Disappointment in Sun Valley

This antique store was cool. But, so what, Sun Valley? You suck.

By the time I took a bite out of a lackluster turkey and avocado sandwich (sneeze and the whole wheat bread would shatter), I realized my mistake.

It all came crashing down on me at once: the hour drive into Sun Valley, a ski resort destination favored by celebrities and avid skiiers/snowboarders, March, Bruce Willis lived in Hailey, the town before the destination, didn’t he?

Celebrities don’t eat diner food. They’re on diets for their jobs. Many of them have an unhealthy relationship with food, because or in spite of their job.

Celebrities jack up the price of everything in any town they turn into a celebrity destination.

Celebrities and winter athletes tend to play all day up in the snowy mountains, snowboarding, skiing, etc., then hunker down around the fire pit and eat their one, lavish meal of the day, usually fondue, or some carb-heavy spread (pizza, burgers).

We naively expected Sun Valley to be bustling with activity, folksy, with Wild Wild West themes, and plenty of bakeries, cafes, diners, and coffee houses.

What we found was a ghost town, similar to Banff, Whistler, and Leavenworth, the few snow towns we’ve been.

Most restaurants were closed until dinner, after 4:30 to 5 p.m. The handful that were open were overpriced ($47 for soup and salad) and low in quality.

Hardly anyone was there. We wandered the main road and a few side streets, halfheartedly, before my husband got so hungry he didn’t care where he ate.

We wandered into a generic-looking soup-and-sandwich shop, ordered fish and chips, two small clam chowders (cheese or croutons?), and drinks, and sat in a booth in the empty restaurant. A second server was seated in front of us, looking at her smartphone — never a good sign.

I could’ve emptied a can of chowder myself. Definitely could’ve baked bread better than the two slices of stale, skinny white bread that came with the chowder (glad I didn’t order it in an emaciated “bread bowl”).

Our son’s fish and chips tasted store-bought, and reheated.

We looked out at the non-activity outside, and wondered why anyone would come here.

Granted, we came here expressly for the views and the food, but not this.

A lot more places weren’t even open during the weekend. Hailey and Bellevue weren’t much better.

After roasting our $47 lunch for three, I found my coffee shop, Java-something, and ordered my beloved breve latte. I looked at the breakfast/lunch menu, heart sinking, because we could’ve gone here. Food closed at 3 p.m. Nope. We arrived after the bewitching hour. Oh well. I’ll have to get my bagel and egg burrito somewhere else…

On the drive back home to Twin Falls, Nature called. I went into a health food grocery to use the restroom. The worker there pointed one out, impersonally, with a naturopathic stick up her ass. It was a hoity-toity celebrity-chic place where everyone knew everyone, and nobody was poor.

I should’ve known better than to get excited about another ski resort town. Every one we’ve been to has been the same.

A fancy, pricy ghost town set for the rich and famous, open only at night.

Originally published at https://carolbankswebercoggie.wordpress.com on March 14, 2021.

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