The Grand Californian: Is It Worth It?

I took a proper camera to Disneyland on our twoish-day getaway last week (this was before the new camera arrived), but I didn't really take any photos of the property other than the odd snap with the iPhone. I was just always tired or sore-footed. Wah wah wah.

I know, I know: all that money spent on a Disney room (which, unlike in Florida, doesn't come in a "value resort" flavour) and so few photos. But we did enjoy the room! The question is: is it worth it? Even on sale?

I don't know. I'm spoiled for staying anywhere else at Disneyland, but for the price, I think I should feel even more spoiled.

The staff was excellent and welcoming, a reminder of the Disney service and attitude I fell in love with and learned to stop expecting in the California parks, but the hotel is wedged on the borders of Downtown Disney and California Adventure. That's a great thing, of course, being RIGHT THERE when you want to go to those two parts of the resort (although don't kid yourself that you can do much with DCA early entry except in the summer months), but...

I don't know. Maybe it's the steady foot traffic of people cutting through from one park to the other. Maybe it's the nearly ordinary furnishings in the actual room. (Florida is just as guilty there.) Maybe it's paying $50 for an upgraded view (instead of the parking lot) only to be distracted by the roof of the level below.

It was worth it once, especially since it's unlikely that we'll ever go to Disneyland again. Australia is looming, and when we return to the States for visits, we may as well go to the bigger, more luxurious Florida resort. (Pause while I try to get my head around that having been my last trip to Disneyland. No, I just can't imagine.)

It would be even more worth it if the hotels offered a protective bubble for guests to wear in the parks to defend against People Who Suck. Let's put it this way: mild-mannered Mike had to yell at the people behind us on Pirates of the Caribbean to "please shut up." Seriously, these people were talking about salads and what to get for dinner and preferred nicknames at top volume as our boat slipped through the foggy blue grotto, one of the most atmospheric parts of the ride. (And something Florida can't offer. Argh! No! This can't be the end of Disneyland! It can't!)

Back to the room. I did take some proper photos, like I said, but I can't be stuffed to get them off the old SLR right now. Besides, the internet is full of GC photos. How about I share the far-too-many Kaleidoscope photos I made with the iPad while lolling in the room, eating English toffee, and playing Ticket to Ride, recovering from life amongst the pushy/shovey/loud/entitled people?

(Yes, there's a lot of first world consumerism in my recent posts. Mike and I debate whether to buy the 2.99 pasta sauce or splurge on 5.99 pasta sauce, but we have his-n-her iPads. Then again, perhaps the secret to such treats is caring about the price of pasta sauce. And not caring about fashion. Or cars. Or fingernails, toenails, and hair. Or booze. Or children. Or possibly even going to the movies, because I have to tell you, Dark Shadows last night was more meh than funny.)

Behold, my new art series of Grand Californian kaleidoscopes. (Room only. We did sit by the fire in the lobby once. It's nice. But it's not, as another guest described it, "Something straight out of Hogwarts, man!" The hotel is too close to the parks to really make you feel like you're at a National Park Lodge.)













Enough of that. Oh, wait, here's a creepy mirror effect:

Um, that was supposed to be facing the other side up. Double mirror! (Whatever.)

The wi-fi in our room was only so-so. It's included (at the price, it should be, and so should parking), but getting a consistent signal put me back in the rabbit ears days. Now stand there. No, there. Now lean over. Lift one foot. Point your finger this way. Balance this tinfoil on your shoulder. There, that should last 10, maybe 15 minutes.


I didn't read all the terms. Maybe I will become a human icentipad, a la South Park. (I finally watched The Human Centipede last night. The production values are startlingly high!) Mind you, I already look like I'm joined to my iPad as it is.

Here's a view of one of the beds. We couldn't get a king (another thing that, at the price, you should be able to get), but these beds were quite nice. I really liked how high they were.

Oh. Hey. More kaleidoscopes.



I didn't just overwork the Photo Booth app. I also caught up on Draw Something.



Oh, I forgot to say that we actually came in the night before and did a Priceline deal ($50 - notice I will confess to this pricetag) for Crowne Plaza. It was our fave in the past, and if we'd never gone to the GC, I think we would still like it. (Gone is a lot of the Sleep Comfort stuff, though, like the soothing CD, the linen spray, and the blackout curtains. In fact, management of our curtains required climbing over an artlessly placed sofa.) Decent bed, though. Here it is:


Here's a terrible shot of the GC lobby, taken on my phone. You can see the left side of the fireplace. (The fireplace area has two long benches and at least a dozen rocking chairs. It's huge.)


Both beds:


(You can tell I'm just uploading directly to this post as I look through the photo stream for the first time since this trip. No processing. No planning.)

The bathtub was kind of twee. The lights come on really slowly when you enter the bathroom, like they don't want to waste much energy if you're only going to pee. Oh, and? You have to leave the toilet/shower area to wash your hands. That makes my stomach heave. Does housekeeping really sanitize the inside door latch in case previous guests don't realize they should wipe with one hand and open the door with the other? I worry, I do.


We did get nice Mandara spa amenities: shampoo, conditioner, body wash, lotion, shower cap, and shoe polish cloth. The soap in the bathtub had nubby bits on it. (Until Mike had one shower. He is hell on soap.)

Here's the best angle of our view from the little (cute) balcony:


Having the monorail swoosh through (when not down for repairs) was neat, but we mostly stayed inside, out of the heat.


Here's the worst angle (straight-on) of our view.


And here's just the balcony (hostess hands sweep toward the table and chairs):


One thing that is interesting in the hotel is all the baskets of fresh linen outside the rooms. Housekeeping always seemed to be hard at work. (At first we thought maybe room service came up in themey, woodsy, picnic hampers. Alas!)


A pool. We didn't go in (was never going to happen unless it was open in the middle of the dark, dark night), but the slide (barely pictured) for one of the three pools looked pretty cool.


And here's Mike just after discreetly holding open a Mickey cookbook in the gift shop so I could snap a pic of the honey-balsamic dressing recipe at Storyteller's Cafe. (Wasn't really the same when Mike made some at home, alas.)


The Storyteller's Cafe had highs and lows. Our first lunch was great except for Mike's dry-as-eff burger. Outstanding salads, good bread. I had the ravioli which was a festival of beaded-up oil, but it still tasted okay. Drinks were cold and plentiful.

The second day I got the veggie burger and it was just as dry and depressing. Service was mediocre. The food all came out at once so we couldn't enjoy the courses one at a time. Eh.

We did think about Napa Rose, but with Mike's funny sleep and my sore feet leading us to play things by ear, we didn't want to make a commitment, which we would've had to do to prearrange a vegetarian meal. (What the hell, upscale Disney resort?) The second day there was nothing on the menu for Mike.

Luckily there are restaurants just steps away in Downtown Disney, although if you want to eat after 10, you'll have to put your fingers in your ears and yell a takeaway order to the bar staff at House of Blues. (Which you should, as the food is absolutely yum-yum. I will watch chef Aaron Sanchez on Chopped with new appreciation now.) Or you can roll the dice and get the 24-hour (nice) room service from GC, but the late night menu doesn't offer vegetarians anything but that dry burger.

Oh look, I took a pic of Mike sitting a rocker by the fireplace. (I am really appreciating the low-light capabilities of the new camera now that I flinch at one grainy pic after another.)



It doesn't seem like that was a week ago. It doesn't seem like Mike came back two weeks ago. (It doesn't seem like he'll be back in Australia before we barely get in our last Vegas hurrahs, to do the end-bit of his student teaching and start setting up our home, and I probably won't see him again until the last critter is gone and I can join him. NO! MUST NOT THINK ABOUT THIS.) It doesn't seem like my last group of Honors Freshies (e.g., the ones who visited often over the years because Honors freshmen never hated me in the same way the regular ones did, although some of this year's sophomores could out-hate them all combined) have only a few days of school left. It doesn't seem like my last school year with Clark County is about to have the nails firmly tapped into the coffin. Surely I'm too old and contemplative for all of this upheaval. What next?


We do have one day left on our Park Hopper tickets...

31 May 2012 |






Carnival Elation (2009)
Carnival Splendor (2009)
Carnival Spirit (2010)
Carnival Spirit (2011)
Carnival Splendor (2011)
Norwegian Pearl to Alaska (2012)