As majestic as the Grand Canyon was, it kind of all looks the same after a while. Perhaps what was most interesting about the Canyon was the plethora of European tourists hiking the easy peasy South Rim Trail. I must have recognized six different languages; German, French, Dutch, Polish, Italian, and Portuguese. I could even swear I heard Russian in there but the languages filtered in and out off my ears so quickly, I could only grasp a few words here and there. Hardly any American tourist at the Grand and what’s even stranger is that even without them saying anything, we could pick out the Europeans, which is later confirmed as we catch a word or two in French. Was it they way they dressed? Truly they dressed no differently. Was it the large cameras they carried? I suppose any tourist, European or not would carry one. Maybe it was the way they carried themselves. Angela and I both agreed there’s something about the way they move, however subtle, that makes them decidedly European but I can’t say just what exactly. That’s the real mystery of the day.
Flagstaff wasn’t what I imagined. Perhaps its name made me expect something more prominent and all the “You should see Flagstaff” suggestions evoked a curiosity that made me convince Angela that the drive would be worth it. However, it really is just another small college town that is somewhat tourist driven being so close to the Grand Canyon.
Really, Williams was much more interesting with its street gun slinging, even if it was a rehearsed show for all the kiddies and their tourist parents. Williams is, after all, solely a town supported by tourism and yet, it still has more character than Flagstaff. The guy who played Rusty in the gun slinging bank robbing fight tried to free me of my Dairy Queen Oreo Blizzard before the big show, haranguing me for not sharing and telling me with mock seriousness that cowboys burry people who don’t share. I just giggled like a little schoolgirl. God bless Rusty.
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