Venice 2010

I'm never going back.

















While I'm glad to have spent two nights in Venice this month, it's just not my scene.






















This image encapsulates everything I didn't like about Venice. The Bridge of Sighs is wrapped in a jewelry advertisement.

















A Lacoste billboard covers scalffolding in Piazza San Marco. There may be justifiable financial reasons for these decisions, but they symbolize a crass commercial sensibility that I find very unappealing.






















Venice is undeniably gorgeous.






















In fact, it's the most beautiful city I've encountered.

















A steep price tag is associated with the sights.

















Not only was my hotel exorbitantly priced, I sensed that I was constantly being cased by the establishment's staff. At least the swarming ants that appeared minutes after I tossed an apple core in a trash can didn't wear jackets and ties. Adding insult to injury- my room had pink light fixtures.

















Another of Venice's hazards is the daily influx of tourists from cruise ships. Get a load of that death star in the background. Perhaps the Venetians charged with dealing with the public are shockingly rude because they're forced to contend with the sorts of people who don't think twice about desecrating churches. I saw people spit gum on the floor and pose for "funny" pictures in confessionals at the glorious Basilica Cattedrale Patriachale di San Marco.

















I was relieved to discover that the city is relatively empty early in the morning and late at night.






















With no motor vehicles allowed, it's an ideal city for walking aimlessly and getting lost.






















I won't pretend that I experienced the "real" Venice. But I was attracted to this betting parlor.

















Proper restaurants were out of my price range. This market, however, offered the most delicious fruit I've tasted outside of Florida.


















Pre-election posters and political rallies were omnipresent. The conspicuous consumption I witnessed was so extreme that I didn't roll my eyes at communist party posters. I get it.

















I longed to hang out with these men but my Italian wasn't up to snuff.






















Arrivederci.

















(Original images by Hit Random.)

A Kansan In the Canyon (Fifth and Final Leg)

With the Grand Canyon conquered, I moved on to Petrified Forest National Park. The German man in the black jacket wanted to punch my lights out but I bonded with the enthusiastic tour guide.
















I'm a petroglyph geek.

















Is there life on Mars?

















They know how to write a headline in Arizona. And terrestrial radio provided hour after hour of outstanding entertainment on my return trip. Monitoring Navajo and Hopi radio proved fascinating. "Tradio" is never less than hilarious. The NCAA tournament had also begun.















As I sat in Albuquerque's rush hour traffic I realized that it's a place I could happily call home. Later in the trip, I discovered that Oklahoma City has almost completely caught up with Kansas City. They deserve their NBA team.















In a previous life I felt like I owned Amarillo. It's the site of many of my most rewarding professional triumphs. The thick fog that enveloped the city was appropriate. I mustn't live in the past.
















There's no place like home.

A Kansan In the Canyon (Fourth Leg)

The race was on. Would I make it to The Grand Canyon before sunset? I covered a lot of ground but succeeded in beating the clock.















It's truly breathtaking.















And it's surreal- everything seems almost too perfect.















The key to fully enjoying the experience is getting off the beaten path.















Perhaps the natural beauty brings out the best in people. Myself excluded, almost all of the park's visitors- the ratio was equal parts American, European and Japanese- are ridiculously kind and friendly. (I'll pretend my unfortunate encounter with a French-Canadian never happened.)

















The on-site hotels were out of my price range, but I was delighted to discover that some of the park's facilities- including this cafeteria- haven't been updated in decades. Hello 1972!
















Obligatory animal shot.






















Here's my dirty little secret: I often suspected that the whole thing is a fake. It might be a colossal trompe-l'oeil.

A Kansan In the Canyon (Third Leg)

I left Taos in style by crossing the dizzying Rio Grande Gorge Bridge. It's a perfect spot for jumping if you're so inclined.















I'm not a fan of Thomas Kinkade's kitsch, but driving across northern Arizona made me realize that the postcard-perfect pastoral scenes he often depicts actually exist.
















Where's my snowboard?















The constantly changing landscape of U.S. 64 is amazing.















This shot was taken within minutes of the previous two.















Ship Rock in the Navajo Nation is quite the landmark.















I wanted to cross Utah off my list. That's my excuse for visiting the miserable Four Corners tourist trap. It's a sad place. Still, that's 40 down, 10 to go...















Spectacular? Yes, but the best is yet to come.

A Kansan In the Canyon (Second Leg)

The real fun began in New Mexico.




















I took in the dinosaur tracks at Clayton Lake State Park.















Members of the anti-evolution set have attempted to rewrite the explanatory texts.















Had I known that the path around the rim at Capulin Volcano was covered with ice, I wouldn't have attempted the hike. Scary! The vistas, however, were worth the trouble.
















An inspection of The Vietnam Veterans Memorial State Park gave me much-needed perspective.
















Spending two nights in Taos was a mistake. I'd always wanted to experience the town. I reckoned it was an ideal match for my sensibilities. Maybe that was true twenty years ago. The place just irritates me now.






















With its crass tourist trappings, Taos is no more than a laughably pretentious version of Branson, Missouri. And there's a palpable tension in the air. While shopping for groceries at Albertson's, I witnessed open hostility between angry, disillusioned anarchists and Volvo-driving richies. It was an ugly scene.















Still, there's no denying Taos' gorgeous setting. Fun in the snow provided a welcome respite from rancorous humans.

A Kansan In the Canyon (First Leg)

2,772 miles.

That's the length of the road trip I just completed.

I'd hoped to visit a glamorous location like Berlin or Buenos Aires for spring break, but the global economic crisis nixed that dream. Still, my traveling jones must be sated.

A trek to the Grand Canyon was my fallback plan. Not bad, right?
















There's a catch. The quality of life in the Kansas City area is great until it's time to escape. We're surrounded by hundreds of miles of empty space. All that time behind the wheel made my head and back ache. Still, I enjoyed every mile once I learned to pop Aleve and Tylenol like candy.






















The trip began with an obligatory visit to kin in western Kansas. The state's back roads are the only way to go.
















I finally made it to Oklahoma. I drove through the state's panhandle at night. Staring at the stars was a mystical experience. I'd forgotten that the night sky seems three dimensional and eerily alive without the veil of urban lights.




















Restaurants and upscale hotels weren't an option. Food came from grocery stores and sleep was found at relatively inexpensive motels.