picture window overlooking a small mountain (containing a golf course, if you
can believe that), the pool, and tons of saguaros. So as you can imagine (and yes, this I think
you really can imagine) we forgave them the long trek from the car.
Until we were sent to our room. Which was three-fourths of the way back to
the car. Avec suitcases. (Why did we each have a heavy suitcase when
we where there for only one night?
There’s just no reasonable answer for that. I will tell you I suggested we use one
suitcase, but that idea was rejected immediately. So.
That’s all I’ll say about that.)
But the bright side of that, and I always try to look on the bright
side, especially when Steve is doing the really heavy hauling, was that our
trip to the car would be pretty short now.
See? Always a bright side.
But let me hasten to add that check-in was quite a nice
experience. Our agent, who was very
classy, dressed in a snazzy jacket and looking very handsome (not a
requirement, certainly—but so nice, don’t you think?), was friendly and
professional all at the same time. He
handed us our keys, then went into the back on a secret mission and came back and
presented us with a gift bag (containing water—which we’d need for the journey
to our room, no doubt—and iced tea).
Boy, once you get to that frequent traveler level, the perks just keep
on coming. A gift for us for accepting a
free room! He wished us a nice stay as
we left. And it was sincere! I could just tell.
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Photo courtesty of TripAdvisor |
Our room, when we arrived a half hour later, was worth the
trip, as well. Not over the top, but so
nice and lovely with dark furniture and a breathtaking view of the pool,
(small) mountain, and golf course. The bathroom was fabulous—lots of granite and mirrors and a separate tub. And fluffy towels. Aaah.
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F & L again! |
We didn’t get to have dinner there, since (have you been
following?) we had dinner with Fred and Lynette. (Remember?
Nameless Vietnamese place?) Next
time, I’m sure we will have dinner there, if only because the patio setting at
Primo looks so inviting. I’m sure the
food is pretty fine, as well.
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Signature Grill So pretty! |
We did have breakfast in the Signature Grill the next
morning. Our first meal with only each
other for company. So we brought our
books. (Not that we don’t love each
other’s company; we both just love to read and that’s not something one can
really do when one is
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Reading at breakfast |
socializing with others.
We’ve found others usually frown on it and come to the conclusion that you
are not great company. So, often at
breakfast, we read until I keep interrupting Steve to tell him something funny
I just read, or point out something I just saw fly by the window, or ask him
about those eggs he ordered or maybe his book….
So actually we begin by reading, but by the end of the meal, books have
closed. My apologies to my very patient
husband.)
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How cute is that? |
And the Signature Grill was grand! The room is quite pretty, with more stone walls, windows all around with breathtaking views, and a smashing breakfast buffet. They served these teeny tiny little glasses filled with muesli and granola, topped with raspberries--that's not the kind of thing I usually eat in the morning, but it was so cute I had to take one; and it was just delicious! Steve told me that, earlier that morning, someone had gone through the lobby offering those little treats on a wheeled cart for anyone who was up and at 'em early. Neat!
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Keep your mitts off my bagel |
And they did this cool thing with the bagels. You know how, at a buffet, there's always the dilemma of how to get the guests to NOT grab the rolls with their grubby paws? So they always put out tongs, certain that everyone will use them. Yeah, right. Well at the Starr Pass, they've come up with a clever (but hilarious) system to make sure one's hands don't touch someone else's bagels. Bagels on a stick, with little wooden separators between each one. So sanitary!
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The sweet blue-eyed Jessica |
We were waited on by a pretty, friendly server
named Jennifer, who took care of our every whim in a very professional and
eager manner, and was very concerned when we pointed out that at the top of the
menu it mentioned “Belgium” waffles, whereas further down it referred to
them—most correctly, thank God!—as “Belgian” waffles. See, that would be like saying “France Toast”
instead of French Toast, to use a breakfast analogy. We thought it was amusing (imagine how fun we
are at parties); she thought it was something that needed correcting, and
fast. And we’d thought perhaps she would
simply roll her eyes at these two weirdos who instead of delighting over the
fabulous breakfast buffet the Grill had served up (and it was fabulous), were editing the menu. So we were impressed. (And relieved, I have to say.)
There was one little glitch in our breakfast
experience. Just a little thing. Apparently, there was a convention going on
while we were there. And it was
apparently for the Cord Blood Registry.
Which I’m sure is a fine organization, helping you save your baby’s cord
blood (yes, as in, umbilical cord) for future treatment for serious conditions that may arise. Heck, I’ll support that. But was I wrong not to want to be reminded of
that as I walked into breakfast? Was I
wrong to feel horror as the hostess escorted us past a much-larger-than-life billboard showing a giant baby’s stomach and belly-button
and the words CORD BLOOD—as we were on our way in to eat? Gross!
Call me insensitive if you will. I
say it was major icky, and I’m sticking by it.
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Breakfast, anyone? |
After breakfast, we discovered another great thing about the
Starr Pass. They have a gift shop! Hallelujah!
Did you know many hotels are giving the gift shop the old heave ho? Oh, the pain!
You can always count on hotel gift shops to have neat stuff—jewelry, stuffed animals, interesting articles of
clothing. And then there’s all the stuff
that one must have in a hotel—snacks, books, magazines, band-aids, and who
knows what all? But there’s this awful
trend these days toward eliminating the gift shop. (Who are these people who travel and don’t
need Advil? Nail polish remover? Books?
Trinkets? SNACKS??? That’s just
not the way we travel, I can tell
you that—despite our large suitcases.)
So anyway, not only does the Starr Pass have gift shops--a series of shops, all connected--but they're quite nice! They’re all pretty and large and have lots of
great stuff. Including very friendly
staff. The lady who helped me, for
example, told me lots of interesting things about when she used to work at Disneyland.
Interesting, indeed. And once again, very friendly, indeed. And not only did I find tasty snacks, I even
bought a cool Tucson t-shirt. Very successful gift shop experience all around!
When it was time to check out, we were bummed to leave. We hadn’t even been there 24 hours, yet we’d
been treated to great, friendly, and efficient service from every single staff
member from the moment we stepped off the elevator. (Which is
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Scary Indian |
actually where we were greeted by our first
member of the staff—who hurried to walk us a bit of the way toward the
lobby—probably so we didn’t get attacked by Indians. Just
kidding!
About the Indians, that is. The
gentleman really did walk us part way!
And was just lovely.)
Our whole experience was fantastic. I’d stay there again in a heartbeat. Even if we have to use dollars instead of points. My only advice is to drive to the lobby
first, before checking in. (Like, duh,
you wouldn’t do that anyway. I’m going
to have to talk this over with Steve once more—why did we park first, again?)
If you do that, it’s all sunshine and roses from there on. Wait, or is it green lights and good
things? Lollipops and rainbows? Anyway -- you’ll love it.
I dare you not to!
(What's your favorite place to stay?....)