Antelope Canyon is a guided tour done by the local Navajo. It’s a VERY bumpy ride getting there and a bit pricey at thirty something dollars a head but let me tell you… it was worth all this and more. This time I got to actually walk into the belly of the scenery I was admiring. Here was a brilliant red crevice in the rock, worn away in fantastic swooshes by sand, wind, and flood water. With every swirl you could see something even more profound.
It was a very short tour, if one were to just walk through it paying no attention it’d take maybe five minutes, but this would be a waste. I’ve never heard of Antelope Canyon but apparently others had. I shared my tour with a couple Australians and a number of French. One of the little French women attempted asking if I could take her and her boyfriend’s photo. This was done mostly through sign language since my French is pretty much gone (one of my few educational regrets…) I love the French. I love their stubborn insistence not to learn anything other than French. I have long since theorized the reasons French and Americans have such a hostile frenemy relationship is because we’re too alike. Go back to where you came from! BWAHAHAHA. Seriously though – French is such a beautiful language. I smile every time I hear it and am more than happy to snap a few tourist photos to have the privilege.
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