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Oh, the Places You'll Go (Tales From the Southwest)
April 18, 2002
They are beautiful.
The rocks are red, or pink, or orange, or a combination thereof. The rocks are striped in perfect layers. The rocks are marbled, like a piece of raw meat. The rocks are dripping with colors, like hot wax on a candle. But the rocks are always there, and always red, or pink, or orange, or a combination thereof.
RVs are nearby. Someone is selling something.
The sky is blue. The sun is hot. Chapstick would be helpful, a bottle of water too. Dust covers the dashboard of the car, covers your hiking shoes and your pants, makes your hair stiff.
Do you have to go to the bathroom? Better go now.
Aaron and I drive to Canyon de Chelly (pronounced "Canyon de Shay"). It's beautiful. It's free. We hike to the bottom of the canyon, saying the whole way, "I wonder if we should go back," and always instead moving forward. We drive to Monument Valley, where John Ford filmed all those Westerns, where Stanley Kubrick filmed those apes in 2001. It looks like a movie. It should. We drive to Southern Utah, home of the Mormons and the immaculately kept bathroom. We camp in Bryce Canyon and then we camp in Zion National Park. My God, they keep these bathrooms clean. My God, it's beautiful. Aaron considers converting to Mormonism. We argue over whether the delicate trees with pink blossoms are cherry trees or peach trees. We have no evidence, only strongly held opinion.
We don't bathe for five days. On the last day, Aaron is scraping his scalp with a rock. I would describe my smell as a "hot dog with raw onions."
There are parts of the Southwest that look like Mars. If someone drugged me, plopped me down there, and said, "Here you are on Mars," I would probably believe them. At least for a little bit.
Do you know much about reservation life, like how they have their own courts of law and stuff? Me neither. I should probably read a book or something, huh? Like something about modern reservation life.
The roads twist and climb. Miles and miles of nowhere, no one. Not even a tree to piss behind.
That'll be ten dollars, please.
