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With heavy hearts on Friday the 13th we left Vegas, headed for we didn't really know where. We did know however that it was unlikely to be quite so exciting as our previous few days. After checking out an outlet mall on the edge of town, we drove in the direction of the Hoover Dam.
Hoover Dam, Hoover Schmam frankly. How grey and dull is this place? I've never seen much concrete. My Rough Guide gave us some sort of fact about the amount of concrete used to build it; something like you could build a two way road to the moon if you stretched it all out. In my eyes, this would have been a much more productive idea. Admittedly we didn't bother getting out of the car and checking it out in any detail, but the traffic was so heavy and the weather so dull, it hardly seemed worth it. I attempted to take a few photos whilst Emily drove, but they weren't particularly successful. We crossed the state line from Nevada into Arizona in the late afternoon. In all honesty we didn't have much idea about what Arizona had to offer, but had been assured by Stevey Steve (remember him from San Diego?) that it was boiling hot, so we knew that at least we could take the roof down and enjoy some serious sunshine. Or not. Arizona greeted us with a bl**dy great thunder and lightning show. It was, I have to admit, some of the most spectacular fork and sheet lightning I have ever seen, but I would've preferred the sun! I think what made it particularly strange was that we very rarely see lightning hit the ground where we live, as everywhere is so built up. Of course in Arizona the desert stretches for miles and miles in front of you, so you get to see the whole thing, so to speak. Our chosen destination was a place in northern Arizona called Kingman. About which I remember the sum total of nothing. Zilch. Nada. We stayed in a trusty Motel 6, but that's all my daily diary tells us.
The following morning we found ourselves on Route 66. This road has been pretty much put out of use by more modern interstates, but it took us to Flagstaff, which appears to be the place that backpackers head to when they want a base near the Grand Canyon. There was a hostel there, which was not a Hostelling International hostel, and so we were venturing into the unknown, but I think the both of us wanted (at least on a temporary basis) to economise after the excesses of Vegas. This meant that when they told us that the only beds they had available were in a mixed dorm, we decided to suck it up and go with it. We've been in rooms with boys before after all - how much harm could it do to be sleeping in a bunk bed alongside them?! Admittedly when we were showed the room, it smelt not unlike the boys' changing rooms used to in school, but we comforted ourselves with the fact that it was cheap and it was only for one night...Unfamiliar with what Flagstaff had to offer, we decided that it might be time for another cinema night, and headed (off the back of some fairly jumbled directions provided by the foreign receptionist at the hostel, which led us to circumnavigate the whole of the University of Arizona campus, and very nice it is too) to buy tickets for the 10.30pm showing of 'The Departed'. Once back, unwilling to spend too much time in the dorm, we went out to a little diner for dinner (as usual it killed about half an hour for us!) before realising that we had about 3 hours before the film started. We sat and watched the comings and goings in the hostel whilst reading our books, somehow resisting the offer from a stoned girl to come out to a club with her and her friends (although deep down feeling quite old and stuck in the mud) before going back out to the cinema. It's a really good film, Jack Nicholson, Matt Damon, Leonardo Dicaprio...go see it now!
When we got back to our stinky dorm, everyone was asleep. The 'bathroom' (we'll call it that...although 'smelly-possibly-cockroach-ridden-cupboard' might be more apt) was on our side of the dorm which was kind of split in 2, but it was used by all 8 people sleeping in there. We stumbled around, using our trusty torches for light and I inserted my earplugs to go to sleep. I have to admit that I was woken a couple of times, despite the earplugs, thanks to the very loud door on the 'bathroom'. Emily, on the other hand, didn't have any earplugs, and when we were woken up by people moving around at 7am, I looked down to the lower bunk to find my travelling companion, looking more than a little bit traumatised. I discovered from her that although my earplugs hadn't necessarily blocked out the sound of the door opening and closing, it had prevented me from hearing all manner of male bathroom-based noises, including belching, farting, pooing and snorting. Much as I wasn't particularly eager to test the shower after Emily had filled me on all the night's activities, I realised that it really wasn't an option as she was so disturbed and distressed that we just had to get out of there! When we checked out, the receptionist (this time a middle aged American hippy) smirked and asked if we had enjoyed the nocturnal activities...I assumed he was simply referring to the fact that we'd shared a room with a load of smelly blokes, but the lascivious look on his face told me that other guests had complained that they had been audience to a little boy-on-girl intimacy. Thank you Jack Nicholson for saving us from it!
Deciding that neither of us was fit to do a full day's sightseeing at the Grand Canyon, we decided to extend our stay in Flagstaff and went and booked into a Motel 6, where we slept and did our laundry...the bright lights of Las Vegas fading swiftly in our minds! x
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