Travelogue Chapter 9: Flagstaff, Arizona, USA

Dear Readers,

Those of you who are still reading these emails and not deleting them immediately upon their arrival - I commend you. It is a feat of endurance that is easily more impressive than a three-thousand mile roadtrip with flatulent travelling companions. And to those of you who have long since given up - well you're not reading this are you? So nevermind.

In 'Maloney's' of Albequerque, they serve beer in litre-glasses. Like I don't feel like a mini-me enough of the time already? Still, though my puny arms could barely manage to get these herculian goblets to my lips, I persevered and succeeded... if success is measured by the severity of one's hangover. It wasn't just the beer actually. A woman who worked there also gave me a cocktail (called a punany - whatever that is ;-p), which though it was nice, was a flavour I could still taste approximately twenty-four hours later. The people we met there were fun and it was one of the most enjoyable nights out I've had so far.

From Albequerque we somehow managed to stumble out of bed in time for checkout and travel over 300 miles through the incredibly beautiful countryside of New Mexico and Arizona. The horizons were just amazing and sometimes were 360 degrees. I've never seen anything like it. The skies are so beautiful, and change dramatically as you pan around we could even see it raining in places miles and miles away. I really liked New Mexico. We didn't get to Santa Fe, but I find myself thinking to myself: "next time..." I definitely think I'll be back again.

We are now in Flagstaff, Arizona. Heading off to Boulder City tommorow on the way to Vegas. We went for a swim this morning in the outdoor (that's right!) pool - and it was really lovely. It's hard to believe that it's so warm and nice here when it couldn't be anything but cold and dark in Ireland. Or is there an unseasonal heatwave? I've actually been swimming quite a bit on he holiday - we've booked into places with pools every second or third night. It's been quite necessary as a counterbalance to the effects of greasey (over-)eating and spending so much time in the car.

Oh, and just in case my travels might possibly help some future tourist to America: here's a phenomenon you need to watch for. Most often, your toast will be buttered for you but the buttered side will be down. (I've put my heart in danger of immidiate seizure on more than one occasion as a result of this - luckily it has continued to beat despite the stress I've put it under). On a second butter-related issue, it's generally white and not yellow. On pancakes it will be in on top in a spherical scoop. Like icecream. It's not icecream. I know that now.

From Arizona University, wearing my winter shorts and sandals,
Adieu.

James.

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