Yuma's BEST Kept Secret: OYO Desert Grove Hotel Review (You WON'T Believe This!)
Yuma's BEST Kept Secret: OYO Desert Grove Hotel Review (You WON'T Believe This!) - My Brain Dump Edition
Okay, buckle up, buttercups, because I just got back from the OYO Desert Grove Hotel in Yuma, and I NEED to unload. Forget pristine, polished reviews -- this is my brain, unfiltered. Prepare for a rollercoaster!
First Impressions & the Mystery of the Desert Bloom (or Lack Thereof):
Landing in Yuma is… well, it's Yuma. Hot, flat, and you half-expect tumbleweeds to start rolling by. The Desert Grove? Honestly, from the outside, it's a classic motel, maybe a little… tired. My first thought? "Okay, this is not the Four Seasons." But hold on! That faded sign over the entrance actually beckoned me in… and there was that little bit of something enticing about it that made me give it a shot.
Accessibility Woes & Wins! (Or, "Can a Wheelchair Actually Navigate?")
Alright, let's get serious for a sec. Accessibility is HUGE in my book, and I'm happy to report… mostly good news. The elevator? Check! (Thank goodness! My legs are not what they used to be!). The ramps were decent - nothing epic, but they got the job done. Now, the real test… the rooms! I’m not a wheelchair user myself, but I made a point of really looking for this review. The good news? They do have rooms specifically designed for accessibility. The bad news? Not a lot of details on the website. Call ahead people, you'll need to be explicit. The important thing is they claim to have them, and that's a start!
Internet: Free Wi-Fi! (Thank God. Seriously.)
Yes, YES, a thousand times YES! Free Wi-Fi in all rooms! And it's… well, it worked. Look, I'm not expecting lightning-fast speeds for critical downloads, but I could stream my shows (okay, maybe a little buffering, let's be honest) and answer emails. That, my friends, is a win. They also supposedly have LAN wired access--but come on, who does that anymore? Let's be real, if you need a hardwire you have a problem,
Food, Glorious Food (and the Occasional Culinary Disaster):
The dining situation was a mixed bag, like a buffet with a questionable attitude.
- Breakfast (Buffet): Okay, the Asian breakfast option caught my eye. I'm a sucker for noodles in the morning, you know?. But I'm fairly sure it was the same kind you get from a vending machine. The pastries were… well, they existed. The coffee was black and hot, which is all I ask.
- Restaurants: There was (or were) a few restaurants. Some of them advertised international cuisine. I’m just going to say I didn’t eat at them, and I'm not quite sure they exist in reality. The menu I saw seemed to cover everything from Chinese to pizza. I'm dubious.
- The Poolside Bar: Ah, the pool, the raison d'être. Yes, there's a pool. And yes, there's a bar! It's the kind of bar where you can get a truly terrible margarita and some surprisingly tasty nachos. Definitely a good spot for a happy hour binge, and people watching.
Relaxation & Pampering (Or, "Did I Actually See a Spa?")
- Pool with a View: The pool is pretty cool, overlooking a slightly bleak expanse of desert. It's an outdoor pool, so make sure you bring sunscreen.
- Fitness Center: I did not venture in, you know, because vacation. But, hey, they have one!
- The Spa/Sauna/Steamroom: Ah, now this is the tricky part. The website mentioned a few of these services. I think there might have been a sauna. I think. I couldn’t find it. The spa… it might have been a locked door somewhere near the back.
Cleanliness & Safety (Because Apparently, We Still Need to Talk About This):
Okay, this is IMPORTANT. The Desert Grove felt… safe. They had all the usual stuff: hand sanitizer everywhere, staff in masks, and the whole deal. I appreciated the effort. The room itself looked clean, but I'm still a little paranoid. (I can't not check under the bed.) Everything seemed disinfected.
The Room: "Home Away From… Kind Of Home?"
My room was… well, it was a room. Not fancy, but functional. Definitely not a suite.
- The Bed: Soft-ish. I slept. That's all I ask.
- The Air Conditioning: Ice cold! Essential in Yuma.
- The TV: Had channels. I didn't watch much TV.
- The Mirror: So many mirrors. Good for checking if your tan is even.
- The Bathroom: The water was hot, the shower worked. No complaints.
- The Decor: Let's just say it was… eclectic. Think "art" that looked like it came from a bargain bin and some questionable floral patterns.
Services and Conveniences (The Stuff That Makes or Breaks a Stay):
- Front Desk (24-hour): Super helpful, even when I needed more towels.
- Car Park [free of charge]: Thank goodness! Never underestimate the value of a free parking spot.
- Laundry Service: No idea, didn't use it.
- Luggage Storage: Yep, they did it.
For the Kids (Because, Kids):
I didn't travel with children. But I noticed the hotel had kids facilities. It certainly looks like a place for kids, or not. I’d say, it would be ok but not a real kid-friendly place.
Getting Around (Because You Need to Escape the Heat):
- Car Park [on-site]: Very handy.
- Airport transfer: They offer it. Maybe worth considering.
- Taxi service: Available.
The Verdict: Would I Go Back?
Look, the OYO Desert Grove Hotel is not a luxury resort. It's not going to win any design awards. But… it's clean, it's cheap, the pool is nice (and there's a bar!), and the staff is friendly. It delivered, overall. For the price, yeah. I'd definitely go back.
In short: if you're looking for a budget-friendly spot in Yuma, and you can handle a little charming imperfection, and especially if you are looking for something cheap, the Desert Grove is worth a look. It's… a hidden gem… in its own weird, slightly worn-out way. Just keep your expectations realistic, pack your own snacks, and you'll be fine.
Luxury Getaway: Crown Hotel Blockley Awaits!
Okay, buckle up buttercups, because this isn't your grandma's meticulously planned vacation itinerary. This is… well, it's more like a travel diary written by a caffeinated squirrel with a smartphone. Prepare for a glorious mess!
OYO Hotel Yuma AZ Desert Grove, Yuma, AZ - A Love Story (Maybe)
(Subject: Surviving the Desert, One Questionable Decision at a Time)
Day 1: Arrival & Initial Panic
- 1:00 PM: "Arrival." Okay, "Arrival" sounds grand. In reality, it was more like "limping in from the godforsaken airport, sweating more than a politician, and praying my suitcase hasn't spontaneously combusted in the Arizona sun." The OYO? Well, it looked like the pictures, which is always a gamble. The air conditioning, praise the heavens, worked. That's a win. Small victory.
- 1:30 PM: Room Reconnaissance. Okay, the room. Let's be honest. It's… functional. Bed? Check. Slightly suspicious-looking mini-fridge? Check. Questionable art involving what might be a desert landscape and a lot of beige? Also, check. My emotional reaction? A mix of relief (air conditioning!) and the vague feeling I might be slowly absorbing the desert's ennui.
- 2:00 PM: The Great Snack Debacle. I was starving. Naturally. So I ventured into the vending machine abyss. My choices ran from Snickers. To Doritos. To what I could only describe as "mystery meat jerky." I ended up buying a bag of stale pretzels. It’s the first indication this trip is going downhill. They are like the sand. Dry, hard, and useless.
- 2:30 PM: Pool-Side Contemplation (and Failed Sunscreen Application). The pool looked inviting. Turquoise, shimmering… and surrounded by what seemed to be more sun-baked concrete than actual shade. I attempted sunscreen. Failed. Ended up looking like a lobster with a tan line that said, "I tried, okay?" The pool itself? Cold. Surprisingly cold. My initial reaction: disappointment. My secondary reaction: a sudden, overwhelming craving for a margarita. Now I want to get a drink, but I have to go and find one. This is a disaster.
- 3:00 PM: Searching for a Bar. Did I mention I was really craving a margarita? The hotel staff was not helpful, or rather, non-existent. They are either hiding or actually, they are not in this hotel. Google Maps was my friend now.
- 4:00 PM: Finding a Bar It was the "The Drunken Cactus." I found a parking space a mile away. I walked into the bar. I ordered a drink: a Margarita.
Day 2: Desert Delights & the Dreaded Drive
- 9:00 AM: Breakfast from Hell. The included continental breakfast promised "assorted pastries and fruit." What I got was a rock-hard muffin that could double as a doorstop and what might have been a grape that had seen better days. The coffee? Brown-colored water. My emotional reaction? "This is why I travel with emergency granola bars."
- 9:30 AM: Dealing with the car. I'm going to go driving. I have to go. I drove.
- 10:00 AM: The Yuma Territorial Prison. Because what’s a trip without a little bit of morbid history, right? I wander around with my usual nonchalance. The place is creepy. The cells the size of coffins… the whole thing is making me anxious. I can almost feel the ghosts of disgruntled inmates staring at me. I took a lot of pictures of the cells.
- 11:30 PM: Lunch & Near-Death Experience. Found what looked like a roadside diner. The menu looked promising but was actually worse than the breakfast. This is not going well. I got a burger. It was… edible. I attempted to eat it with grace. Then I sneezed explosively. Burger bits flew everywhere. My emotional reaction? A mixture of horror, shame, and a deep, abiding love for napkins.
- 1:00 PM: The San Luis Border Crossing. So, I thought, I’d try to visit Mexico for 30 minutes. It was a disaster. Long lines. I was not prepared. I turned around.
- 3:00 PM: The Pool, Round 2. I attempted to enjoy the pool again. I spent my time sitting there until I got bored.
Day 3: The Great Escape (and Final, Desperate Margarita)
- 8:00 AM: Farewell Breakfast. I skipped it. Granola bars for the win.
- 9:00 AM: Getting out of here. They gave me the bill. The staff was nice.
- 10:00 AM: Headed towards the airport.
- 11:00 PM: Last call. The airport bar was open. I ordered a margarita. It was good.
Quirky Observations:
- Yuma is a place where the sun is always watching. You can feel it.
- The desert has a very dry sense of humor.
- I am apparently incapable of applying sunscreen correctly.
Emotional Reactions in a Nutshell:
- Relief. Exasperation. A yearning for a decent coffee. A constant, low-level anxiety about the desert's emptiness.
Final Thoughts:
Yuma? It's… an experience. Would I go back? Maybe. Probably not. Did I learn anything? Yes. I learned that I need to invest in a better travel mug, a much bigger supply of emergency snacks, and a professional sunscreen applicator. And maybe, just maybe, a friend who understands my deep, abiding need for a margarita during times of existential crisis.
P.S. If you're ever in Yuma, and stumble across a suspiciously empty vending machine, leave a bag of pretzels for the next poor soul. They'll thank you. I thank you. (And maybe, just maybe, leave a note about the nearest margarita… just in case.)
Novosibirsk Dream Apartment: Center City Design Project REVEALED!
Why do I feel like I'm always running late, even when I'm early? Seriously, what's my deal?
Oh, honey, my friend, I feel your pain! It's a constant battle. I swear, I'm early, I'm *ready*, then BAM! The universe throws in an extra "five more minutes" of existential dread, and suddenly I'm sprinting down the street, look like a sweaty mess, wondering if I've offended a god or something.
I think it's a combo platter of things. First, the *planning* itself. Do I *really* know how long it takes to find a matching pair of socks? Apparently not. Then there's the mental gymnastics - "Okay, leave at *this* time, but factor in *that*... Ugh, this is why I hate planning. Then there's the, ahem, *brief* moments of existential questioning that always seem to crop up right before I leave the house. "Am I doing enough with my life? Should I have had that extra piece of toast? Is my hair on point?" All that jazz leads to a constant sense of being behind. The best advice I have? Lie to myself. "Oh yeah, I'm leaving like, an hour early!" That sometimes works!
What's the weirdest thing that's ever happened to you?
Okay, buckle up, because this one's a doozy. Picture this: I was in college. Broke. I'm talking ramen noodles three times a day kind of broke. I desperately needed money. I saw an ad in the local newspaper. "Psychic Readings - $20". Ah, what the heck.
The place was...unique. Let's just say the decor screamed "budget-friendly." This woman, Madame Evangeline (real name, or at least, that’s what she told me) sat down, closed her eyes, and started... well, rambling. It was a whole other world! "I see... a raven... and a... a *teapot*... and... yes! A man with a banjo!" (No lie folks!). I was flabbergasted! But then... she mentioned, with all the dramatic flair of a Shakespearean actor, "You will find money, but *beware the cheese!*" The whole prophecy was so specific. It was utter nonsense. I left, feeling kinda silly, but I somehow got the idea that I'd get money.
Two days later, I was walking home from a really terrible retail job, and I found $50 on the ground. Fifty whole, glorious dollars. And where was the $50? Next to a half-eaten block of cheddar cheese, on the curb. Cheese. I swear, it still gives me chills. Is it a coincidence? Sure. But it's fun to dream... right?
What's the most embarrassing thing you've ever done? (Come on, spill!)
Ugh. Where do I even *begin*? Okay, I've got a few contenders. But the one that still makes me want to curl up and die? Freshman orientation. I was trying *so* hard to be cool, you know? So, there I was, trying to blend in with the effortlessly trendy college kids. We were all playing some icebreaker game. And the prompt was "What's your biggest fear?"
Well, my turn comes up, and with all the grace of a newborn giraffe, I blurt out, "Being... eaten by clowns!" Silence. I could feel everyone's eyes on me. The girl in the front row, the one with the perfect eyeliner, let out a tiny giggle. And my face? A crimson tide. I spent the rest of the orientation hiding in the bathroom, trying to mentally rewind time and somehow choose a less... embarrassing fear. I still look back and cringe.
What's your advice for someone feeling lost or directionless in life?
Oh, honey, I feel you! Okay so here's the thing. We've all been there. Lost, adrift, staring into the abyss of the existential void, wondering what's the point of it all. (Just me? Okay...). My advice? First of all, breathe. It's hard. It's okay to *not* have all the answers. Sometimes, those "answers" change anyway.
Second, remember this: Life isn't a straight line. It’s a messy, chaotic scramble. Embrace the mess! I used to be terrified of failing. Now I try to laugh at it. Every mistake, every stumble, it's all part of the journey. The best adventures are the unexpected ones, the ones that seem like absolute disasters at the time. Learn from them. Laugh at them. And hey, maybe try a new hobby. Take a walk. Eat a cookie. Find something, *anything*, that brings you a little joy. That's what matters.
What do you think is the most important thing in life? (Cheesy, I know.)
Oh, come on. This is getting mushy! Okay, here goes... It's not money, that's for sure. (Although, wouldn't mind a little bit more of it). It's not fame, I can tell you I have no interest in being famous from my clown phobia! It's not a fancy car or a huge house. (Though, a place of my own without a roommate would be pretty cool).
It's connection. Genuine, authentic connection. Those moments of laughter with friends where your stomach hurts. The feeling of love for family, even when they drive you crazy. Those random conversations with strangers that make your day better. Those moments when you truly *see* another human being, and they see you back. That's where the *real* good stuff is.
And you know what else? A really good cup of coffee. But seriously. Connection. It's everything.
How do you deal with feeling down or sad? (Spill the tea!)
Ah, the blues. I've got a PhD in them, unfortunately. Okay, first thing, I allow myself to *feel* it. I don't try to brush it under the rug. Sadness is a real emotion, like it is a bad thing. So I'll wallow for a bit. Watch a sad movie. Eat a pint of ice cream (or two. Don't judge). Sometimes, I just need a good cry.
Then, when I'm ready to crawl out of that dark hole, I try a few things. I call a friend. A good, *real* friend who doesn't mind hearing me complain. I go for a walk outside. Fresh air and sunshine can sometimes work wonders. Sometimes, I force myself to do something, even if it's something small. Like,Globetrotter Hotels
