Yesterday was my first day in Flagstaff without any definite plans. All I needed to do was reorganise my trip to the Grand Canyon, and then I would be free to explore the town.
Before I could get on with that, Marianna and Peter took me to their favourite breakfast place round the corner. The food was a very interesting arrangement for a breakfast meal; rice, beans, egg (I think), tortillas, and various other Mexican staples thrown together in one delicious mix.
Returning to the hostel, the other two had to get on with work, whilst I returned my attention back to restoring my Canyon plans.
Sitting outside, I rang up the tour company that had taken me to Monument Valley. The price was steeper than what the Hostel was offering, and would get me less of a trip. I expected both of these things. Reluctantly, after checking my bank accounts, I called them back to take the offer, but the phone lines were temporarily busy.
Then, surprisingly, Frederick showed up.
Fred is a Swedish guy who I met previously during my final days in Phoenix, and coincidentally has been staying at the same hostels as me, but just a few days behind.
Like me, Fred also wanted to go to the Grand Canyon, but unlike me, Fred had a car, and no intention of paying a tour company to take him somewhere he was perfectly capable to getting to himself.
So that was my problem solved!
Eager to see the sights, Fred took off for Sedona, whilst I spent a couple of hours sitting out by the front door, listening to music, updating the blog and chatting to Joel about a man who has raised thousands of pounds for a Potato Salad party. That shit cray.
It was a lovely relaxing morning, but I eventually decided that I should probably do something with my day.
That was a very poor decision.
Heading out for a walk, I headed to Thorpe Park, which unfortunately had a lot less roller coasters than its namesake in Britain. However, what with it being monsoon season here in Arizona, I noticed the black clouds creeping over the park and took a hasty retreat.
Unfortunately, I can’t out-walk the weather, and was soon caught in the downpour. Taking shelter in Diablo, a recommended burger restaurant in town, I found many other people had had a similar idea, as the little diner quickly filled up with a host of drenched consumers.
Later, I tried and failed to find a male hairdresser that was open, before recommitting myself to lounging around and watching Arrested Development with Johnny.
It was a bit of a waste of a day if I’m honest, and I definitely enjoyed the morning more than the afternoon.
It was basically the winding down period of my holiday; the time has come. One more day, and then I’m headed home. Back to Wales.
I suppose my whole time in Flagstaff has been leading up to heading home. Everything here has been quite similar to my life in Wales; small town life; increased drinking; laziness; poor weather.
I think the most depressing thing now is once more trying to find a job in Ruthin. Without a car, and with me being a month behind every other returning university student, my opportunities will probably be pretty slim.
On top of that, I’m meant to be heading down to London and perhaps even Amsterdam later this summer. Both are going to be difficult when I’m about £1000 in debt.
Perhaps I’ll be moving back to Leicester to find a job sooner than expected.
Still, one more day before I have to worry about all that. Better make it a good one!
Grand Canyon, here I come!