Insanity: riding the RC 390

Insanity..The Honda CBR whines, the Apache purrs, but the KTM;-The KTM RC 390 growls and roars: angrily, impatiently and mercilessly. The reason why I write so much about the sound is that it is a distinct one and takes a while to get used to. Initially it makes you believe that there are some cannons trying to make themselves heard in midst of rapid fire from Kalashnikovs and M16 carbines. Not a rattle, definitely not a whine, more close to roars from different members of the feline family at the same moment.

The instrument cluster seems rudimentary. Having said that, it would be criminal to not mention that the overall quality is top-notch and gives a rich feel. You mount the bike, and you know you have done so for a menacing ride. Certainly you are not out to buy onions and potatoes for the dwindling reserves at home. The posture is the blend of an off-roader and a street racer.

The engine growls when you open the throttle and as you release the clutch deftly, you are suddenly yanked a couple of yards ahead; as if propelled by a grenade explosion. The acceleration is barbaric. A first experience for the usual Indian bikers: suddenly migrating from a 'mileage kitna deti hai' to the mini-superbike league. You can hear the angry explosions in that engine pushing you to any speeds of your liking in fraction of seconds. The discs coupled with ABS brings you to the momentum of your liking in similar times as well. Certainly something that has been beyond the imagination of people who have experience with bikes ranging from 100-500CC. For the money you pay for this motorcycle, you get more than its worth when it comes to performance.

After riding the KTM, I was silent for a while. So silent that some people mistook me for Manmohan Singh. For after riding the evil orange machine, I was bothered by some menacing drum beaters in vicinity.. Later I realized that the noise was just the thumping of my heart. 

Such is the exhilaration associated with the RC390 experience. However; like a drug, it does wear off in time... I say so because I was quickly brought back to reality by the analytical conclusion of the brain when that thing called practicality comes into picture. A couple of places where certain questions rose:

1. Looks: Good lord! Why does it have to be only orange/black? Plus, devilish looks are fine, but does it actually look as expensive as it actually is? Why did they not make it different from its 200CC sibling? The dual headlamps and simple instrumentation remind me of the early 90s.

2. Ride quality: This is something debatable. Trust me, this is a machine bred for extreme performance. Ride quality was never the prominent things in its DNA. Yet, when I am to go for a long drive, would I still pick the KTM over a Honda? Nyope.. Also, I don't see the point of torturing my wife on that small seat.

3. Power delivery: Reiterating again- the power delivery is brutal. You get those bursts of power. Yet the delivery is not at all smooth. Its like whack! bang! boom! Explosions. Definitely not a Yamaha or a Honda which reminds you a rocket being launched in a scientifically smooth manner.

To conclude, the KTM is the best performance machine that your money can buy. But that said, it is still an expensive toy. One spending that kind of money may think of compromising on the brutal performance and go for the CBR250/300 just to get that 'big bike' experience and the more comfortable, suave and saner way of riding.  

Krabi: Day 3

Today, we decided to do justice to the spread at the buffet and spent most of the morning swimming and gorging thereafter. We set out for the Krabi town and after contemplating on visiting the snake show, we decided to head to the ‘tiger temple’. Treading through Krabi was the same feeling, with the peace and slow pace overwhelming us. We got to the airport road and started seeking directions. Now those who have faced problems with accent, they may concur with me that getting your point across is a bit difficult in the interiors of Thailand. Allow me to elaborate some of our conversations:

Desi me: Excuse me, Whaat ez tha way too Taaiggerr cave tempal?

Fuel station attendant: tempaaaa?? (with an expression of those priests of the rougher religions who blast their apprentice over the quality of tea served while overseeing human sacrifice)

Sure enough, I ran from here..

Desi me: Taigarr… Growl.. Roar..

Coffee shop owner: Swadikaaa(p)

Desi me: Taigarr cave tempall (hands folded) rroad?

Coffee shop owner: Have nott.. (giving an expression that you give when they drop an anvil on your head from the 5^th floor)

My wife was of little help in finding the way. She was floored by the coffee shop girl who according to her, defined cuteness and declared that she was in love. Finally, a stop at the Yamaha showroom did the trick.

Desi me: Taigarr tempal? Tiger cave temple.. Way?

Sales lady: tempoooou?????!!!

Desi me: Tiger cave.. Temple.. (almost to tears)?

Sales lady: Ahh.. Tigell tempooll..!!!

Desi me: yes yes!!!!!

Sales lady: Awww. You take light tuln….Then…

 

So we did get to the temple and here are the pictures to prove it. We did not trek to the mountain top which they say offers a good view as the sun was too much. After the temple, we headed to a Tesco store nearby and did some general shopping after a meal. From our basket, alcohol was hush-hushed and kept aside. Word of advice to other tourists- avoid buying liquor off the shelf at day-time as this is forbidden by Islamic laws of the land.

On our way back, we took a call to explore an unexplored waterfall. A good forty minutes drive off the highway, the Huay Tho waterfall in Khao Sok national park is a multi-tiered one offering a great view and a good opportunity for trekkers. 

Spending a great time trekking through the woods, we headed back to the… Sofitel pool of course..

Krabi: Day 2

We were up early and devoured the scrumptious breakfast buffet at Sofitel. While the island tours do offer a pick up from your hotel, we had chosen to drive down on our own to manage forty minutes of extra sleep.

Getting to the destination just in time, we hopped on to a shuttle that took us to the speedboat. The shuttle was the typical pimped up Thai van, which would obviously be used everyday primarily to ferry the criminal warlords or their consignments. And tourists: when it was idling for lack of its primary job. Pardon me, but I have a biased perception on vans: I grew up in a place where Omnis (Maruti vans as they were fondly called) were used mostly by kidnappers. It was quite a usual sight: a white Maruti van stopping next to a businessman or a businessman’s kid, gun toting gentlemen with their faces masked with handkerchiefs stepping out, grabbing the businessman/businessman’s kid, loading them in the van and driving away.

So sitting in this particular shiny silver Toyota Hiace van with 18 speakers, two screens with very dark windows was not a very comfortable affair for me. The chauffeur was clad in an orange shirt, green goggles and his associate was a ten year old kid in a similar attire whose head stuck out for most of the drive. I wonder if the little kid too had a gun. The environment was perfect to play the background track from Amitabh Bachchan’s Thai kidnapping flick:

Mamma told me..

Don’t be talkin’ to a stranger..

Don’t be talkin’ to a stranger..

Stranger is danger..

   

As we started the boat ride, the beautiful sea floored us. The beauty of the place was just beginning to reveal itself as the ‘karst’ rock formations in the sea grew more; and more magnificent. We reached the bamboo island in around forty minutes. The beach is wonderful here. The water is crystal blue and the sand is as fine as it can be. However, the wretched sun was burning us and reminiscing the pool back at the hotel we chose to limit our swimming time. We then set off for a snorkeling session and this was a lot of fun. As I mentioned, the water is wonderful. The fauna is beautiful and we did get to touch a few. We sailed on and covered the monkey island, some other over-hyped island and finally got to the Ph

i-Phi island. The tour operator had arranged for a buffet and by three in the afternoon, we were headed back. Sleep took its toll and most of the return journey was blank for both of us. I would not bother you with words when I describe Phi-Phi island as I believe that pictures can do good justice to the description.

 

Once on the shore, we had trouble communicating to the tour operator to arrange for a shuttle to the car park. The heat, the long wait and an approaching truck pushed us to the other side of the road where we hailed the truck and convinced the driver to give us a lift. After things were set, the fact that we are on a honeymoon confronted me. Sitting in a truck cabin on your honeymoon is certainly not on the top of ‘to-do things on your honeymoon’ list for most Indians. I checked Sona’s face. Sona directed a look in which excitement, surprise and reproof were so nicely blended that it was hard to say which one predominated. Upon further probing, I concluded that she was going to enjoy this and we leapt into the truck next to the driver.

We did get to the parking where we fetched our car (gaddi as they say in Pujabi) and headed to the pool of Sofitel. We did stop at a roadside place for a meal and I have to say- such eateries are not to be missed if you want to get the real flavor of the land. Moreover, even with a poor currency, you feel rich in the little eateries of this pretty nation.

At dinnertime, we were greeted by a beautiful thundershower and we spent the evening running from the rain- hopping through restaurants and pubs in Ao-Nang.

Krabi: Day 1

We were headed to Krabi at the end of the season. We were told that the sun would ensure we would be boiled eggs everytime we would step out during the day. However, we were jumping like kangaroos as soon as we landed. I doubt that in whole of Australia, where I am told this species is abounds, you would find creatures that dolted like the two of us did in Krabi.

For starters, we hired a Toyota Hilux pik-up truck right at the airport. The memories of homicidal dacoits of Bangkok who call themselves cab drivers was still fresh in our minds. So from now onwards, we were free! Totally on our own.. Besides the fact that the truck was the top model and the air-conditioned cabin was more than enough for the two of us and our luggage, it had a huge loading area in which we could load a couple of corpses or some devious smuggling consignments were we to reconsider our current professions.

Our celebratory mood never stopped once we lay our sights on the Toyota; right until we zoomed out of the airport and were confronted with a great problem. Which way?

Then the challenges started compounding: We had decided not to hire the GPS from the rental company. Our phones were dead. And we knew no Thai.

Well; we had a truck with a full tank and historically, the two of us have these numb nerves. Which means our responses may be sluggish in general talk, but the good part about this impairment is that even an earthquake cannot make us panic. So, we marched on and after certain guess-work, route queries (in an opera like tone accompanied with a lot of enactment of our pronunciations), we did get to our destination in double the estimated time.

The drive through the place is a visual treat. Empty winding roads marked with steep ‘karst’ rock formations stunning you on the way. The Krabi town is a small sleepy town during the day and we were to go around 25 Kms further to Sofitel at the Klong Muang beach.

To give an overview of this destination, allow me to summarize: Krabi town is the original town with many hotels, small population (25,000 if wiki is to be believed). The resorts are located  at the beaches around Krabi. Ao-Nang is the party place of the area with a rich variety pubs, eateries and shops. (Note: I shall refrain from mentioning massage parlors again and again. The informed reader knows that once you are in Thailand, you are always a stone’s throw away from massage parlor; no matter how obscure a location you may try to get to).

In two hours, we were splendidly proficient in enacting queries, asking for directions and had explored a significant part of the country. Our explorations were driven by our need to reach our destination, which in-spite of being within a few kilometers radius, had continued to elude us.

Finally, we did get there. And what a spectacle it is! The beach is a debacle with mining ruining most of it but the grandeur of the property more than makes up for it. While you get a colloquial European feel here, the sheer size blows you away.  

The usual star facilities galore, Sofitel’s swimming pool is gigantic. Once we did experience it, there was no way we were missing it any day during our stay. Some things to be kept in mind before you book with Sofitel: First, be warned that it is huge. If you get a room a kilometer from the lobby, you are done for. Second, ensure that the property is not a host to another big ticket event like a golf tournament or a wedding. If you land here during such an event, there is a fair chance you will be sidelined; as in our case when the resort turned out to be sold to the destination wedding party during the final leg of our stay.

Once we were well settled in the resort, we set off to Ao Nang by dusk. This surely is a lively place with endless restaurants and pubs. The beach offers a spectacular view of the setting sun in the backdrop of the karst formations. The objective of getting to Ao Nang tonight was to get a snorkeling deal for tomorrow. Wandering, we covered most of the place dusk to late night. We were also fortunate to have hit a good deal for a tour to Phi-Phi island the next day, two sessions of snorkeling included. Though the best part of the day was the small night market at Ao-Nang. While Sona has little interest in shopping, her love for meats (and sea food in particular) made the night market worthwhile. For it was riddled with stalls selling weird creatures. Cooked: of course, but in their absolute form. For instance, you could not buy sliced meat; but you could certainly buy a fully fried/baked crab, fish, seahorse, etc. When the fried stingray and squid were in her line of sight, the augmentation of red blood corpuscles in her bloodstream was affected. Millions of them were splashing about and calling gaily to other millions of corpuscles.  We did get adventurous and tried all we could. After the night market, we had a hearty dinner at a live music place and headed back to Sofitel in the rain. 

Kudos to Budget car rental at the airport for getting us such a good deal on the brilliant vehicle!

The California 1 drive: Santa Cruz and Carmel

The earth slipped from beneath my feet when I saw the blue beast at the SF airport. The guys had hired a Mustang for the day for one of the best drives of the world. The legendary California 1 highway was to be taken and we were about to savor the picturesque coastline.

Santa Cruz

Santa Cruz is a quiet town with a great coastline and we hit a great brunch place called 'Gilda's' here. The eggs and pancakes are truly worth a mention for they ensured that I remember the name of the place. You may also witness some surfers if you are here in the right season.

Carmel

Carmel is a small town which can easily be a synonym of opulence. Historically,this has been host to many artists and played a vital role in the rise of the art era. I repeatedly kept asking the guys as to what makes this town so grand even today; what do its people do? There had to be a reason why the homes were so regal, half the Porsches of the world are here. I was informed that this town is where all the silicon valley people retire. So once you've made your million (or billion), you get a Porsche, a grand home in Carmel and spend rest of your life visiting cafes here. I was informed that this city has a strange law which mandates obtaining a permit before wearing heels. History justifies this law citing the record number of lawsuits filed by people who tripped over thick tree-roots. While driving back, we hit the town of Monterey.

The drive along CA1 is epic. And today we were out in the 305bhp Mustang. The distinguished growl of the American muscle, the fresh California sea air in your face- this was pure magic. We often hear Floyd, Maiden etc and wonder if the lyrics describe despair, hope or elation. Today, playing on the Mustang's stereo; along with the V6's growl- it was ecstasy. I envy all the Californians who can drive down to this place every weekend. The winding roads, the lovely air and the occasional sprinkles of sea water make it one of the best drives I've ever had.
We did get to the Ventana wilderness of the Los Padres national forest by 3 and started our trek towards the sea. We braved a river, swamps and slush: in the company of deer. However, the swamps grew uglier and it was the fearless Sid who braved the last one. After calling it a day, we headed back with drivers switched and Praddy ]; I in the back seat with the top down. Now this move put us in a different world altogether. While the windshield streamlines the air in the front, the rear is open to nature. I confessed to these guys: I now understood why dogs stuck their heads (and tongue) out of windows of speeding cars. I am proud to have experienced that pleasure that is rightfully canines'.
Note: the final race in Need for speed starring the Bugati Veyron, the Lambo, Konnigsegg, Saleen, McLaren

San Fransisco

First evening in SF, I strolled around in downtown, absorbing the environment. This city boasts of a very beautiful mix of people- right from Bankers, technologists to the creative ones. It's not all suits, the free spirit is very apparent here.

Sid and I went for a midnight drive to the Golden Gates bridge and the Bunker road in a BMW 3. We stood there soaking in the breathtaking view until the chilly wind forced us to head back. The spots at Bunker road have beautiful view-points and is visited by tourists and city dwellers alike. We came across a couple of photographers, light dancers at work and that's when I realized how prevalent art forms/hobbies are in this city.. 


The next day, I was out on my own.. It ought to be very simple now that had tips from Sid. To make things more challenging, the data service support on my phone was zilch. So I listened very carefully when Sid issued the instructions: I was supposed to walk towards Montgomery street, reach the station to get the MUNI.. No wait.. I ought to go to  Embarcadero station instead- get the ripper card (??!!), load it with cash so that it could be used in the BART as well. Then take the F line Muni to Pier 39 at fisherman's wharf. 
Well, I found that wretched unpronouncable station after quizzing some ten people. It is tough to ask for directions to the station you are supposed to go now that you have forgotten that dreaded name altogether; but miraculously- I managed. I got the clipper (not ripper) at that Embark-something station. Now a new problem confronted me. According to Sid's instructions, I was supposed to take something right now and BART later in the evening. Out here, I saw sign for the Metro, Muni and BART. What was I supposed to take? The Muni or the Metro?! After some contemplation, common sense prevailed and the brain concluded that Muni and Metro had to be the same thing. So I got on the N Muni\metro. It was a pleasant ride. As the Muni came out of the underground track, the bay bridge was quite a spectacle and the clouds were.... Wait... Bridge? Why was I heading in the Bay bridge direction?!! Yikes! Wrong train!!

Then it struck me. So N was the Muni we took yesterday. Today I was supposed to take the historic F route Muni. Backtracking.. Finding the F station. 30 mins lost.

Anyhow. Fisherman's wharf is certainly a very touristy place. Street shopping, the Pier 39, the Aqua museum, the battleship & submarine, cruise, Alcatraz. If you are still Mr./Ms. Grumpy calling such tourist spots 'Humbug', the colors and the joyful air of the place is sure to cheer you up. There's a lot to do. The city cruise sets you back by $30, but its definitely worth it. They take you around in a small ship to the sea, the golden gates bridge, the Alcatraz prison and run you through the history of the city.
Needless to say, the golden gates bridge is quite a symbolic structure testifying human grit to create the impossible. Witnessing it in person does get you in a different mood altogether. I say the cruise is worth it because it presents the town very beautifully with stories from history of the town accompanying the breathtaking view of the city. There's a surprise for you when you leave/reach the pier. There are hundreds of sea lions greeting you with their yelps. Not tamed, but dudes/dudettes who find SF cool enough to live here forever. The Mechanics museum is worth a mention as it takes you back some 30 years back with those mechanical video game parlors. 
Thanks to Sid, I was living in downtown and explored market street, town centre, fin centre and chinatown at leisure. The Coit tower was also raided and it promises a brilliant view; especially of the lit up city at night.

Haight street and Castro are areas Praddy & Sid took me to show the 'upmarket part of the town'. Noticing proud flags everywhere and countless couples, I later figured that there is something more to this place. Upon further inquiry, it was finally revealed that this was where the LGBT movement started and the area has become symbolic for the community. While you may be open minded, it usually takes a while to acclimatize to this environment.

Sid had a surprise- we are getting a nice ride today- he notified. I was still high on the Ford Mustang from yesterday and ignored what he said. You see: once you have lived your dream, you don't care what's happening (or not happening next). I mean, what can better than V6 legend that defines American muscle?
What I saw next gave me a big big shock. The Mustang was already overwhelming for my soul. Now seeing our ride for today, my heart flipped. Standing before us was the evil 350Z roadster!! 3.5L-V6, 6 speed stick shift. Evil.. Definitely evil. That thing thumping in my chest refused to sober up, it definitely needed clinical assistance to stabilize. We took turns and drove it upto twin peaks. This place provides another bird eye view of the city and more importantly, a brilliant winding road.
 

One evening was dedicated to visiting relatives in Fremont. Now that I had mastered the art of climbing on to wrong trains, I treaded with extreme caution. The great determination, human spirit triumphed and I reached Fremont successfully without any trouble. However, catastrophe struck on my return journey. I was quite happy with the fact that I had managed to change at Bayview and was heading in the right direction. I was trying to get a better view of Oakland from the window when things started getting weird. The air-hostess came and offered me a non-vegetarian meal. I politely declined and told her that I was quite full indeed after the lovely meal my Didi had made. She took offense and started screaming in some indiscernible tongue. She started yelling that I ought to put my seat-belt on and I discovered that I didn't have any at my seat. At the same time, the bus driver from Vegas started stating that I ought to be careful while gambling. The house always wins- he concluded. Irritated, I replied that I was very well aware of that and he ought to get lost or get a bike. It was getting uglier by the minute. When I could not find my seat belt after hours of struggle, I started getting hysterical. Why was I being force-fed? Where the heck was my seat-belt?? And why on Earth was the air-hostess yelling at me??? Wait a minute... What was an air-hostess doing here???? Why was a seat-belt needed in the Bay Area Rapid Transit (BART) train?????! Is this a joke? Or possibly a dream??

Poof!!! I woke up with a start and looked around in bewilderment. The eyes took a while to adjust to the light. The train was empty, the doors were open. I must have been sleeping for a while!! Lest they declare me clinically dead, I hurried out to the platform. I must have been asleep for quite a while for the board notified that I was at the Daly city station- the last one. Hysterical, I called up Sid & Praddy to notify them of the development and get further instructions on how to get back. The call was a futile one because while Vanchi and Praddy continued laughing, the last train for Richmond approached. By the time these guys got over with their hearty laugh and offered to drive down to pick me up, I was headed back.

The Muni and Bart will continue to haunt me for some time but all said, they are one of the few reliable public transportation systems in the USA. (I almost missed my flight in Vegas thanks to the oblivious bus system.)

Independent investigation on the matter of losing consciousness on the BART was not conclusive but chalks out two possibilities:

1. I was dead tired. 3-4 hours of sleep since the last week had caught up with me.

2. I was a victim of the California hippie culture. Let's be clear- I did not manage to become a hippie and return to India dum maaro dum ishtyle. What I refer to is the possibility of me being a victim of the hippie consumables in the BART. I had used the BART and Muni quite extensively and had witnessed marijuana smoke multiple times: mostly at the stations and sometimes on the train/tram. In fact, late that night- I have no doubts about what the hooded couple were smoking in the BART. Did the smoke from their stuff knock me out? This California culture is something to watch out for; and I am told it has to run parallely with creativity. When I inquired about this (smoking up in no smoking zones??!!), I was told that marijuana here is 'almost legal'.

I do not like too big cities. Well, everybody's busy running & chasing big money, and in turn are being chased by bigger bills. You could buy an island for the rent you pay here for a hut and you are always a nobody in the sea of people. Parking is a problem, everybody's busy murdering each other and running thereafter..
A big city like SF (and areas around) does have a lot of the characteristics mentioned above. However, I fell in love with the city for some things that set it apart. Unlike most American cities, it does have a history to boast of: spanning from the Spanish era right to the gold rush and resurrection from the fire and quake. After running for life in Mumbai, I find my pace of walking a bit more than everyone, but not in the SF downtown. The city is fast. The golden gates bridge and the bay area make for more than a scenic view, they are a part of life for all its citizens. Everyone I met has had a dinner, went for a trek, cycling or something to this region at least once a fortnight. The energy is high and it's not just the silicon valley, this city has several old banks, design firms and the creative kind. The Muni running down sloping blocks is as vital as the bay bridge, golden gates in defining San Fransisco and is a sight to be experienced.




...In the streets of San Francisco
Gentle people with flowers in their hair
All across the nation, such a strange vibration
People in motion
There's a whole generation with a new explanation
People in motion, people in motion
For those who come to San Francisco
Be sure to wear some flowers in their hair
If you come to San Francisco
Summertime will be a love-in there

-Scott McKenzie

Las Vegas, the Grand Canyon

Vegas

Gambling. What Vegas is famous for.. Strikes you right in your face when you land at McCarran airport. Casino machines in excess at the airport itself. And the size of the airport is intimidating. I had to walk for miles, take a metro train to the other terminal, walk for miles again before I reached the baggage belt. Miles may be an exaggeration in the text above but the size and time taken at the airport is not. And once out of the airport, you are greeted by an array of flyovers and of course- the famous strip. The MGM grand, Pallazo, etc are very much visible from the airport.

This was a trip on shoestrings. Add to that the woes of my currency; I decided to take the bus. For $2, it got me somewhere near my hotel, after which I walked for a mile. On the bus I was greeted by a charming couple- where the wife threatened to kill her husband thrice, hit him once and pinched his arm twice. Words that the lovebirds used to address each other augmented my vocabulary substantially. As soon as they got off, the place opposite to me was taken by three: two middle aged women and a gentleman. Observing their chimpanzee-ish demeanor and indiscernible conversation, I could not very well pin down the quantity (in kilos) of dope running in their veins. While all of America had stunned me with amazing mannerisms, this was one experience where gazes burnt my brown skin.

In short, there is a lesson to be learnt. In Vegas- do not depend on public transport. 
1. Its highly unreliable. A fact established by an airport bus that never came. I may point out that this was taken decently by the hardened Indian, but the British and German tourists waiting with me at the stop were close to tears. 




2. Late in the night, it does not feel safe. This is from my trip from the airport to the Riveria street. While the Strip buses should be fine, but those operating beyond ought to be avoided.




I had got a dream come true deal at the Circus Circus (an MGM hotel). In no time, I was impressed. The only sore point was that walking within the hotel was like walking through a city. I got lost multiple times, reached the casino when searching for the travel desk, found myself at the amusement park when searching for the shopping center in the hotel. No kidding.. There is a spectacular amusement park inside the hotel! With roller coasters and all. At $22 a night, I was expecting to sleep under a bunker bed in a dormitory full of devious characters from gangster movies. What I got was a four bedder room to myself with all the amenities one can dream of. In fact, it is this deal that got me to Vegas instead of LA as per the initial plan.

Today, I had gained 2 hours and there was ample time to loaf around at the Strip. I was on the poorer side of the Strip which worked well as I was closer to the dollar burger at McD, 7-11 and a couple of inexpensive souvenir shops. The walk to the Bellagio was close to 2 miles and in case you are not awed by the grandeur, there is not much to do.

The Grand Canyon

The next day I took the bus tour to the Grand Canyon. At 5:50 am, a connecting bus picked me up from the hotel and took me to the main hub where tickets, refreshments etc were bought. The Hoover dam + Canyon south rim+ lunch is for $95 and in case you opt for the IMax, add to that $15.

The drive took close to 5 hours with a halt at Hoover dam, Kingstown (Arizona) and the National Geographic center for lunch. Kingstown is a small town which prides itself of the historic 'Route 66'. In Arizona, time zone changed again by 1 hour and by this time, I simply gave up trying to keep a track of time.

The Grand Canyons offer a majestic sight. What I saw was just the view, I would love to get into the real thing one day. This means chuck the chopper ride, pink jeep tour and get inside on foot. Or perhaps a mule. For there is a lot more to the canyons than what tourists see from their sweet spots. You can feel their grandeur.. Mesmerizing.. Challenging you to experience the whole thing.

It was 10pm by the time I got back to Vegas. But not to worry, the city works 24*7, perhaps works better at night. I again loafed around the strip and took the usual snaps at those properties that define grandiose.

There's a lot to do at Vegas: clubs, the shows, sky diving (the real thing and a virtual one as well), shooting (with your favorite counter strike guns for real) and bungee jumping.

This is a place which guarantees fun for all. If you do take time to stop and think- this is anything and everything in a nowhere-land.