We landed in LA and promptly got the hell out. The freeways were melting, people were dying from the heat and we had no intention of hanging around for longer than we needed. Our destination was Palm Springs (and beyond), a steady jaunt that would lead us, eventually, to Chicago and a flight home.
We have lots planned for the next 4 weeks, both highbrow and lowbrow but our first mission was to get to Palm Springs and dive into a cold pool.
127 degrees, hotter than Death Valley and an outside temp of hellish proportions, It was literally like being in a fan oven, the dry heat roasting your larynx with every breath. The only thing for it was either to go to a bar and watch England be rubbish at football or take the cable car up to the top of one of the looming mountains that seems to dominate every view in this town.
We did both, the former proving a worse decision than the latter. PS was a mystery to me, I knew it was a holiday destination and home to some of Hollywood's elite but I wasn't quite prepared for the breathtaking 1950s architecture (inc Elvis's honeymoon retreat and my dads favourite drummer, Buddy Rich's house) or amazing scenery away from the valley floor via the rotating aerial tramway.