Rain.

A product of the condensation of atmospheric water vapor.

I haven’t seen this stuff in over two months. And today—as I type—a light drizzle is glazing downtown Tucson, Arizona.

Our reunification isn’t a particularly welcome one, but given the surprising intensity of Tucson’s October desert heat, I’m happy to let a stormy day slide. I consider this a humbling experience, hailing from 1000ml-Per-Year New Zealand, and all.

Tucson—it sounds cool simply saying it, no matter which way you slice it. TOOS-on. TOO-sahn. TOO-sawn.

Jackie Onassis said / that it ain’t safe for Catholics yet. Tucson, Arizona.

Now I’ll talk Tucson a little later, but first, I want to bring you up to speed.

So far I’ve been here for three nights—by myself—as part of a solo expedition to reach my non-refundable Toronto-bound flight (which departs Dallas, Texas in a little over two weeks).

I’m dividing said two weeks equally between Tucson, Arizona and Austin, Texas.

As James noted, I flew out of San Diego last Friday, via a stopover in Salt Lake City, Utah. If you check a map, you’ll see that’s not the most direct of routes to Tucson, but I saw it at as a chance to stand in another state (nine and counting!) and admire some alluring panoramas.

I enjoyed the (comparatively generous) complimentary airline food that U.S. carriers provide on short commuter journeys, and got into Tucson at about 10pm. The first thing I noticed was the surprising warmth given the time of night. The second thing I noticed was that my shuttle driver looked, sounded and behaved like Basil Fawlty.

We had a few problems (essentially him not knowing where my hostel or its street was, whilst attempting to give the allusion that he did) but managed to find my bed for the night.

Adobe home. Downtown Tucson, Arizona.

In San Diego James, Lauren and myself had split our nights between the two best and worst hostels that we’d stayed at in the U.S.A. My Tucson digs are probably somewhere in between—a simple and mature adobe cottage that appears to be run under-the-table by an assemblage of itinerant Americans who mostly resemble the members of Modest Mouse.

The showers are cold, the free waffles warm.

I can live with that.

Rumour has it that John Dillinger once stayed here. (The trendy Hotel Congress two blocks up is where his gang got busted. Indie-dance-punk band !!! played there Saturday night.)

The hostel is mostly empty, bar a few elderly gentlemen (who also may or may not be running from the law) and recurring visitors that don’t seem to actually sleep here, but just like to hang out.

***

Now it’s been a little different travelling on my own—after being in close quarters with James and Lauren for two months. (Lauren was an astounding jack-of-all-trades by the way, taking care of most destination choices, driving, navigating, sightseeing, dining and accommodation organising. Much respect.) But I’m enjoying meeting new people, planning my days and walking long distances in solitary confinement.

There’s something rewarding about accomplishing things alone in a foreign and intimidating environment. (There’s nothing like nailing public transport etiquettes to boost your confidence.) I’m even cooking at the hostel in an effort to trim overheads (and reverse the plunge that my diet took about five weeks ago—dang dairy overdose).

But anyway, Tucson. I’m in Tucson. Why did I decide to go to Tucson? I guess I really wanted to see Arizona (I’m a huge cacti fan, and although the Wellington Botanic’s Succulent Garden is admirable, it’s just not the real thing) and Tucson has the better repute of the AZ cities. (You know, it’s the smaller, cultural, hipper city that everyone trendy and stuck-up favours—it’s Wellington to Phoenix’s Auckland.)

And I think made a fine choice.

Jonathan on a city walkway, Tucson, Arizona.

It is pretty small. A lot smaller than I expected. On Saturday I walked around a deserted downtown (just myself, some iffy teenagers and a smattering of homeless people), but I’ve come to realise that this is pretty standard in suburban modern-day U.S.A.. Downtown is merely for the suited, the destitute and those willing to explore it a little.

The whole feel of Tucson is laid back and dilapidated. It might have three high-rise buildings, but it hardly feels bigger than a town like Turangi and it’s mostly manageable by foot. The minor mountain ranges of Saguaro National Park seem to completely surround the city, comfortably encapsulating its middle-of-the desert location on alluvial plains.

Given its history as part of Mexico (and close proximity to the current-day border) it still has a huge Spanish influence, and over 20 per cent of the population are Hispanic. Pastel coloured adobe buildings are pretty commonplace.

***

So on Saturday I got a little architectural, exploring neighbourhoods that appear shanty-like, but in actuality are run-of-the-mill historic, lazy Tucson homes.

Yesterday I got a little cultural and a little edifying, exploring the University of Arizona campus, including The Center for Creative Photography (one of the better photography museums in the country), the Historical Society Museum, the indigenous peoples exhibit at the Arizona State Museum and the striking University of Arizona Museum of Art.

In totality, I was completely overwhelmed by the beauty of the campus and the facilities offered. (When there’s blocks of shops on campus including an American Apparel, I’m going to be impressed.)

Copy that. Tucson, Arizona.

I checked out the athletic area of the campus (which on its own, is about as big as most New Zealand universities). UofA is a basketball college first—the Wildcats have made 23 straight N.C.A.A. appearances while a handful of its alumni have gone on to successful N.B.A. careers—but I’m here during football season. And boy does the school get behind their ‘Cats. Even the back-up practice field (let alone the towering stadium) puts Victoria’s rugby paddock to shame.

The abundance of amenities and university culture made me regret never exchanging with a foreign university while I was at school. UofA enrols about 35,000 students and is considered a “public Ivy”, but I get the feeling that most universities in this country are of a standard unfamiliar to New Zealand.

I suppose you get what you pay for.

***

Tomorrow, I’m heading out of town. I seem to have cracked a deal with a middle-aged (loudly snoring) Frenchman who has rented a car. I’m going to flick him some gas money in exchange for inclusion on a few desert excursions. We’re looking at historic cowboy towns and non-earth biospheres.

Huh? More on that next time.

(Note: over these next two weeks I’ll probably be posting an entry every-four-days, as I try to cover all my tricks while they’re still relevant. Hopefully James can squeeze a post in between each of mine from Grass Valley, but if not, don’t be confused when the tit-for-tat format becomes tit-for-tit-for-tat.)

Posted by Jonathan

Tags: Art, Sports, Tucson, University of Arizona