|Posted by Nikki Yeager on December 3, 2013 at 4:35 PM||comments (0)|
Every day in NYC I have to walk the two blocks from the subway to my apartment despite the winter weather. Snow, slush, rain, freezing winds.. all of the grossness that can hapen outdoors in December. But there's always been one miraculous ray of sunshine - the zoo on 116th street.
No matter how late it is, how tired I am or how miserable my day was, I always (ALWAYS) crack a huge smile when I cross 3rd Ave and 116th only to find multiple rows of miniature safari animals molded out of leather, lined up along the street. In the middle of the concrete sidewalk with cabs whizzing by and people hustling to and from their apartments, there's a little haven of animal-induced happiness.
Lions and tigers and bear, oh yes!
All the species are there and I love them. So when I ended up spending the bulk of this winter in Cleveland instead of NYC, my favorite person in the world sent me the best present ever. My husband boxed up a little piece of wildlife and sent me a cheetah.
He said the cheetah was made as an exact replica of my kitty-cat Mac, albeit an angry version of Mac. Sent through USPS from the rough and tumble zoo of Spanish Harlem to protect me in my suburban apartment.
A little piece of the sidewalk zoo that always makes me smile = the best ting anyone has every given me.
|Posted by Nikki Yeager on November 1, 2013 at 12:35 AM||comments (0)|
One last Halloween related post for the season: Sexy Stuff.
I like to think of myself as an extremely adventuresome person in all aspects of my life (you'll see what I'm hinting at in a second). However, I don't believe I have to wear my adventuresomeness in *those* areas on my sleeve... or, lack of sleeves.
I'll be the first to admit it, I've been called Amish (at my bachelorette party) and Jewish (pretty much every day) when people reference my typical uniform of thigh-to-knee length dresses all season long and cardigans/tights during cold weather. My butt cheeks are always respectibly covered and I think the trend towards sheer clothing last summer was downright absurd. If for no other reason, who pays more than a few dollars for a see through shirt/dress?!?! Seriously???
I know my views on clothing aren't for everyone. I realize I'm overly modest for a 20 something, fairly thin girl. Yea, my clothing can be considered sort of insane.
BUT I don't think I'm crazy when I say this: halloween does not have to be an excuse for nudity! Seriously guys, does anyone even know where a "sexy nurse" originated?!?! That's not a thing, people! And it's not punny or clever or creative. It's just .... "sexy". That's it. You get zero points for originality.
Which is why I thought it was hilarious when I told my office I was a crayon for Halloween (also not punny or original but, you know, not everyone can win at costume making). They immediately sent me this pic:
And I'd like to set the record straight, I was not that kind of crayon. Specifically because I would have gotten frost bitten - I'm living in Cleveland, guys! I was a crayon purely because it's cylindrical (like a human body in a slim fitting dress) and I'm lazy So for all of you who don't believe me, here's my proof. But ignore the poorly taken picture, my arms are only so long! You'll just have to imagine my awesome dunce-cap type crayon hat and bright blue tights.
Yea, not a sexy crayon. Just a boring ol' Blue Crayola.
|Posted by Nikki Yeager on October 31, 2013 at 11:05 AM||comments (0)|
Halloween in big cities makes me chuckle. Why? Because there's so much diversity and so many oddities to begin with, everything turns into a guessing game during the week of Oct 31st.
For example, I was riding a subway today in DC when a woman with a bucket full of old, wrinkled silk flowers, a blue cape and blurred black eye makeup boarded the same car as me. She came and sat down next to me so I spent the next 20 minutes playing "Crazy or Costume". She had the crazy factor considering I had no idea what she might have been and her makeup looked days old. However, the costume factor existed because her cape looked home-made, her flowers were neatly arranged and to be honest, she was really young to have already lost her mind. The verdict is still out, I never made up my mind.
Back to the wonderful land of New York City, I've seen both of these guys. Can you tell which is Crazy and which is Costume?
Well you're probably all wrong! It was a trick question - both of those guys are Union Square regulars. Which makes my point perfectly. How the heck can you tell the difference between NYC on a full moon and NYC on Halloween evening?
Besides the influx in scantily clad women, there's no telling. And to me, that's freaking hilarious.
|Posted by Nikki Yeager on August 26, 2013 at 4:25 PM||comments (0)|
Daniel and I rocked Honeyfund for wedding gifts (which means instead of requesting fondue pots, fancy china and sets of sheets, we asked for people to gift us honeymoon items for the wedding). That took a lot of stress out of the honeymoon itself considering so many items had already been paid for (thanks to all the people who made that possible!). That being said we still managed a reasonable budget day to day.
Which was difficult considering we typically manage our personal money separately and only use joint funds for joint expenses like rent, couches and date nights. So neither one of us ever sees every penny the other spends. It’s nice. I spend too much on lattes occasionally and Daniel has a weakness for 15 dollar sandwiches (Katz Deli. Always Katz.).
Anywho, we went about our first days in Kyiv without any money/budget problems. Until day three came.
We were walking along Khreshchatyk st., one of the main streets in Kyiv, when I saw something beautiful and white and fluffy. And I just had to touch it. Obviously.
So I ran up to the little white, curly tailed animal and started cooing in the bird’s face. It looked like an all white pigeon with a perm. A really nice perm.
I think I even complimented it on the beautifully done up tail. And it cooed back at me, appreciative of the compliment.
Next thing I knew the bird man was putting this bird on me along with its brother and sister. The whole family on my shoulders!
And as Daniel snapped pictures, another man descended on us from a dark ally and threw his birds on Daniel. Now we had a whole gaggle of birds on us and Daniel started talking to the guys in Russian.
And then talking to me in Russian.
See, he wasn’t the best translator and I wasn’t the best travel companion. He would speak to other people in Russian and then when he was supposed to be translating the words to English for me, he’d forget and start repeating the conversation back in Russian. I’d just stare at him until he realized I couldn’t understand and then we’d move on. That being said, I’ve learned a decent amount of Russian over the last few years but I relied on him completely during our trip for communication. I didn’t even try to understand what people were saying because it was so hard for me, and second nature to him.
This didn’t work in such a bird-y situation. Apparently Daniel told me not to pick up the birds – in Russian – and because I wasn’t communicating with anyone, I wasn’t paying the least bit attention to the situation. I was just paying attention to the birds.
Which cost us.
Literally. That five minute picture with the birds cost us about fifty USD. By far, the most expensive thing we did during our entire honeymoon.
Daniel immediately started arguing in Russian and I started saying “Don’t you dare pay them that!” to which he started shouting at ME in Russian (I still have no idea what he was saying). The first guy we happily paid considering we were the idiots who picked up his birds.
The second guy, he wanted just as much as the first guy and we never even spoke to him! He just threw his birds on us! The second guy was also the shady police-calling guy so even though he didn’t deserve it, he got his money in the end.
And we got a $50 picture of some birds.
|Posted by Nikki Yeager on August 25, 2013 at 4:15 PM||comments (0)|
Ukraine is a funny place. They have fancy cars everywhere, but no reported income to explain their existence. They have a huge percentage of outdoor cafes and eateries but freezing cold winters that would have to shut them down (I’m assuming?!). And the strangest thing is, they have internet everywhere (seriously, everywhere!), but they don’t use computers for anything.
For example, at the Odessa Opera House, where they don’t have an electronic ticketing system. Instead, they have a Soviet-era line system where everyone waits in line until at least three people die of starvation and/or boredom, and then you finally get to talk to a single lady in a single ticket booth. With over 1000 bundled, pre-printed tickets.
I kid you not.
This poor, 70 year old woman was sitting amidst piles of pre printed tickets for the next 2 months of shows. When you finally made it through the hour long line, she would rifle through her stacks and stacks of tickets to see if she had anything available in your price range. Need 2 seats together? Then she would look through each bundle starting with the cheapest until she found two seats next to one another.
And you never know what you’ll get. Maybe she’ll give you $10 tickets, or maybe there won’t be any side-by-side seats until she gets to the $100 floor seats. You never know. It’s like a terribly cruel lottery controlled by one bespectacled Ukrainian babushka.
Then, after you get your tickets that she found side-by-side, they may or may not actually be side by side. They may, in fact, be one behind the other.
Better yet, you may go up to your private booth and find your seats are not only one behind the other, but they really aren’t seats at all…. They’re foot stools!
On a wooden platform, so you can see over the heads of the strangers sharing your “private box”.
Which Daniel found strange…but I found downright hilarious.
And I giggled a little as I took my seat on my velvet footstool and enjoyed the Moscow Ballet’s version of Swan Lake… sitting on an ottoman.
|Posted by Nikki Yeager on August 24, 2013 at 9:00 AM||comments (0)|
History is a matter of perspective. Something I’m reminded of constantly while travelling.
A truth I came face to face with again while visiting a WWII memorial and museum in Kyiv, Ukraine.
The Iron Lady statue. Under the statue is the WWII museum.
Which shouldn’t have surprised me. I understand our history education in the United States is severely lacking (but I’m not going to lie, I would’ve ditched quite a few more classes if anyone tried to make me sit through a European History course in high school), but it still surprises me occasionally just how much I was never taught. Or even told about.
For example, did you know there was a whole war that happened. A war that the holocaust was just a small percentage of? A war that killed 20+ MILLION Soviets but only 400,00+ Americans?
Sure, we talk about concentration camps, but do you really know what happened in that war? Because I certainly don’t.
Anyways, it was really interesting to go the memorial in Kyiv because those war torn years still define the city and its population. Ukraine was a country under fire for many years. First absorbed by the Soviet Union, then invaded by Germany.
Boats in the Dniper used during the invasion of Kyiv by Nazi Germany in 1941.
Back to the Jewish aspect of the war - In Odessa, Ukraine the Jewish population was once over 40%. It’s now somewhere around 3.5%. But Jewish deaths weren’t the only deaths, and shouldn’t be the only ones we discuss.
A bone grinder.
Because Ukraine was part of the Soviet Union during that era, the museum covered the events of all previous Soviet territories.
For example, have you heard of the Siege of Leningrad? A 3 year time span when Germany blocked all access to and from the city of Leningrad (now St. Petersburg). The Russians, being Russians, refused to surrender and gave Germany a big middle finger. While nearly 700,000 people died of starvation, the city never gave in and the WWII museum had an entire display -- rightfully so! -- dedicated to the citizens of that city who held their ground even when it meant starvation, dehydration and death.
It just amazes me how ignorant I really am of what happened throughout history. So I’ll continue to travel and, hopefully, will continue to learn. Because even now I’ve only touched the surface of the sea.
Symbolic funeral table set for those who perished during WWII
|Posted by Nikki Yeager on August 22, 2013 at 8:20 PM||comments (0)|
I don’t know how we have so many divorces in the country. Because let me tell you, after that proposal, a relationship is in for a beating. A beating by a big, burly, 600 lb man with sweaty armpits and biceps the size of refrigerators. His name is The Wedding and he’s there to kick you in the balls. Repeatedly.
Congratulations. Now I’m going to grind both your genitals into pate.
Because The Wedding sits in your apartment, sleeps in your bed and rides the train with you to work in the morning. He crowds into the bathroom when one person has the stomach flu and the other is livid about a missed appointment with the caterer. He comes into the bedroom when it’s the second week in a row one person forgot to buy socks and the other’s body turns into the Siberian tundra. Seemingly frozen solid for the next million years. And then you think you’re free for a weekend in the country until The Wedding appears and shuts that sh*t down.
Because I’m an a$%hole.
Any couple who survives the wrath of The Wedding should be able to survive anything. Because after a year of attempting to wrestle him into submission and failing, it seems only the lucky ones will live to see that final day. The day when you get to collectively kick his big, smelly buttocks back into the depths of hell where he belongs.
And you sure have to muster a lot of love to get to the other side. A lot of love that must survive through a lot of anger, a lot of emotion and a lot of chilly nights.
Which is why I’m not sure how any couple who survives The Wedding doesn’t last forever.
|Posted by Nikki Yeager on April 29, 2013 at 4:35 PM||comments (0)|
I was at a tradeshow this weekend for my job and had the type of fun a person only has at a Texan tradeshow (keep in mind, this is the same state the blessed you all with my quadruple chin bull riding pic).
Anyways, this year was particularly entertaining because our booth was situated right across the aisle from a time machine.
Ok, maybe it’s not a time machine, but it is a teleporter.
But really, this key closet is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever seen. A normal digital key tracking system – which we were selling directly across the aisle - looks like this:
It’s small, can sit on a table and looks like it belongs in a building. The other one was human sized, shaped strangely like a robot and weird enough that people stopped to take pictures.
I can only imagine a situation where a building puts that key-closet next to their door.
Doorman: “Hold on Mr. Contractor, let me just step inside of my Key-Porter and get you that key…”
*presses buttons, lights flicker, beeping starts*
Doorman: “Ah, here we go”. Grabs a key as the machine flashes, whirs and pops.
The whole thing is just so ridiculous!
|Posted by Nikki Yeager on April 28, 2013 at 10:45 PM||comments (0)|
My hometown never ceases to amuse people. Every time Ohio pops up in the news, it’s always for something outlandish and wacky. Almost every month I have another New York friend forward me an article or fact about Ohio and it’s always related to something entirely inexplicable.
So in honor of my state, and because it’s oh so funny to talk about, I’m including some of the weirdest OH facts below.
1. We have a lovely river in Cleveland that runs for 89 miles from Lake Erie to sourthern Ohio. A great river for travel, industry and... fires.
Yes, you heard that right. Fires. On water.
Now, take a moment to really consider that. How much pollution does it take to ignite a river? Polluted enough that not a single fish could survive throughout the entire span from Akron to Cleveland in the 60s.
During that time, the river went up in flames not once, not twice, but THIRTEEN TIMES.
And to make matters worse, the Italian mafia had a penchant for throwing bodies attached to cinder blocks into the sludge filled flame channel during their hay day. Which basically made it the (somewhat) modern day River Styx. I actually knew someone whose father was a scuba diving police officer. His sole task was to dive into the Cuyahoga River by the Flats in downtown Cleveland and yank up dead bodies. Almost every dive he got at least one.
This is what hell - or Cleveland - looks like.
2. Up in Northeast Ohio we have regular outbreaks of wild animals. It’s like a spontaneous safari at least every several years. For example, when I was about 8 I went to a circus at Mentor High School and rode an elephant with several other girls. It was great, the elephant walked in circles, I pet her dry, gray skin, we pranced around in a high school gym...and then she ran away.
Apparently the elephant was scared by a clown right after the performance and took off running. She galloped through the suburbs, down the freeway and into a Big Lots parking lot where she was finally herded back into a handler’s truck.
Then, in 2012, 18 tigers, 17 lions, 6 black bears, 2 grizzly bears, 3 mountain lions, 2 wolves, and a baboon escaped from a backyard zoo in Zanesville and spent several nights terrifying local residents. That is, until they called in the hunters (we Ohio folk love us some hunting) and shot down every single escaped animal. It was a straight up slaughter.
3. Melon heads. ‘nuff said.
4. The last big news story I found in the NYT relating to Ohio was straight out of the weirdest-crimes book. A gang of at least 16 people went on the attack, cutting the beards and hair of Amish people in Ohio. How bored to you have to get of cow tipping and Wal-Mart trips before you think, “hey! Let’s go cut some Amish beards!”??.
Who does that?
People in Ohio. That’s who.
|Posted by Nikki Yeager on April 16, 2013 at 3:40 PM||comments (0)|
This year’s Gay Pride Parade in Miami left me feeling sort of… spotty.
And not because of the parade itself, that was amazing, but because of the sun. The hot, horrible, torturous, Miami sun. Despite the fact I know that I burn ever year the first time I take my winter skin outside, I still forgot to bring sunscreen along. So to prevent the terrible burn I got last year (the one that kept me from wearing pants for a week), I picked up some sunscreen before settling down for the parade.
Unfortunately, the only sunscreen in the entire Miami Beach area for under $100.00 was the stick-o-sunscreen stuff. Which basically looks like a big tube of chapstick but with SPF 50.
So I rubbed the stick all over my body in my best attempt to hide my sickly white skin from the blazing noon sun.
Alas, I did not succeed.
It seems that I need to learn Sunscreen 101. Or even Common Sense 101. Because the proof is in my sunburn: I cannot apply sunscreen to save my life. Apparently this is the method I used:
Which is similar to the method someone would use when applying a stick of sunscreen while riding a motorcycle. If they happened to be one-armed. And dodging a herd of angry buffalo.
So it looks like I’ll be using the purple sunscreen for a while until my loved ones agree that I’ve learned the mechanics of lotion application.
Which could take a while….
|Posted by Nikki Yeager on March 23, 2013 at 6:25 AM||comments (0)|
When I was in third grade I learned about the Panama canal. It was the first time someone taught me about the importance of another country's resources on the United States. And it stuck.
Over 15 years later, I finally saw the canal. And thanks to CouchSurfing, it was with a guy who works for a huge shipping company in Panama and knew absolutely everything about it (like, occasionally the little trains that pull the ships along get yanked into the water. Who knew!?).
Here are some more facts you might all enjoy about the canal:
- The French tried to build it first and failed miserably so the United States purchased the rights to the property. We ran the canal until 1999 and then gave it back to the country who owned it - Panama. Strangely, the people of Panama don't seem to hate Americans... which is suprising since we took the profit from their largest resource until just recently.
And they still use our dollar...
- According to one website it costs a ship $450,000 per passage if carrying 4,500 containers. That's half a million dollars for 48 miles of travel! My friend gave me a slightly higher estimate of $500,000 but at that price, what's an extra 50k?
That would be one expensive cruise!
- Depending on who you ask, it takes 6-12 hours to go through the entire canal.
I didn't even have the patience to watch one ship go completely through the Miraflores locks.
- 20,000 people died during the French construction of the canal.
Which is not surprising. Imagine building THAT before cars.
- And not about the canal, but I still found it interesting - Panama Hats are almost always made in Ecuador!!! And some sell for over 25K!
Sort of like how that Belgian company owns Anheuser-Busch.
|Posted by Nikki Yeager on March 22, 2013 at 4:20 PM||comments (0)|
A few weeks ago I was in Minneapolis, which is the only time I've been to Minnesota. As you'd expect, there were three feet of snow on the ground and it was absolutely freezing. But it was also strangely beautiful and impressively metropolitan. Most places I go in the world, I get cabin fever after a day because although I might go out a ton, I'm always inside. From a house, to a car, to a restaurant, to a car to a store. It's like all the small cities of the world are out to suffocate me.
But not Minneapolis. They have buses that run all night long and are reliable down to the minute. Huge buildings and expansive lakes. Within the city you can walk almost anywhere (which is really strange because I saw almost no one walking) and even the things that look far away on a map are usually only a 20 minute hike away. My kind of place.
So I walked from my hotel downtown to the Chain of Lakes. Yes, it's a literal chain of several lakes. And they are beautiful. I'm not sure if it's legal there but I'm pretty sure I saw someone ice fishing. Then I stopped at a bun shop that was so good I've fantasized about those warm, gooey cinnamon buns for 2 weeks now. I slowly meandered back to the Sculpture Garden (snowy and cold but still very cool to see) and then hopped on a bus to the Weisman art museum (free and really impressive).
My favorite sculpture, it made me giggle.
As amazing and varied as the city was, one thing stood out. There was no one around. On any bus I was one of 5 people and on the streets I was often alone. Maybe it's because it was during the day on a Sunday and everyone was either hungover or in church? Maybe it was because of the freezing cold weather....but I doubt that much. I'm pretty sure Minnesotans are made out of polar bear parts so they can't freeze to death in the winter.
I could come up with absolutely no explanation. It seemed that if there were so many things to do, there should be people around doing them.
Either way, I didn't let it bother me too much and just enjoyed having the entire Minneapolis landscape to myself. On the way to the airport I decided to make one last pitstop in order to say I saw all the major parts of the city.
And that's when I discovered where everyone was.
The Mall of America.
It was packed with people. Kids riding rides in the amusement park (yes, an amusement park in the mall), hundreds of college aged girls were doing yoga by the main entrance, people were wandering from store to store. I couldn't even see all the lego sculptures at Lego Land over the throngs of humans, stuffed around me.
Lego man protects his Lego Land from above.
And that's when I learned one more thing about the people of Minnesota, or at least the mall going ones. They are big.
See, the problem is that sometimes I forget what normal people are supposed to look like considering I'm nearly obese by New York standards (JK.... kind of....). We walk so much and there are so many models/actors/etc. that my perception of "average" is really messed up. So to see a bunch of people who are larger than average is shocking. I get confused and self conscious and weird.
Before leaving to catch my flight I grabbed a salad and chips & salsa from a Mexican place in the food court. While I was waiting for my food, a lady walked up to the register and sweetly explained:
Large lady: "I'm so sorry, I know this is weird. But can I have some water in this?"
Passes a 40oz styrofoam cup to the cashier.
Cashier: Looks at her blankly.
Large lady: Explaining with a hint of shame in her voice, "My friend's little girl won't drink soda, so we need to get her water. I'm so sorry..."
Cashier: Slowly took the cup and cautiously filled it up, seeming annoyed at the little girl's need for water.
The whole scene horrified me. In what world is it shameful to drink water (healthy) instead of soda (insanely unhealthy). I can just imagine the mom begging that little girl to drink soda at dinner time. "Honey, once you finish your soda you'll get desert." And then they sit at the table for hours waiting for the stubborn little girl to just finish her normal person beverage.
WHO DOES THAT?!?!?!
And that's when I made the mistake of looking around. It seemed everyone at the mall did.
Right then and there I threw out my chips and salsa and finished my salad. You can bet your butt I'll be working out every day until that image leaves my mind... which might not be for a very long time.
... on a side note. I think it might be that cinnamon bun shop. If I lived near that place, I'd be 400 lbs as well!
|Posted by Nikki Yeager on March 6, 2013 at 7:40 PM||comments (0)|
So I've been trying desperately to learn Russian. I'm determined to be able to speak to my future husband's family in their native language. And I'm also determined to put that stupid-monolingual American stereotype to rest. But it seems I actually AM a stupid, monolingual American.
Basically, when I try to speak Russian I sound like I have marbles in my mouth and only half a brain in my head. It's so bad, it's embarrassing. Seriously shameful how badly I butcher that lanugage.
And here's why I don't have ny hope for becoming fluent:
1. I sympathize with this lady. Which is why I write in unacceptable print letters. Just like a typewriter.
Yes, that's correct. I am a Russian typewriter, smudged ink and all.:
2. Hoteel, Hachew and Hoteem are all the same word (forgive my spelling, I haven't figured out how to convert Russian words to the Roman alphabet without totally butchering it). HOW IS THAT POSSIBLE?!?!?! Those are obviously different verbs, no?
3. Noun conjugation. Enough said.
There are 6 different cases for nouns. Which is why Russian people always look so serious. It takes a lot of thought just to explain "I am going to Moscow" vs. "I love Moscow" vs. "I'm in Moscow." Because Moscow would have a different ending in each sentence! Gah!
This guy knows what I'm talking about:
4. Lastly, Russian culture confuses the crap out of me. Women change their last names based on the fact they're female (my dad would be Mr. Yeager, I'd be Ms. YeagerA), middle names are some weird conglomerate of your father's name and some random endings (my middle name would be something like Davidina) and one of the first words I learned was "hello" which has 12 letters in it and a combination of four consonants in a row.
Oh, and there's this (really, watch the whole video):
|Posted by Nikki Yeager on February 17, 2013 at 9:25 PM||comments (0)|
I've been working on a bunch of art pieces lately, some more involved than the others. After getting about 10 pieces started, I've been moving forward with a bunch of collages because they involve a lot more color and very few strange attachments or expensive supplies. So here's one I finished this week (ignore the cell phone quality photography here)...
I made the collage first from found art (using cut outs from magazines on an 8x10" piece of paper), then blew it up, drew it and painted it. Now I just like looking at it
|Posted by Nikki Yeager on February 13, 2013 at 8:05 AM||comments (2)|
Last weekend I stopped in AZ after a quick work trip to LA (with my own money, for any co-workers who may read this ;). As some of you know, I've decided to try tacking on personal trips while travelling for work so eventually I'll be able to see all 50 states. Which will be nice considering how few people *cough*my fiance*cough* get to experience American outside of their own state.
So to AZ, and naturally, the Grand Canyon it was!
A Couchsurfer in the area invited me to stay with her and decided to take the drive up to the Grand Canyon as well. So we took off on our drive at a bleary eyed 7am and after a coffee pitstop - hallelujiah for caffeine! - made our way north from Gilbert, AZ (fun fact about the Gilbert - it's the largest "town" in the country) and sped towards one of the earth's greatest natural wonders.
Until we stopped moving. Because of a blizzard. In Arizona. While driving a car that weighed no more than 10 pounds. In the desert.
We were suddenly skating around on an ice plateau with several other cars and a single snowplow. A 2 hour trip turned into a four hour trek as we crawled inch by inch towards the park. My trusty Couchsurfing friend kept me entertained with hitchhiking stories (how awesome is that BTW?!?!? A hitchhiking girl who can make a 4 hour drive seem fun?? I adore her.) until we finally hit a clear patch. Pulling on to the direct road to the Grand Canyon National Park, we saw clear skies and, for the first time that day. And sun.
Back to a speedy pace the rest of the way until..... stopped. Right past the entrance gate the blizzard begain again. And that's when I realized I travelled across the country to view snow. Lots and lots of snow.
With a glimmer of hope still left, we got out for a "hike" which consisted of shivering baby steps towards a hopelessly invisible canyon. We leaned over the edge at Mather Point which is supposed to look like this:
And instead saw this:
So instead of viewing what should have been beautiful and grand, we played a quick little game of "spot the canyon".
And that. Is the Grand Canyon.