You know what I can't stand? When you're messing around on a blog and you come across that inevitable post where the authors say "Oops, sorry folks. After a long, barely forgivable intermission...we're back! Excuse #1, excuse #2, excuse #2.5. Thinly veiled self-effacing sarcastic comment that subtly shifts blame away from oneself and onto (1) others, (2) family, (3) job, (4) fate, (5) the deity(ies) of your choosing, and/or this guy. Let's get back to it."
Screw that. We don't CARE what you people think.*
Let's get back to it.
*We do care. Really, we do. Sorry.
Where were we?
Ok, we left Tucson and are on our way up to the Painted Desert and Petrified Forest via Phoenix (technically Mesa) and the Salt River Canyon. T-minus 19 days until the end of the trip.
Not the best picture. But pure, unadulterated vindication of our claims that Yelp! is always the way to go when you need food. Highest rated restaurant in Mesa, AZ? India Oven. Totally scary -- or, at a minimum, unsuspecting -- storefront. Inside: all-you-can-eat Indian Buffet for $8.95. Oh, and it comes with tandoori chicken. And naan. And dessert. And the food is AMAZING. This is one of those hellish Looney Toons nightmare situations where you're faced with pure amazingness BUT IT'S TOO MUCH AND YOU CAN'T JUST SCOOP IT INTO YOUR SHIRT TO CARRY IT OUT WITH YOU BECAUSE WHO DOES THAT?! CANIPLEASETHOUGH?
Next day. Salt River Canyon. By the time we get to the north side of it, the elevation will have risen by two thousand feet, and everything will be covered in two feet of snow. If you happen to remember the post from Utah with the 10+ hour drive from the north end of Arizona down to Tucson (the one with the drug inspection fake-out), this is the canyon I drove through, except it was totally dark, covered in snow, I had been driving without stopping for 8 hours, and I was pretty sure I was about to be abducted by aliens.
Eighth attempt at this. Sometimes nature just doesn't want its picture taken, you know? "Come on, guys. I'm just a normal person. Can't I just take a quick walk down to Whole Foods for some quinoa and vanilla rooibos without the paparazzi all up in my face??"
We may be pulled over on the side of the highway, but somehow, to Winter, fetch seems like the best idea at the moment.
There's that snow...
...gotta play fetch. We make a habit of telling people "Winter will literally jump off a cliff to go after a tennis ball, so be careful." Here's proof. If you listen carefully, you can hear her yelp when she realizes that this might be the end. (You can also see some underwear. Sexy.)
So now we're in Showlow, AZ -- so named because the founder of the town played another guy for the rights to the land, saying that whoever's card showed low would win. As we pull into town for lunch, we pass the police station. Are we under the speed limit? Yes. Are we doing everything we're supposed to? Yes. Are our blinkers working? Yes. Then why is a cop following us for two miles without pulling us over, but following us at every turn? And why is he parking right next to us at Subway? And why is he saying, "Hungry, folks?" And why is he giving us the fifth degree for ten minutes then finally saying, "Ok well enjoy your trip," after which he searches the car through the windows for five minutes WHILE WE'RE STILL SITTING THERE??
Oh, wait, I know. It's because we're ten miles south of Snowflake, AZ -- the OTHER place we got pulled over for having California plates.
Well, at least this time the Petrified Forest wasn't closed when we got there.
Desmond, these are for you:
The Petrified Forest is basically just open land covered in petrified wood (wood turned to stone over very long periods of time). But the first time you see it, it's pretty cool.
Over time, it was plundered so badly that only a tiny fraction of the wood is left.
In a sense, it's kind of just logs lying on the ground. But, they've been there FOREVER, so... that's cool.*
*Forever is, in fact, the precise scientific term for it.
"Smile, you're at the Petrified Forest!" says the lady in the red jacket to her irritated husband. "I used to be COOL once, you know." He grumbles. "Damn minivan..."
Good petrified rock, good. Here's a treat.
If you've never seen a raven walk and squawk up close, it kind of resembles the sad but equally creepy sight of a drunk homeless guy stumbling down the street muttering then screaming then again muttering to...someone.
After living in a foreign country for a while, you get irritated when you come back home and hear people making fun of those foreigners simply because of the language they speak. So, how do you deal with that? Be an ass and show up your native brethren by speaking to the foreigners loudly in their own language.
In Chinese, "Excuse me, are you all from China?" [Temporary moment of shock] "Uh...yes." "Which part?" "Wuhan." "Oh, I've been there. How long are you in the U.S. for?" [Switching to English] "Oh, well, we're from New Jersey, so..." "Oh. Okhaveagoodtripbye!"
As we were leaving, Laura heard the guy say to his wife "See, you never know [when someone will understand you when you tell your husband in Chinese "Move OVER I can't get you in the shot! You're not in the picture, move OVER!"]
Heading into the Painted Desert...
"Hey, what's that thing down--"
"WHATNOOOOOOOOO!!!"
Bringing yoga back to nature
You know those scenes in movies and TV shows where the driver clearly spends an unsafe amount of time looking directly at the passenger while conversing with them? Turns out it works on the left side too.
Uh...there are petroglyphs somewhere down there...
Only took me ten minutes to find them... Wouldn't be that big of a deal, except for the fact that the big crowd of people there found them within thirty seconds. Hint: they're small.
We've always wanted to take a roofing van cross country, but we've never found the time to just go do it.
Foreshadowing. It gets SO MUCH WORSE than this in the next post. SO MUCH WORSE.
Pueblo ruins
ANCIENT PUEBLO DOG PAW PRINT RUINS??? No. But at least they're not Winter's paw prints... don't want to mess with that kind of karma.
Ok these are a little easier to spot
Winter contemplates the plight of the latter day Native American at the Pueblo ruins
Thirteen thousand miles, right? Can anyone confirm? Anyone? Bueller?*
*Ba-ZING.
Time to get back on the road and high-tail it to Gallup, New Mexico via Zuni Pueblo -- a tiny town that comprises the vast majority of what is left of Zuni culture and the tribe's population.
That's the old route from the hellish ride down south. I'm kind of terrified to be heading back into cell phone signal-free reservation territory without a place to sleep yet...
At least it's nice looking from this end.
Didn't quite make it to Zuni Pueblo before sundown. What we DID make it in time for was the 5 pm lighting of all the kilns in town, which covers the whole area in thick smoke for a few hours. Coughcough hackhack.
Dowa Yalanne
Drunk driving checkpoint just outside Zuni Pueblo. We were the only ones waved through right away. Sad.
Witness the power of Yelp! -- we have no idea what to do or where to eat in Gallup, so we just look for the highest-rated place. It's this place: El Metate.
It's just a little house in a residential neighborhood that turns into a tamale factory at night.
Real good. Real good. The owner literally asked us, "How the hell did you find us? Yelp?" Someone knows how to rig the ratings system... Shut it down, Lemon.
Tomorrow, Chaco Canyon tries to eat us whole. Like the earth opens up and actually tries to trap us in its belly. You'll see...
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