Poolside at Villa Royale.
Inside the courtyard of Villa Royale, it could be 1965. Or at least how I think 1965 looked and felt, with bossa nova sounds drifting over the swimming pool, the loungers slung with black-and-white striped towels while palm trees sway above. Spanish mission-style tiles line the roofs on single-story buildings, whose big French doors can open to let the breeze inside. Thanks to the masonry wall that surrounds the hotel property, buoyed by a barrier of ficus trees, it’s hard to tell that there’s anything but desert out there.
There is, of course, plenty more than barren desert out there. This is Palm
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