New York City to Arizona

As is often the case – in fact it may always be so – opportunity presents itself at the most unexpected times. In this case, 5 days into my holiday, I was made redundant. Admittedly, it wasn’t completely unexpected (we knew changes were afoot, and in total, 30 of us got the boot), but it still requires some thought. As said, it wasn’t a surprise, but what I was surprised at was how much thought I had to give it. It was a weird thing to happen while I was on holiday, and as it was immediate, it meant that I had – in effect – nothing to go home for. Ah ha. Opportunity.

I’m on a flight to Phoenix, Arizona right now. That was always meant to be the case. 8 days in New York City, and then a week – for me alone – in Arizona (if you’re wondering why Arizona, I’ll get to that in a bit). The 8 days in New York were spectacular. Thilde had never been before, and although I’ve been twice before, the last time was in 1999. A lot has changed, and not just the city. I’m a completely different person than I was at 21, and as such, my wants for the city had changed radically. I really did consider this a second first time for myself. We stayed in the Lower East Side, and covered a huge amount of the city. Every day started early, and finished pretty early too, thanks to the double-digits of kilometers we covered on foot every day. I’ll admit that 8 days was just enough for me. Sure I could have stayed longer, but while I loved the city and its diversity, its beat and its life, it reminded me of why I moved out of London. Sprawling cities just drain me. So as we moved our way back to our flat to pick up our bags, I was elated to know that I had a week in the beautiful state of Arizona to look forward to. Although, now, it wasn’t just a week, it was two.

When I received the email letting me know that I was one of the 30 to go, Thilde, the wonder she is, said that I should stay in the US for longer. At first I dismissed the idea, but then, the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. When would I get a chance like this again? I’m already here – or there – so why not? Delta wanted over $4000 to change my flight, but booking an entirely new journey (with a different airline) – return from Copenhagen to Phoenix – proved to be vastly cheaper. So I did it. Two weeks. Just me and the road.

So why Arizona? Most people asked why when I told them about our summer holiday plans, and I understand. I’ve no idea about exact numbers, but I’m willing to bet the majority of visitors to Arizona pop in to see The Grand Canyon and then pop back out again, and what a shame that is. I’ve not covered all of the state, and I won’t do this time either, but I’ve seen enough each time I’ve been to leave me wanting more. I first visited when I was around 13, again when I was 14, once more at 21, and again last year, at 34. The trip that made the biggest impression on me was when I was 14. I don’t know why, but something about it just hooked me. The colours, the vastness, the heat, the feel of the air and the sounds of the desert – all so very foreign to a girl born and bred in the English countryside, but all so oddly comforting at the same time. 

The later trips, while deserving of pages themselves, only cemented the want to return. So here I am. On my way back, but this time alone. It’ll give me time to see the things I want to see, to stop and stare at the things I want to stare at, when I want to stare at them. It’ll help me get it out of my system, and help me get some perspective on things.

We’re currently flying over and between two storm cells. If I wasn’t the nervous flyer that I am, I’d be thrilled. I’m sure in hindsight I’ll think it was brilliant, and it is brilliantly beautiful, I have to admit. If only I was at the window seat I’d take some photos.

It’s hot in Arizona. I’ve got about 2000 miles, or 3000 km, to cover. I’ve gone through all my back issues of Arizona Highways (yes, I'm a subscriber) and made lists of things I want to see and do. I’ve noted down the ghost towns and old mines along my route. I’ve been waiting for this trip for a really long time, and I’m just about to get started.

I’ll admit I’m a bit nervous, but the excitement far, far outweighs it. Thank God for redundancy. 

Entering Arizona in 1999Oh, a side note is that it's Labor Day Weekend here. I have no idea what that is, but I'm sure I'll find out. Something tells me I can't wear white after it. I might rebel. I am, after all, British. 

Arizona 2013

In a very short time I'll be fulfilling a childhood dream. Literally. I'll be spending a week (OK, in my childhood dream it was more like a few months, and by childhood I mean I was 14, but still...) driving around Arizona. Below is my approximate route. Some roads aren't marked on Google Maps, and one is currently closed (damn you 89!), so there's a bit of a detour. I'm going to blog at the end of every day, explaining why Arizona, what I see, where I go and no doubt including a few photos as well, so you're welcome to tag along if you want. 

I'm so excited I can't begin to describe it. 

Why I'm Not Convinced A Boycott Of The Winter Olympics Is Right

Unless you live under a rock, you've heard all about the incredible homophobic views and stories coming out of Russia. Like many, my initial gut reaction was to boycott. I was, and am, shocked and disgusted at the daily stories (which are nothing new) coming out from the country, and at the incredibly backward political views we're hearing about. But the more I think about it, the more I'm not convinced that a boycott is the right thing to do. 

Today, I read Stephen Fry's open letter to David Cameron and the IOC, a super letter, as can really only be expected from the genius that he is. In it, he says, ""All that is needed for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing," so wrote Edmund Burke. Are you, the men and women of the IOC going to be those “good” who allow evil to triumph?" I can't help but think that boycotting is doing nothing. I can't help but think there is a far better way to act, to show that we won't sit still and let a few pigheaded people decide where we can go and what we can do.

I'm just not convinced. There are two main reasons why, and I'll try to put them as plainly as possible here. 

The Berlin Summer Olympics in 1936 took place under Nazi oppression. Hitler was persecuting Jews, gays, blacks - we all know the story. He saw the event as an ideal opportunity to promote his government and ideals of racial supremacy, and as a result of this and the horrific crimes going on, many countries sought to boycott the games. Some athletes did boycott it, but no countries did entirely. But how wonderful, how very wonderful must it have been to see Jesse Owens stand on the podium, not once, but four times - all gold - in the heart of Nazi Germany? Black people, while not as persecuted as Jews, were hardly Hitler's favourites, and they suffered mindless persecution and execution as an 'inferior race'. I get goosebumps when I think of how proud and strong he must have felt. How immensely satisfying it must have been to watch knowing that right at that moment, hundreds and thousands of Nazis must have been speechless, and hundreds and thousands of black people - anyone other than the Nazis - must have had hearts that soared. The pride must have been overwhelming. 

The other reason is, or rather are, all the LGTB people in Russia. If the shoe was on the other foot, I know that I'd be desperate for the games to go ahead. I'd be desperate for other countries to come and show that they care, that they haven't deserted me, that the disgusting ideals of some idiotic politicians won't stop other nations showing how strong we are, how defiant we are, and how proud we are. I would be hoping and praying that the rest of the world marched proudly in to Russia and participated as, and in support of, the out and proud LGTB community that we are so proud to say we are. 

I don't mean to imply that athletes will be coming out of the closet by the dozen and storming the podium, it's just that I can't help but think how wonderful it would be to see hundreds of athletes, no matter what their sexual orientation, from the moment they arrive in Russia to the moment they leave, wear a rainbow flag on their clothes, painted on their faces, waving in their hands. How powerful it would be to see them stride into Sochi Stadium, waving their country's flag, and a flag - rainbow or other - that represented their support of the LGTB community. I can't imagine anything - even a boycott - that would send such a powerful and supportive message.

Why are we talking about walking away? Why aren't we standing and fighting? Why let these archaic, petty people twist how we act? If I were an athlete, I would gay it up. Really gay it up. I would go. I would be the proudest I'd ever been for being myself. I would do my best and maybe even win, and when I did, I would stand on that podium and know that those idiot people would be boiling inside. And maybe, hopefully, I would let someone in Russia know that not only is it OK to be gay, but that we will always stand together against abuse and hatred.  

By boycotting are we walking away? Are we turning our backs? What effect would it really have on the country? Would they actually have won?

I'm wide open for discussion.