Alabama

I've been in Alabama for the last couple of days and, while these are just the nicest people and I may go to hell for saying it, the state is full of serious hicks. I know -- I am terrible. Nevertheless it is totally true. My god, get a full set of teeth.

Anyway, I have really enjoyed visiting Montgomery and Birmingham. I was a history major in college, and the Civil War and Civil Rights are two eras that really interest me. I loved both the Rosa Parks Museum in Montgomery and the Civil Rights Museum in Birmingham. Years ago I visited the National Civil Rights Museum in Memphis and I thought it was a terrible museum. All the exhibits are heavy on text and reading, so I found myself quickly exhausted and bored while surrounded by a subject with which I am fascinated. I have always held that museum in immediate contrast to one I saw a couple of days later, the WMBA museum in Knoxville. Driving around the state, my mother and I coincidentally stayed next door to the WMBA museum. I felt obligated to visit and support the league. (Leola did not.) I  don't really care about basketball or the WMBA, but I still thought it was a great museum. It is interactive with all different type of exhibits, on varying topics. There were exhibits about Title 9, sports injuries, college rivalries (with lots about three-peat champions Tennessee Lady Vols) -- the museum ends at a half court with a sign suggesting that one of the young visitors might be the next WNBA star. All of it was very interesting and very well done.

The two Civil Rights museums that I have visited in Alabama had all of these features. For example, the Rosa Parks museum has a mock bus and shows a full reenactment of her arrest on screens in the windows. The civil rights center begins with exhibits about African American life under the Jim Crow laws, showing by example how 'separate' is not 'equal.' We see a typical white classroom side by side with a typical black classroom, we see a pair of drinking fountains; the Infant mortality disparity is represented by crosses, class-size by textbooks and labor statistics by blue shirts/white shirts. Especially interesting was an display about black-face minstrels and the subtle prejudiced of Aunt Jemima. They did a great job showing the daily indignities and repression designed to maintain the racial status-quo. Then the museum moves on to the Civil Rights movement, showing a jail cell with audio playing MJK's 'Letter from the Birmingham Jail,' a burned out bus and personal accounts illustrate the experience of the Freedom Riders.  Located in historically significant spot, the museum even makes their windows part of the displays. A sunny view of a park has a display sign reminding us that Bull Connor famously used attack dogs and fire hoses against marchers at this spot. An exhibit about the 2002 trial of the 16th Street Church bombers (when the four young girls were killed) is centered around another picture window, this one looking out at famous church. I was so glad to see that this important part of history was being retold in such an interesting and educational way. I happily spent hours wandering thorough both places.

Oddly another facinating civil rights lesson was given during my tour of the Montgomery Capital building. Standing in front of the portrait of George Wallace my mid-60s black guide told the group that he was a participate of the "Bloody Sunday" march. This was a voting march from Selma to Montgomery. I was told that Governor Wallace had given orders to stop the marches at all costs. According to my guide, Wallace thought that targeting the whites would deny the movement financial backing, so they were the most viciously attacked that day.  He said that while walking with interlocked arms with a white woman from Detroit, someone jumped out of the crowd and cut her head off with a machete. "The strange part was that her body kept right on marching for a couple of steps." , What an amazing and terrifying story. The guide continued to talk about Wallace. The man famous for saying, "segregation today, segregation tomorrow, segregation forever," had a change of heart late in life and, when elected to office for third and forth terms during the 1980s, he became an advocate for African Americans. The guide said that he personally had forgiven the Governor for this role in segregation and that he had worked in his administration in the 80's. Then he said that he was one of Wallace's pallbearers. At this point, I started to think my guide might be full of shit.  But who knows? It was interesting!

Biloxi

I was planning to drive right past Biloxi, but then I saw a sign for the Jefferson Davis House. You know how I love to follow random signs, so I pulled off and heading for this local attraction. I am glad that I got off the highway and  saw the Biloxi beach -- it is really gorgeous.

After the South lost the Civil War, Jefferson Davis was captured and imprisoned. Two years later he was released, defeated and impoverished. He ended up renting a small cottage on the estate of an admirer, where he wrote his memoirs. He eventually bought the estate, Beauvoir. After his death, the estate was turned into a home for Confederate Veterans and has a large Confederate cemetery.

In addition to the house, they are building a 'Presidential Library' on the grounds. When I first saw this large, unfinished concrete building, I thought of the Crazy Horse monument in the Black Hills. Was this another overly ambitious project with little hope of completion? After seeing the pictures of the Katrina damage to the house, and the relatively quick restoration, I realized that there would be enough money to complete the library. Apparently the state has been very generous with funding...

Once again I got a private tour.

New Orleans

God punished me for the blog about being in the only warm part of America. I woke up to teeming, freezing rain, and I decided to skip my planned trip to Avery Island, the birthplace of Tabasco. Also quickly off the itinerary was my small hope for a swap tour. Oh well -- I guess for this time of year I have been pretty lucky so far.  I am determined not to let it slow me down... too much.

Jacque-imo's
(too cold for me to stop, so
pic from Google images)

I have been to New Orleans before, visiting the D-Day and Voodoo museums, touring the Garden District and enjoying many too many hurricanes (the cocktail) on Bourbon Street. This time I just wanted to see some of the Katrina damage and enjoy the culture. With my friend Christine, I drove around Lakeview and saw a little of the remaining flood damage (I was actually impressed by how little there was) and then enjoyed a fabulous dinner at the original Jacques-imos. The alligator pie and BBQ shrimp are soooo good! The next day it was so cold I decided to head to a museum where I would stay warm. I went to the Louisiana state museum in the French Quarter, where Let's Go promised an exhibit on Mardi Gras. Unfortunately that section was closed for renovation and the rest of the museum is dedicated to an exhibit about Katrina. It felt wrong that my entire trip seemed to be about the disaster, instead of about the revitalized culture in this fabulous city. (But now I know more about the flooding and levy construction than I ever hoped to learn.)  Bundling up in my down coat, pom-pom hat and cashmere lined gloves, I braved the frigid temperatures to walk around the quarter for awhile. I headed down Royal Street looking like a fool, but relatively warm. It wasn't so bad, and it would have been terrible to skip this touristy mainstay. And I did get to see some of the Mardi Gras decorations!

The best part of my trip was that I got to stay with my old friend Christine and her family.

When I was 16 years old, I participated in the AFS exchange program and traveled to Ecuador. I lived for the summer with a family in Ambato, a city of about 200,000 people. Most of the students were assigned to Ecuador's two big cities, the capital Quito or the port Guayaquil. There were only three of us sent to Ambato. We traveled to Quito as a big group, then the three of us were put on a bus to Ambato. The bus was right out of the movies -- loud salsa music playing, chickens running up and down the aisle, red tassel decorations and passengers (?) hanging off the sides. Despite studying Spanish since 7th grade, I did not understand a word anyone was saying. How were we going to know when to get off? How were we ever going to get our luggage down from the top of the bus? I was overwhelmed, jet-lagged and felt incredibly out of place. Amazingly we arrived alive and with our possessions.

I soon learned that my host family lived around the corner from, and were good friends with, the host family of one of the other AFS students, Christine Carbin from Wisconsin. This was a huge relief. The third student, Jeremy, left with his family and was never heard from again. (I jest - we met up with him a couple of times and I did see him on the return journey.) Christine and I spent most of the summer together. We were both living with strange families, speaking in a foreign language and experiencing a new culture for the first time. It definitely a bonding experience.

At the end of the summer, the whole group traveled back to the U.S. through the Miami airport. We arrived late, and everyone missed their connections and were put up at the airport hotel. Flying to New York, I was the only one able to get on a flight that night. I remember leaving just as the group figured out how to have Domino's delivered to the hotel room. Jealous of their 'American' pizza after a summer of eating chicken feet soup, I said goodbye and headed to my gate. That was the last time I saw Christine.

We kept in touch for a couple of years, but eventually and inevitably fell out of contact. Through the miracle of Facebook we reconnected. (Btw, I just saw The Social Network, and I think we all need to quit FB so that Mark Zuckerburg doesn't end up ruling the world. You first - I promise to quit right after you do.)

I sent Christine a message that I was heading in her direction and suggested that we have dinner to catch up. She immediately replied and offered me her guestroom! Wow -- this was pretty brave since she hasn't seen me since we were 16. I have become such a cheapsake that I had no such hesitations. Sure I barely know her, but this was a free place to stay in a fairly expensive city.

B-ball has a new fan!

After I won over two-year old Lucy with pictures of Butterball and my 'Talking Rex' iPhone app, I had a great time getting to know 7-year old Isabella, 5-year old Natalie and Christine's husband Tim. I especially loved reconnecting and reminiscing with Christine. (Our favorite stories to laugh over included the dinner when we were served guinea pig, my tomato-like sunburn during our trip to the jungle and her painting ceramic figurines with her younger host siblings while I got drunk with my older ones. It was a really interesting summer!)

Despite the cold, New Orleans was great. I really did make a lifelong friend that crazy summer in Ecuador!

(Sorry, no Ecuador pictures on my computer!)

NASA

By coincidence I was visiting NASA immediately following the 25th anniversary of the Challenger explosion. That morning CNN played the entire disaster sequence -- they showed the astronauts waving as they boarded the shuttle, the countdown all the way through to the explosion, followed by the horrified reactions of the onlookers. By the time Reagan was telling the nation that the astronauts had "slipped the surly bonds of earth to touch the face of God," I was staring a the ceiling and blinking back tears.

The Space Center is mostly for kids, but the tram tour of the actual NASA facilities is really interesting. There are a lot of dull square buildings with few distinctive features, but inside you get to see Mission Control, astronaut training facilities (including a seemingly full sized fake shuttle and space station) and what they call 'Rocket Park.' Because it was the weekend they took us to see the actual Mission Control Room instead of the 'historic control room' mock-up that you see when the real room is staffed. The tour guide explained that the next mission will likely be the shuttle's last before they introduce the Orion, part of the new Ares series of flights that are designed to work towards the Mars landing.

NASA is in an all out push for Mars. At Marymount an Astronaut came to speak to the middle school girls and told them that they are the right age to make this historic flight. "When NASA is ready, you will be the perfect age to be one of the first people to travel to Mars. Study math and science and you could be on this mission," she informed them. After her talk, I was disappointed. Despite my utter lack of qualifications, I am now also too old for interplanetary travel -- bummer.

One summer while working in Oxford, I asked one of the many Rhode Scholars staffing the program what she planned to do in the future. She told me that she was heading to MIT to finish her PhD and then she hoped to work for NASA and become an astronaut. I was speechless. Here was a person who "wants to be an astronaut" and likely would do it. I googled her while I was on line for the tram tour. Sarah is currently a White House scholar and working on the NASA's Mars Exploration Rover Team. (She was clearly over qualified working as the OxBridge's book keeper.) How great is that? I really hope she makes it into space -- I can't wait to say "I knew her when..."

The tour of NASA ends in 'Rocket Park' where they have one of the unused Saturn IV rockets built in the 70's. it was never used due to cutbacks. It is enormous! Lying on it's side, it fills and entire building. I took a bunch of pictures, but it just looks like I am zooming in -- I am not.

Oddly, there is also a herd of Texas Long Horns across the road from the rockets. They were breed by school children and one of them is a prize winner worth $500,000.  (I think it's the one pictured, but really who knows?) They seemed out of place at NASA, but certainly not in Texas!

The makings of a very expensive hamburger.

The Beer House

One of the best things about following the Let's Go guide through the US is that next to the cultural sites, like museums and historic homes, it lists things like "The Beer House." When I saw this was one of Houston's landmarks, it quickly went to the top of my to-do list. I mean, come on -- it's a house made from beer cans!

I drove up fully expecting to see the bright blue house from the Bud Light Superbowl commercial last year. When I saw that it wasn't, I was sadly disappointed and yet still oddly fascinated. The guy (clearly another crazy) who did this didn't stack the cans, but instead cut them open and tacked the aluminum squares to the house as siding. (A handy side effect was that this made the house quite energy efficient.) Over the years, the labels have faded and now the house looks like a big silver box. He took the tops of the cans

Bud Light Beer House Commercial

and created garland that hangs off the sides. It acts like wind-chimes and even the slightest breeze sets the house to jingling. Between this and the tourists, the neighbors in this residential area must curse this man every day. Inside the house was a quote that I found that summed up the entire place: "I don't consider this art. It's just a pastime. But something I lie awake at night, trying to figure out why I do it."

I'm in no hurry!

Have you seen the weather map?!? I think I am in the only part of North America that is not covered in snow. Ahhahahahahaha! Luv it. I'm in no hurry to get back to the northeast...

Weird Streets

In Northern California I passed Zzyzx Road.

It was a strange name and I made note of it, but continued driving. (Other people did take pictures, so this photo is swiped from the internet.)

In Gonzales, Texas I passed Zint street!

This time I pulled over and took a picture. I was amazed -- it looks just like how my mail comes addressed. I almost told the kids playing in the yard nearby that they were living on my street. But then I decided that would be weird.

My night out in Austin

I went out in Austin and had a fabulous time! I wandered into a random place with "BBQ" on the door. Oh, my, God -- the food was so good. It may be well known, Stubbs? So good. I ordered the spinach side, then learn that this was one of the best items on the menu. Again, SO GOOD! It is spicy. Yummy. Hanging out in the bar after dinner (hoping to see some free 'live music') I meet some fun, friendly people who insisted I hang out with them. Slightly nervous, I texted their details to Chris and then went bar hopping. We didn't make it farther than across the street, but nevertheless it was a ton of fun. Love Austin!

San Antonio and Austin

The Alamo

The most important thing to know about San Antonio and Austin is the weather. It has been in the high 60's for the last two days. I have been watching the news and actually feel guilty about the weather in New York. Tomorrow it is going to be 72. We should all move here -- it's spring-like and they are practically giving away the real estate. How bad can it be in the summer? We'll get a pool. It will be fine!

Riverwalk

San Antonio has a cute little downtown area. I wandered around, saw the Alamo and enjoyed the Riverwalk area. The river has an oddly artificial quality about it, but it is lined with a million restaurants and bars. I stopped for a beer and enjoyed the sunshine. I would have stayed longer, but there was an incredibly annoying waiter so I left quickly.

LBJ

In Austin I decided to go to the LBJ museum and library. It was an interesting place, but I spent too much time walking through the exhibits about his early years so I was rushed and missed most of the Vietnam exhibit. I did see one mention that Johnson and his advisers 'believed' that the second Gulf of Tonkin incident was legit when they escalated the war. I was impressed that they alluded to this controversy at all. Most of the exhibits were about his legislative achievements, like the Civil Rights act.

A state gift from Iran

For me, one especially interesting part of the museum of is an exhibit on gifts that Johnson was given, by both visiting heads of state and regular folks. The state gifts on display included enormous elephant tusks, gold swords, a Diego Rivera painting from Mexico and this beautiful Persian horse sculpture from Iran. The gifts from the regular citizens ranged from a pair of needlepoint sleepers with the

Lame gifts U.S. give to visiting
Heads of State

presidential seal to an enormous bowie knife. There was also a large variety of gavels -- apparently this was a popular choice. A write-up mentioned that these were just samples of the thousands of gifts a president gets during an administration. I wonder if the givers knew that gifts would most likely end up in storage. I wondered what gifts the U.S. gave in return until I stumbled upon a display of copies of some of these presents. Apparently Johnson preferred gifts of a historical or personal nature. These included a replica of George Washington's reading lamp/candle stand, an ugly chess set and Jefferson's writing stand. One

Fake Oval Office

American born Foreign diplomat was given a framed copy of his birth certificate. These gifts seem pretty lame compared to the others. Perhaps Johnson figured out the whole ends-in-storage part...
I snapped a quick picture of the fake oval office before being thrown out promptly at 5:00 p.m.

Now, much to my chagrin, Austin is the self proclaimed live music capital of the world so I have to go out and find some. Wish me luck.

Kate Middleton's got nothing on me!

Today I broke out the sparkly headband that I bought at J Crew while Christmas shopping. It was like wearing a tiara. I was the queen of Carlsbad Caverns and I looked fabulous.

Faith, Science and Fiction

I've spent the last three days in Santa Fe. I've been staying with my old friend Dana's mom. Dana, as you may remember, lives in Seattle and came to Vancouver with me. (Immediately Mrs. Smith insisted that I call her Phillis. This is a perfectly reasonable request since I am no longer 5 years old. But, no surprise to anyone who knew me during the Mr. Bryant/Frank era, I just couldn't do it. I'm not sure if she noticed, but I spent the entire visit in 'Hey, you' mode.) Dana's brother Chris also lives in Santa Fe, with his wife and two kids. If this trip has yielded nothing else, it has been a wonderful chance to catch up with all these people who I have not seen in years. Chris and I idled away an entire morning chatting under the pretext of taking down Mrs. Smith's Christmas tree. (I was shockingly useless at this oddly complicated task.) I spent that afternoon at the Santa Fe History Museum and learn everything that I will ever need to know about the history of the state during an hour and a half long tour. (I think I was asking too many questions.)

The next morning I was up early and headed north to visit a handful of small churches that are on the road to Taos. The first was the Sanctuary at Chimayo. Chimayo is known for it's healing dirt. "Huh?" you say. Me too. There's a legend that I won't bother relaying, but next to the beautiful, small sanctuary, is a little room filled with crutches and casts. In the center of the floor is a dirt filled hole with a tablespoon in it. Pilgrims are allowed/encouraged to fill up the little jars that they sell in store with the sacred dirt. It was early and there were few people in the church with me, but I couldn't bring myself to even touch the dirt. I question a lot about the Catholic faith in general, but I know I don't believe in healing dirt. I respect other people's beliefs and I felt my heathen curiosity was bad ju-ju. Maybe I do believe, because I was almost certain that if I touched the dirt it would infect some tiny cut that I didn't know I had and I would end up losing a swollen, gregarious arm. Apparently I think God is vengeful.

After a couple more churches and breakfast in Taos, I drove along the Rio Grande to Los Alamos. Los Alamos has a wonderful science museum mostly dedicated to the Manhattan Project. It was interesting to learn about the town during the war. It's entire existence was top-secret and the resident's driver's licenses, marriage certificates and even birth certificates stated that they lived at P.O. Box 1663. The average age of the town was 25 years old. Although the museum expends a lot of energy justifying the use of the bomb to end WWII, it also contains personal anecdotes from the staff who seem less certain about creating such a destructive force after the fact. The most famous quote is from the project manager Oppenheimer who, after witnessing the first successful nuclear test repeated the Sanskrit line, "Now, I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds."



Looking at the photos of 1940's safety precautions and replicas of Fat Man and Little Boy, I was once again wigged out. Suddenly I was sure that the town was poisoned. How many of these people got sick from their work here? Has anyone tested the dirt or air lately? I suddenly regretted not having a jar of sacred dirt in my car! It felt like a good time for a healing mud bath.

Back in Santa Fe, I went to the Loretto Chapel with it's 'miraculous' staircase. The chapel was build with only a ladder leading up to the choir balcony. This proved too much of a struggle for the nuns at the girl's school and when they tried to have a staircase built it was declared impossible without taking up most of the small chapel's seating. The nuns said a novena to St. Joseph (patron saint of carpenters) and a mysterious man appeared who built a staircase that defied all engineering concepts of the time and left without being paid. My skepticism was back. It looks like a larger, wooden version of a staircase found in any typical Manhattan duplex. Granted, it has no center support and has only been reinforced to the side walls after almost a hundred years of use.

This morning I left Santa Fe and headed to Roswell. I went straight to the International UFO Museum and Research Center. This is one of the more ridiculous places I have ever been. It is located in an old movie theater and works very  defensively to bolster it's claims about the local alien crash. The museum is overwhelmed with written affidavits attesting to the truth of the UFO crash. It details the Army "cover up" in the 40's and continues by refuting a 1994 government report that attempted to finally resolve the rumors and speculation. The 'museum' has wall after wall of UFO photos, even showing the ones that have been deemed fakes. They seemed to be saying "If we declare these pictures fakes, you must believe us that these others are not." It is one preposterous exhibit after another before they finally make the argument about the vastness of space and the odds against earth being home to the only intelligent life. I think this was where they should have started. I love kitsch, but this place was too much.

Meteor Crater, Painted Desert and Petrified Forest

I had forgotten how much fun it is to just head towards random things off the highway! I decided at the last minute to check out the meteor crater off the I-40 in Arizona. The size is deceptive; on the rim there are preset view-finders showing a "house-sized rock" across the crater and a "6-ft man" standing in the center of the crater - both were barely visible to the naked eye. I wondered why it hadn't filled with water and turned into a lake in the 50,000 years since it was created, but I figured it was in the desert so didn't stop to ask. It was neat to see, but there is not much else to say about it.

Shortly afterward, I drove through the Painted Desert and Petrified Forest National Park. I was not sure what to expect. I started in the Painted Desert part and, although beautiful, I've become a bit blase´ about the landscape.  I have been seeing brilliant red vistas since I left the south rim of the Grand Canyon and this just seemed like an opportunity to stop and take some pictures. Parts of the desert were speckled with snow and I loved the contrast. When I entered the Petrified Forest section of the park, I was surrounded by striped hills. Was this it? Hmmm. I wondered how much farther into the park I should keep driving.  I mean you've seen one striped hill, you've seen them all, right?

I decided to pull over to take a closer look before moving on. It turns out that the petrified part of the Petrified Forest is the petrified wood. (Yes, maybe I could have figured this out by the name.) It is really, really cool. From a distance it looks like a bunch of downed trees or logs. Only when you walk up and touch them do you realize that they are actually rocks. These are ancient trees that have been literally been petrified. The visual and tactile disconnect is disconcerting. They look like wood, but are cold rock. The center of these enormous logs has turned into a rainbow crystal from the different minerals. I'm not sure it comes across in the pictures, so I will say it again - it was really, really cool.  This was definitely one of my favorite stops.

Something I miss...

One thing that I miss about being in the middle of nowhere in the Northwest versus being in the middle of nowhere in the Southwest - free Internet access. Every little bar, restaurant and dinner has open wifi. Not here. Now I just have bad cell reception and the ubiquitous 'E' inticating slow, slow page views. Argh.

Grand Canyon Ranch

I'm not sure what to say about the Grand Canyon Ranch. There are very few places to stay in the area, so Loretta and I decided to venture to a Dude Ranch. Although when I used this term, it was quickly pointed out to me that this was not a 'dude ranch,' but an actual working ranch. Ummm, not really. I learned that on their a 100,000+ acres they only had a couple of hundred head of cattle that they use for rodeos, not steak. In my mind, that's not a working ranch.

We arrived and were immediately seated for a home-style dinner. We met a nice British couple, a quite couple from Puerto Rico, and a loud, drunk, obnoxious Canadian couple. Loretta and I sat quietly as she said that her dream was to visit 'IT-ly.' You know I can't stand someone when I don't bring up my own IT-ly adventures. Purely for narrative reasons, I wish I could remember her name! I know his name was Guy "or as the French pronounce it, Gee," as Ms. Canada proclaimed more then once. Shortly after we sat down, we were joined by Casey, the singing Cowboy. He asked where we were from and quickly broke into a rendition of "New York, New York." How thrilling.

After dinner we all sat around a campfire while Casey entertained us with every country song he knew. He knows them all. The night was beautiful around the fire and the stars were spectacular. Ms. Canada joined the singing at the top of her lungs throughout the evening. Her preference was to sing about 5 seconds behind the music, due to the fact that she didn't know the words. When Casey asked for requests, I wondered if he could play some original music. I hoped this might stop the duet, but I was wrong. The highlight of the evening was when Ms. Canada almost fell in the fire. Shortly after that, Loretta and I went to bed.

I did enjoy talking to some of the non-singing staff while getting our room situation sorted out (at first Loretta and I had only one double bed). It was clear that the real ranch hands prefer to avoid singing-Casey and the overnight guests he is entertaining. After we all made fun of the Canadians for a bit, it came up that they didn't have many American guests. One of the actual ranch hands had joined the conversation (he had to escort the Canadians on a sunset tour), and when he heard that I was from New York he asked a lot of questions about the city. My favorite was "Don't you all have to walk in the same direction on the sidewalk?" Huh? He thought we had one-way sidewalks because of the hordes of people. Despite this, he was still shocked (shocked!) when I said that eight million people live in the city.  Right before Loretta and I boarded the helicopter, we got to watch him and another cowboy wrangle a couple of stray cows off the launch pad. Fun!

The Grand Canyon

When Loretta got snowed in at Christmas, our trip to the Grand Canyon was canceled. As a consolation, she offered to fly out and meet me "where ever you are" for the MLK long weekend. I suggested that we try Vegas and see the Grand Canyon from there. This meant that we would visit Grand Canyon West instead of the National Park at the South Rim, which had been our original destination.  Despite another snow scare, this time we actually made it!

We set out leisurely from Vegas on Friday morning and stopped at the Hoover Dam en-route. We were timing it to arrive at the Grand Canyon for the sunset. It is supposed to be the best time to see the canyon because the colors are the most vibrant and the shadows highlight the rocks. We approached the complex just as the sun was going down, only to learn that we would need to board a bus for the final couple of minutes drive to the rim and that the buses had stopped running! What?!? I snapped a quick picture of the beautiful landscape visible from the parking lot and swallowed my disappointment.

View from the West Rim parking lot

Luckily we were staying in the area overnight, so it wasn't a big deal -- it was just annoying. We hit the gift shop and grabbed a brochure about the admission fee and different tour packages that they offered. We discovered that the cheapest visit to the rim was over $60 per person. It would cost another $29.99 to go on the 'Skywalk,' which is a glass platform built over the canyon. Even more restricting, you can't take pictures on the platform. Instead they sell them to you. You are also required to wear booties, which cost $5 a piece. The whole visit would be one fee after another. Grand Canyon West is not part of the Grand Canyon National Park, but is located on the Hualapai Indian Reservation. I guess they are too close to Vegas to build their own casino, so instead they are bilking tourists for every dollar. When we arrived at the Grand Canyon Ranch for the night, we learned that they offered 20 minute helicopter tours into the Canyon for a mere $160 each. We decided to go for it.

The next morning we got up early (easy to do when you go to sleep at 9:30pm), had breakfast and boarded the horse-drawn wagon to the helicopter pad. In a piece of luck, we were the only people on the fight and got a private tour of this part of the canyon. The pilot even took a picture of the two of us (I was thinking "shouldn't you be FLYING the helicopter??). I'm sure Loretta will be posting it on facebook momentarily. The helicopter was a great way to view everything. We even saw the Skywalk. From our vantage (we were inside the canyon and actually looking up at it), it seemed small and pathetic. I took a billion pictures -- enjoy!

I was still disappointed that I had missed the sunset, so on Monday I decided to head for the National Park at the South Rim ('cuz really, I have nothing better to do!). A five and a half hour drive and I was there at 4:30 pm. Excitingly, and unexpectedly, the $25 parking fee for was waved because it was Martin Luther King Day! Yeah, National holidays. (You may have noticed that I've become obsessed with the price of things -- this is because I'm hemorrhaging money. Granted this didn't stop me from gambling prodigiously while in Las Vegas.) The colors and views were beautiful -- sunset over the canyon is magnificent and it was worth the drive. You can even see the moon in some of the pictures. I'm sorry you missed it, Lolo.