Single Status Update
This is an account of my journeys to faraway lands for the past 2 weeks. I spent them hiking out in the Wild Wild West, namely Colorado and Arizona. In Arizona, the main attraction is the Grand Canyon, so we (die Familie) hiked 10 miles from the south rim to this place called Phantom ranch near the river. That was nice. We had stew. It was another ten miles back up the next morning.
One day of rest, and then we hiked to this village called Havasupai. It's an indian reservation in one of the Grand Canyon's side canyons, only accessible by foot, mule, or helicopter. Another 10 miles to get there. Mostly all there is in town is a bunch of starving horses and stray dogs. Like Mexico, only with better water. All the horses were standing two feet deep in their own shit, trying to eat their own shit, and all the trailers were filthy and the little kids were throwing mud at them. Which, to me, doesn't make sense. Aren't they trying to present themselves as a 'proud' people? Isn't everything sacred to them? So why not their own houses? Their claim to fame and the only thing keeping tourism dollars flowing in to the town is the large blue waterfalls that the Supai tribe owns. Nice location, crappy people. What the brochures don't tell you is that the natives hate whities, and resent the fact that they need us to keep their town afloat.
Okay, so on the first day, we didn't really catch on to this fact, mostly because we thought that the cold reception we got was a cultural difference. These people live with 1200 foot walls all around, after all. It was on the second day, after a 4-year-old shouted, "Whitey go home!" to my father, that we saw what was really going on. Well, what can you do, right? We were going home the next day anyway. So after spending the day at the falls, we headed to the only place to eat in town, this crappy cafeteria, and ate frybread and indian tacos (which, by the way, is probably the reason that every single one of them is obese).
Now, supposedly, it's a dry res. However, I can personally attest that either that's not the case or there's some rule-breaking going on down there. For some reason, my sister wanted to eat on the porch, even though it was like 104 degrees out or something. So we're like, "go for it," but a minute later she comes back with this weird look on her face. Apparently, there was some fat indian gal about her age (21) on the porch. When my sister walked out there, the indian was like, "Nooooo, fuck noooo. How many of you are there?"
"Um, there's four of us."
"Fuck no! No whities allowed!"
"Uh, okay. Sorry." *dashes back in to tell us about her odd encounter*
So a little while later, this chick waddles inside and starts talking to a group of indians at a table in some Yavapai language or whatever the hell they speak, but they mostly ignore her. She's obviously been hitting the fire water as she cruises toward our table (apparently her favorite spot). But about five feet from us, she manages to see us through her drunken beer goggle haze and swerves away, saying, "No fuck no!" She plops down farther away and starts babbling in her own language. I can only guess what things she was saying about whities on the res and whatever else, but some of it got the other indians laughing.
What I was wondering was, who was her supplier and how were the others not clamoring for her booze? Maybe they had like a lottery, and today was her day to get drunk. That would explain why everyone was so tolerant of her. We set out at 4 AM the next morning.
Lesson learned: Next time you decide to hike to a remote Native American village, pack plenty of water and don't interact with the natives. Bring fire water for bargaining.
TL;DR: Read the story, you lazy butt munch!