“If you could be an animal, which one would you choose?” Mitra asked as we were on the way.

“Vin Diesel asked me that at a party,” Melika replied.

There was silence in the car as we considered this information. [Nazy: This is great, Melika knows someone in the famous German Engine Family; I wonder if he’s involved in the railroad subsidiary? Dan: What kind of a name is Vin Diesel? Who is this guy? Mitra: Does he know how to Tango? Darius: Great action movies, Mel.] The diversity of opinions led to (unusual) silence.

The Canyon was truly Grand. We enjoyed the vistas and marveled at the giant hole created by simple erosion applied over a million-year timeframe. I learned, much to my dismay that erosion can be caused by wind as well as water. Powerful winds can, in fact, detach a hat from the most stubborn of heads. So, the protector of my sensitive, easily sunburned skull, was blown into the canyon. It was a catastrophe.

Well, ‘catastrophe’ may be a small overstatement. Perhaps ‘disaster’ is better at capturing the magnitude of the calamity. Naturally, I reacted like a mature adult.

“Nazy! Why did you do that? That was my favourite hat and you let the wind..”

“I let wind … do what, Dan?”

“Well, now it’s gone forever. I’ll never be able to find a hat like that in Switzerland.”

“You’ll never wear a hat like that in Switzerland. That’s a western hat. It goes with cowboy boots… ah, I see your problem.”

“Well, we can probably buy another one before my skull turns red.”

“We could go down and get it.”

“Go and get it? Go and get it? Are you out of your mind? This is a National Park. You can’t just climb over the wall and repel into the gorge.”

“You certainly, can’t, Dan. But perhaps I can talk a park ranger into..”

“Nazy, my dear, I am absolutely sure that park rangers don’t ….”

[In fact, park rangers don’t – if I ask them. It’s a different story when Nazy makes the entreaty. In point of fact, a canyon employee retrieved the hat that went on to survive extensive security checks at the Los Angeles, Minneapolis and Boston airports as I made my way back to Europe. In Boston, it even was ‘swabbed’ and ‘wanded’ before security experts deemed it safe for air transport.]

Staying at a B&B in Sedona, we decided that it would be smart to see the (famous) red rock country. Naturally, this idea was greeted with overwhelming enthusiasm. Darius, in particular, was excited.

“Rocks, Dad? This is a vacation – not a geological expedition. We saw erosion yesterday and..”

“There was nothing geological about Las Vegas, Darius.” I replied.

“Las Vegas was simply applied game theory. More academics. I want to do something manly.”

“Manly? You’re on vacation with your mother and your sisters.”

“We’re in the Wild West, Dad. Can’t we go horseback riding?”

“You are allergic to horses, Dar.”

“Just find something … appropriate.”

“Well, Darius, you’ll be happy to know that your Mom and I made an appropriate selection.”

“Pink Jeeps, Dad? You call that appropriate?”

As soon as we arrived at the pick-up point, Darius worked to corner our guide. His dismay increased when he discovered that ours was named ‘Harold’ rather than ‘Duke’ or ‘Hopalong’. Undaunted, Darius began, as usual, by asking questions.

“Do you take that ‘jeep’ off-road?”

“We’ll travel on a secondary road. You won’t be disappointed.”

“I’m already disappointed.” Darius thought.

As soon as we turned into the park it became clear (even to Darius) that the Arizona definition of ‘secondary road’ was rather broad. In New Hampshire, our path would have been called an nthdary road; in Switzerland, it would have been a hiking trail.

The area was beautiful. In fact, except for the heat, the lack of an ocean and the isolated location, Arizona was beginning to look like a great place to retire – until Harold told us about the poisonous snakes, venomous insects and dangerous plants.

“Dangerous plants, Harold? Really?”

“Well, those cactus have thorns and barbs. One of my clients tripped over that particular plant and we had to cut him out. It took 73 stitches to repair…”

“… his blue jeans, Harold?”

“It was really painful. You must be careful.”

“I will walk carefully.”

“Be vigilant. That’s my favourite dirt.”

“Your favourite dirt?”

“Yes. See that black crust. Those are lichens. It takes decades to form that crust and a clumsy tourist can ruin it in seconds.”

“I expect, Harold, that a deranged grizzly bear can do equal damage – even faster.”

Mitra interrupted with a helpful observation. “This area is beautiful, Dad. A little remote, but beautiful nonetheless. It makes me feel like..”

“.. like dancing, Mitra?”

“How did you know?”

“It’s one of the tricks of fatherhood, my dear.”

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