And here is where my explanation of my trip to Arizona ceases to be organized and chronological and instead becomes a splendid jumble of adventure and friendship. Those who keep up will be rewarded with a virtual high five. We’ll both believe in our hearts that it happened.
The day after our trip to the Grand Canyon, we ventured into downtown Flagstaff and spent the morning exploring the town. It was quaint in the most perfect sense of the word: whimsical boutiques, a thrift shop where I found a cutting board covered in song birds for a 75 cents and a garlic keeper for a quarter, a discount outdoor outfitter, plenty of shops with a phenomenal selection of native American jewelry, and tons of quirky eateries. Like our breakfast spot pictured above, Biff’s Bagels. Literally all the locals we talked to directed us to Biff’s. And once we got there, the reason why was obvious. They had a great selection of bagel flavors and an even greater cream cheese menu (when Nutella is a flavor option, the only logical conclusion is that this is your luckiest day). Perhaps we would have left the joint just satisfied or mildly enthused except that the walls are covered in pictures of dead dogs.
Yeah. All those are photos of customers’ deceased pets. This is actually a beloved-dog memorial masquerading as a bagel shop. And only dogs can be enshrined—the employee we talked to spoke with derision about patrons who came in asking to post pictures of their cats. Those fools. Obviously cats are only to be immortalized in biscotti bakeries. Sheesh.
Pictured here is what I’ve been told is referred to as a “pizookie”. I was skeptical despite the quality of my information source until a Google search recovered this. I found the second comment to be particularly helpful. I think this may be a Western term. Your people call it “pizookie”. My people call it a cookie with ice cream. A pile of warm cookie and creamy vanilla mush by any name is always delicious. We ate these every night of our stay in Flagstaff. Obviously it was a week of excellent decisions.
The rest of the week was spent exploring Phoenix. Per the suggestion of “The Hipster Travel Guide to Phoenix”, we stopped by The Lost Leaf for a concert and FilmBar for a movie. Approximately 50 percent of these ventures were successful: the band never showed at The Lost Leaf (so we hit up the Uptown Alley for an evening of arcade games, the spoils of which included two Tootsie Rolls and a glow stick) and we saw an excellent documentary at FilmBar about back-up singers. Seriously fantastic. I plan on buying it if it ever comes out on DVD. It made us want to listen to nothing but Motown and classic rock for the rest of the week.
We had dinner together at Bee’s very favorite Mexican restaurant, La Perla. We left with happy bellies full of chips and salsa and Mexican-style omelets. Apparently this fiesta banner is always up. Which is perfect because it’s always a fiesta when Bee and I are together.
We made a stop by the New York West Bakery for some tasty pastries that allowed us to relive that time we ate our way through Europe together. As per usual, I couldn’t make up my mind and was forced to try the raspberry cigar and the almond puff pastry. Tragically, they had sold out of their famous Danishes by the time we arrived. It was 11am. Apparently though their sign says they open at 5am, they usually open the doors at 4:30 since there’s already a line forming. With a selection like theirs, I’m not surprised. I’ve never seen anything like it in the US. Definitely worth a visit if you’re ever in the area and awake at four in the morning.
On my last day in town, Bee and I went to Lake Pleasant with some of her friends from church. We spent the day tubing and wakeboarding. If you had asked me to make a list of things I never though would happen during my trip to Arizona, this probably would have made the list. I’m a Michigan girl—I’m no stranger to lakes or boats or tubing. But tubing while watching cacti speed by? Apparently there’s a first time for everything.
The day after our trip to the Grand Canyon, we ventured into downtown Flagstaff and spent the morning exploring the town. It was quaint in the most perfect sense of the word: whimsical boutiques, a thrift shop where I found a cutting board covered in song birds for a 75 cents and a garlic keeper for a quarter, a discount outdoor outfitter, plenty of shops with a phenomenal selection of native American jewelry, and tons of quirky eateries. Like our breakfast spot pictured above, Biff’s Bagels. Literally all the locals we talked to directed us to Biff’s. And once we got there, the reason why was obvious. They had a great selection of bagel flavors and an even greater cream cheese menu (when Nutella is a flavor option, the only logical conclusion is that this is your luckiest day). Perhaps we would have left the joint just satisfied or mildly enthused except that the walls are covered in pictures of dead dogs.
Yeah. All those are photos of customers’ deceased pets. This is actually a beloved-dog memorial masquerading as a bagel shop. And only dogs can be enshrined—the employee we talked to spoke with derision about patrons who came in asking to post pictures of their cats. Those fools. Obviously cats are only to be immortalized in biscotti bakeries. Sheesh.
Pictured here is what I’ve been told is referred to as a “pizookie”. I was skeptical despite the quality of my information source until a Google search recovered this. I found the second comment to be particularly helpful. I think this may be a Western term. Your people call it “pizookie”. My people call it a cookie with ice cream. A pile of warm cookie and creamy vanilla mush by any name is always delicious. We ate these every night of our stay in Flagstaff. Obviously it was a week of excellent decisions.
The rest of the week was spent exploring Phoenix. Per the suggestion of “The Hipster Travel Guide to Phoenix”, we stopped by The Lost Leaf for a concert and FilmBar for a movie. Approximately 50 percent of these ventures were successful: the band never showed at The Lost Leaf (so we hit up the Uptown Alley for an evening of arcade games, the spoils of which included two Tootsie Rolls and a glow stick) and we saw an excellent documentary at FilmBar about back-up singers. Seriously fantastic. I plan on buying it if it ever comes out on DVD. It made us want to listen to nothing but Motown and classic rock for the rest of the week.
We had dinner together at Bee’s very favorite Mexican restaurant, La Perla. We left with happy bellies full of chips and salsa and Mexican-style omelets. Apparently this fiesta banner is always up. Which is perfect because it’s always a fiesta when Bee and I are together.
We made a stop by the New York West Bakery for some tasty pastries that allowed us to relive that time we ate our way through Europe together. As per usual, I couldn’t make up my mind and was forced to try the raspberry cigar and the almond puff pastry. Tragically, they had sold out of their famous Danishes by the time we arrived. It was 11am. Apparently though their sign says they open at 5am, they usually open the doors at 4:30 since there’s already a line forming. With a selection like theirs, I’m not surprised. I’ve never seen anything like it in the US. Definitely worth a visit if you’re ever in the area and awake at four in the morning.
On my last day in town, Bee and I went to Lake Pleasant with some of her friends from church. We spent the day tubing and wakeboarding. If you had asked me to make a list of things I never though would happen during my trip to Arizona, this probably would have made the list. I’m a Michigan girl—I’m no stranger to lakes or boats or tubing. But tubing while watching cacti speed by? Apparently there’s a first time for everything.
Though there’s no photographic evidence of this event, it’s worth noting that one of my nights in town was spent on a date with a Mormon guy. This date included a performance of Oliver! the musical at a theater in an unmarked store front of a strip mall. Oh, unmarked except for the 8.5 x 11 sheet of printer paper taped to the window with “Don Bluth’s Front Row Theatre” written on it in permanent marker. The plot of said performance was censored, presumably to increase its family-friendliness: Nancy lives, Bill is shot, end show. Anyone familiar with the musical will understand the befuddled look on my face when the lights came up.
The evening ended with a hike up a hill at a resort in a maxi dress and sandals to get a view of the city at night. Though the three persons accompanying me on this trek were all Phoenix residents, I don’t think we ever came to a conclusion about what exactly we were looking at. I tried to be helpful and pointed out the North star. My “North star” was actually an airplane. I may never know what I saw from the top of that hill.
In conclusion, I’d like to pay tribute to dear friend I never had the pleasure of meeting while the zest of life still grew on his branches. This is the lemon tree in Bee’s backyard. For my birthday, she sent me the finest of packages which included three lemons from her very own lemon tree. I used them to make the most wonderful lemonade. I remember telling my dad I was excited to meet the tree whose fruit I had so greatly enjoyed from 2,000 miles away. Upon my arrival, I found out that the tree had died literally overnight about a week after she sent me those lemons, as if it couldn’t bear the thought of its children being that far from home. It’s bizarrely poetic. But mostly just bizarre.
Here ends my exposition of the events of the Arizona adventure. I couldn’t have dreamt up a better way to end the summer. Bee, as always, you have my heart and you da best. Can’t wait to adventure with you again. Great Lakes tour next summer?
And in the spirit of celebrating adventures, explore something new today. It’ll be exciting, I promise.
Happy Monday.
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