January 2009 Archives

Is it just me, or does your nervous system have a 48-hour kill-switch when you're staying on the fabulous Las Vegas Strip? The masses of lumpen humanity, big-voltage billboards, the constant din -- isn't the desert supposed to be a respite from these urban maladies? Cut to the J.W. Marriott Resort & Spa and you've got yourself actual peace and quietude to go along with the spinning strawberries and the clacking of the roulette wheel. Yes, Martha, they do have a casino that will be as happy as the glitzy others to take your hard-earned.

The J.W. is in nearby Summerlin (Howard Hughes's mother's maiden name, fyi), just a fifteen-minute drive from the nutso vibe and congested traffic of Las Vegas Blvd. For my money, this is the only place to stay for the golf-oriented traveler -- the hotel's Executive Golf Desk can get you priority times at the TPC Las Vegas just down the road, and the plush layouts at Paiute are just down the highway another twenty minutes or so. Hiking and biking trails are nearby in stunning Red Rock Canyon; and they'll even shuttle you to the Strip when you feel the need to join the rabble -- nice not to make that twenty-minute walk from self-parking to the casino.

But why leave at all? There are more than half a dozen eateries on property, from excellent fish and chips at the J.C. Wooloughan Irish Pub to teppanyaki dining or sushi at Shizen. A buffet is de rigueur and always popular, and a 24-hour a day café sits casino-side for those who find it difficult to stay away from the action. My advice: bet it all on double-zero at midnight, always works for me. Not.

Win or lose, hit the 40,000 square foot Aquae Sulis Spa afterwards and let their most capable therapists erase the muscle memory of those shanked shots you made on the golf course earlier in the day. The fitness center is top-drawer and the service attentive without being obsequious. Option two: hang out in your room, where the marble bathrooms feature whirlpool bathtubs and are built so solid and old-school, you never hear a peep from another patron. Hang the Strip and call the J-Dub home!

Some of the stodgier spots in Santa Barbara make you feel like an intruder if you're wearing the wrong shoes, sport facial hair (ahem) or speak louder than a whisper. No need to name names. Contrarily, the Hotel Oceana, just across Cabrillo Blvd. from the Pacific Pond, has that Cheers-like familiarity to it, the staff greeting you like you were a long-lost millionaire uncle. Tea, coffee and fresh fruit next to a roaring lobby fire complete the picture. And the continental breakfast even has an omelette station on weekends -- nice touch, that.

But it's when you get to your room that you truly feel like you might be at home --or at least in somebody's very tastefully appointed digs! Hardwood floors, colorful rugs and whimsical pastel accents invite you in, the big thread-count Egyptian sheets finish the weary traveler off in style. A recent renovation means everything is newly minted, from the flatscreen tv's to the two cabana-lined pools. Spa services are delivered to your room, everything from Reiki to Reflexology, haircuts to Hatha Yoga. This is Santa Barbara, after all.

There are always some quite reasonable packages available, including an upcoming Valentine's Day special for you and your significant otra. The Oceana also works with Cloud Climbers Jeep Tours to whisk you away for a day-long tour of the surrounding wine country. They drive, you drink -- works for me. I highly recommend this happy hideaway -- dock your iPod, swing open the sliding door and breathe that seaside air and take in the capacious view. Beaucoup Euro-tourists swear by this spot, always a good sign. Willkommen!