Sedona - Albuquerque

So we're in Flagstaff. And we decide we want to see the sunrise over Sedona's famous red rock formations. We google the time the sun will rise on that day, set our alarm clocks one hour in advance (it's a 40 mile drive), and go to bed. Wake up 4 minutes later, climb into the car, drive to fucking Sedona. The sun rises as we're about one third of the way there. Because why the fuck not. We get to the rocks, climb up to some vista point (my left foot still being sore, btw), and take a look around. I admit - it's quite pretty.

Drive back to Flagstaff, Gosia goes to sleep for another hour, until we are called down by the reception, because it's past checkout. How rude - we still have at least half an hour left!

Except we don't. Turns out Arizona is in a separate timezone from the rest of the world ("It's a redneck thing" the concierge explains), so we lost one hour when we entered the state. Hence the sunrise mishap. We never stood a chance.

Meanwhile, it turns out that one of the Pajiba people used to live in Flagstaff, so they recommend a whole bunch of stuff for us to see and eat. We do both (including something called a Navajo Taco - which is pretty good indeed), and make our way north to the Grand Canyon.

The Grand Canyon is grand and filled with Asian tourists. It's kind of like the Vegas of nature - you can't really describe it. We take pictures. I remove my hoodie to strike a Johnny Bravo pose over it, and that's the last I see of that particular article of clothing.

Once we're done oohing and aahing, we head east, towards Albuquerque. It turns out that the Grand Canyon isn't done with us yet though - at times the drive offers even more amazing views of its immensity, so I quickly forget about the hoodie.

And then we just drive, until the end of time. We arrive at the Travelodge in Albuquerque shortly before midnight, utterly exhausted, since we've been up since around 5 a.m. on account of the friggin' sunrise. Towards the end of the drive we reach a sort of desperately cheerful hysteria, laughing at the most absurd things. The motel looks like a place you go to to network with serial killers. As we fiddle with our keys, the door behind us opens and we are greeted with the sight of a very well-worn blond lady with a child in one hand and a cigarette in the other, staring at us somewhat confrontationally. We opt not to make a new friend and duck into our room - which turns out to be very clean and comfortable.