WEEKEND GETAWAYS | SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA
In Ojai, tickled pink & green
A rosy sunset and the Emerald Iguana Inn make for a colorful getaway. Parents on parole from their kids find a town tinged with relaxation.
Ojai, Calif.
My husband had just turned 50, and in the 10 years Mitchell and I had been parents, we had yet to travel without our sons, even for a night. So when dear friends agreed to take our two boys, they didn't have to offer twice.
Ojai was our destination, partly because we hoped to spend as little time as possible in the car and partly because it's just the place for harried city people seeking serenity and silence.
The city, at the foot of the Topa Topa Mountains, might be at its best after the busy summer season. The days are mild and the nights cool. As we neared the city along California 33 in November, early snow shimmered on distant peaks.
Less than two hours after we left our L.A. house, we arrived on a Friday at the thoroughly charming Emerald Iguana Inn, snuggled among oak, sycamore and pepper trees on a dead-end street a few blocks from Ojai's business district.
The 2-year-old Emerald Iguana is the sister (do iguanas have sisters?) to the Blue Iguana Inn, a few miles west. Both are home to large tiled sculptures of iguanas (you can imagine the colors) perched in fountains like benevolent fairy tale kings. Architect Marc Whitman, who owns the inns with his wife, Julia, was inspired by the work of Spanish architect Antoni Gaudí in Barcelona's Parc Güell.
The Whitmans have nine cottages at the Emerald Iguana, all built from scratch except the largest, a stone building put up around 1906. With its kitchen, porch and whirlpool-equipped bathroom, it is substantially bigger than some apartments I've rented. Like several of the cottages, it can be combined with adjoining suites, creating a space with up to three bedrooms. The rooms are furnished with pieces Julia Whitman bought on a trip to Bali and other parts of Indonesia; artisans were hired to make headboards and other furnishings to match the imports.
Our room, $165 a night plus tax, was called Feather. (Julia Whitman said room numbers just did not feel right.) It was spacious yet cozy, with a private patio and vines draping the exterior. The woman who checked us in said she had spent her honeymoon there.
Thoughtful touches include bathrobes, a notebook of restaurant menus and a list of hiking and biking trails. The staff can arrange in-room massages. There's no charge for local calls, and even the home number of the owner is provided.
In the pink
We found ourselves wandering through town by sunset, known as the "pink moment" here. The moment — a few minutes, really — is remarkably pink as the sun dips behind the mountains that crowd the city.
Once the moment turned dusky gray, we stepped into Bart's Books, where we could have spent all day. The outdoor bookstore is made up of an old house and connected stalls holding tens of thousands of books, from Danielle Steele paperbacks to first editions costing hundreds of dollars. In the courtyard sit tables and chairs and a California live oak, 250 or so years old, surrounded by benches. My husband found a long-sought gift for a friend; I got a half-price mystery.
Our two-mile trip to dinner was the only time all weekend we needed our car. We chose Boccali's because we had been told that dishes were made using ingredients grown on the adjacent farm, which also sells pumpkins in the fall and trees at Christmastime. Produce was for sale outside, with an honor-system tin for payment.
DeWayne and Marilyn Boccali's restaurant is classic Italian American, with red-checked tablecloths and curtains. We shared a dish of farfalle with homegrown tomatoes, garlic, basil and onions. It was simple food, well made, as was our pizza with olives and fresh artichokes. Local wine was the perfect accompaniment.
On weekends at the Emerald Iguana, a breakfast buffet (included in the nightly rate) is set out by the tiny swimming pool decadently late: 9 to 11 a.m. On Saturday we took hard-boiled eggs, muffins, bagels, yogurt, fruit, coffee and tea to our private terrace 50 or so steps away. Breakfast was the source of my only complaint: no milk for the coffee, only those little packaged containers of half and half.
Keeping to our snail-like pace, we spent the morning poking around downtown. Appealing shops sell clothes, gifts and the work of local artists. We were grateful for the arcade overhead because rain had arrived, as if we needed another incentive to slow down.
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