No wonder they are wonders

Writing home from two of the most popular natural wonders of the world, the Grand Canyon and the Niagara Falls

by Aditha Dissanayake

I need to confess something embarrassing this week. Looking back at my journey to see the Grand Canyon all I can remember are the numerous stops our Czechoslovakian driver cum tour guide, Jerry, made for the forty three passengers on the bus to answer calls of nature almost every half hour on the hour.

Whether we wanted to do so or not was immaterial. Worried that the passengers might use the toilet inside the bus he would politely command everyone to please use the rest rooms when we stop in a rest area because we will not be stopping again for sometime. Never have I been in and out of rest rooms ever so often in all my life till now.

Moving from a gambler's paradise in Las Vegas to another kind of paradise, traveling through Arizona with its clear skies, mild weather and wide open spaces it becomes all too clear why celebrities like Julia Roberts, Madonna and Arnold whatshisname, now nicknamed the governator would choose to own homes to spend their vacations here in an area identified as 'Hollywood' in Arizona.

Here is a land where life is low-key, secluded and authentic in sharp contrast to life in the big cities. According to Jerry, people come here to live life fully. They want to get away from the city, ride their horses, hike and climb. They want to live closer to nature. They want to retire here and leave their children a place in the country...

I barely remember the rest of Jerry's commentary. With my body clock still unaccustomed to the time difference of nearly twelve hours by the time we reach the Hoover dam I can hardly keep my eyes open.

Though it's still ten in the morning my body seems to refuse to accept this fact and yearns for sleep, for back at home at this time of the day, I would have been dead to the world. All I can remember are endless stretches of stone walls and snatches of Jerry's narration.

Whether this is all there is to see or whether I fell asleep while we passed a spectacular sight of the dam remains a mystery. All I know from what Jerry tells me is that this is the largest dam on planet earth and that around ninety five workers died mainly of heat exhaustion while it was under construction.

Yet, however sleepy one might be it is hard to miss the soothing terrains of Arizona, covered in pine and juniper, and its scenic mountain vistas. Elk, deer, antelope and quail thrive here and the skies are home to hawks, bald eagles and peregrine falcons says Jerry.

In towns like Williams, and Tusayana, with restaurants called Max and Thelma's where you are served broccoli soup, fried cat fish and cowboy beans, old west charm mingles with modern dining, shopping and recreations.

Arriving at the Grand Canyon it becomes obvious the name sums it up. GRAND. No TV program or photo can do justice to the beauty of the colours and the vastness of the sight, creating an everlasting impression. As we return to the bus after an awe inspiring walk trying not to get into each other's photo paths, Jerry, waiting patiently in the shade of a Joshua tree asks 'Well folks did you see my shovel down there. 'I come up here and dig every other day'. He tries to convince us the Grand Canyon is all his work.

A day's rest and off to Niagara Falls. This time, the tour guide Jinsen, is young and too serious to crack jokes.

His Chinese accent makes it impossible to understand what little details he imparts. But, eavesdropping on the commentary of another tour guide, I learn that, nestled between Lake Ontario and Lake Erie the spectacular trio of water falls known as the Niagara Falls comprises the American falls, which is said to be the tallest, the Horseshoe falls, also called the Canadian falls, which is the broadest and the modest yet graceful Bridal Falls lying between them in the gap between Goat and Luna Islands. Together the falls pour over 750,000 gallons of water per second into the gorge below.

I like the Horseshoe Falls the best. It's hard not to be fascinated by the relentless kinetic energy of the blue green water flowing towards the brink of the precipice and then plunging to the depths below.

The sound of the water over powers all other sounds, the conversations around me, the ringing tone of mobile phones and screaming kids, making me think of the words of Frankenstein who says Miss Farrell has a voice like some unparalleled phenomenon of nature. She is to singers what Niagara is to waterfalls.

Hear her, see her, smell her and finally feel her. The ride on the Maid of the Mist boat service takes you through the turbulent waters of the American falls right up to the foot of the Horseshoe falls where you feel the water crashing onto you.

Though the blue ponchos given free to the passengers keep most of the water out, this wet, wet, wet experience standing at the bow of the boat, unable to see anything except a stupendous rainbow visible through the white mist makes me wonder whether if I could get over the rainbow I would find paradise.

The final view of the falls at night when it is lit by 22Xenon gas spotlights in shades of pink, red, magenta, amber, blue and green provides a half hour thrill of a lifetime. Amazing, unbelievable, stunning, dynamic, breathtaking, awesome. I can not think of one exact word to describe this epiphanic, apocalyptic landscape of Romanticism. No wonder it is a wonder.

Out of the misty waters of Niagara and off to Maryland. Right now I am seated on a bench in Crookston, Rockville, writing this on my laptop while waiting for my childhood friend, Chanaki to return from her lab, where she is on a post doctoral research project at the Maryland University. Her apartment will be my home in the days ahead. Though it is already eight in the night the sun seems reluctant to go home, as if he wants to stay with me a little longer so that I will have enough light to write some more.

A gentle breeze caresseses my face and I smell the sweet fragrance of wild flowers. Every now and then I hear the sound of a twig crackling in the peaceful woods in front of me and I know a deer must be hovering around. It is hard not to yearn for the mouthwatering sensation of closing my lips around a cup of mmmmmmm fresh brewed plain tea? yes, I miss home.

Catch you next week at the White House.

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