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While perusing my travel companion (books) for good places to stay in Flagstaff, I erupted in glee and giggles when I read that the Historic Hotel Monte Vista, located in the center of the old Flagstaff district, is where the indoor scenes for Casablanca was shot. This was too good to pass up. Prices were right, and I was set to stay there, even after a visit to the website revealed to my disappointment that the hotel proudly houses ghosts. I don’t believe in ghosts, but what if I’m wrong? All these old hotels are so happy to share with future guests that a while back people killed themselves or other people in the rooms. Why? Anyway, the draw of the film’s magic was enough for me to set aside my brief entertaining of the idea that ghosts are real, and I got a room for two nights.
The drive to Flagstaff was uninteresting until I reached the southern steps of Escalante National Monument, a staggering sight in the midst of encroaching desert. As dusk clouded the view, I approached the sprawl of the city, lit up like old Vegas. My mood only improved with the gold paint of the walls in my room and the intriguing fast food place right across the street called The Pita Pit. Currently obsessed with Ethiopian and Mediterranean cuisine, this sounded like the greatest new idea in food! Of course it isn’t all that new, and the falafel was really not that good, but for a moment the prospect of eating cheap delicious pitas for the next two days satisfied my culinary desires. When that dream was crushed, it of course allowed me to rationalize that the next night I deserved a dinner at one of the best rated restaurants in town that I read about.
The hotel maintains its historic architecture beautifully, and luckily Arizona is so new that historic buildings have elevators, so there’s no need to tear anything down or build some hideous addition and ruin it. The hotel covers almost a block, with a store, a cocktail lounge, a restaurant, and a coffee shop spread out on the first floor. I would love to go on a date there. It does feel like you’re in an old movie, even when you read the names of the famous people that have stayed in the rooms on the door plaques.
When I was checking the weather in the morning, I was especially pleased to watch an anti-war protest march along the street below my window. Most people had homemade signs and the woman with the microphone should have come up with more than one sentence to recite over and over, but it all made me feel at home. Some college-age hippies wearing plaid pajama bottoms even brought their drums (marching band style) and a couple horns. An old man with a stunning blond beard to match quite a lot of hair walked behind them with an accordion. He did not play it.
After visiting the Canyon, I drove back, determined to experience the new city. I really liked it, I felt safe, and had created a little list of places to see based on blurbs and local NPR programming.
Sidenote: when you’re traveling without lists of things to do, try to get in a local NPR station on the way to town. Their cute little commercials will usually tell you about classy goings-on that are sure to score you some culture points.
I called the restaurant, Josephine’s, and started to walk around town. I had heard that the documentary Iraq in Fragments was being shown twice at an old theater, and I wanted to grab a ticket. All of the three places supposedly selling tickets for the Orpheum Theater shows were not for this day. I window shopped and hoped to someday return with more time. Almost ready to give up on the tickets, I decided to eat and walk back to the theater, hoping one ticket would be left.
From my small walking tour in the old district, I liked how plain the city seemed. Boutiques were creative, not snooty, and all types of people hung out along the streets. Shops and hotels were housed in interesting buildings that were aged but not crumbling, and the new buildings were constructed in a nice, forgettable style. People were helpful and kind (except the guy at the Pita Pit). It was a friendly city, and won me over right away.
The dinner at Josephine’s was unreal! The entire staff was exceptionall friendly. I felt comfortable enough in their hands to get a little tipsy! I ordered the Bodega
vineyard selection, De Fin Del Mundo, a malbec from Patagonia,
and waited for my salad. The house salad came with mixed baby greens, a little
tomato, a little jicama (raw- so much better than fried!!), and the signature
champagne vinaigrette. The dressing was superb.
I gobbled that up and waited
for the special: seared scallops and tiger shrimp in a delectable orange (not
the fruit, the color) sauce that must have had a little butter in it but I have
no recollection of the spice arrangement except that it was delightful, a
selection of grilled vegetables, and a green chili polenta mash. I was landlocked and those were the most tender scallops I'd eaten since the north Atlantic! I asked for a
wine pairing and the fruity pinot grigio I was brought worked fantastically.
Although I was quite full (remember I don’t really eat much during the day anymore), I decided to order the dessert, a mango and apple crumble, with a twenty-year tawny port. That wasn’t a mistake! Dear all that is good and tasty, that place is a well-oiled machine for pleasing the palate. The chefs were friendly- I watched as regulars brought in children and parents and were greeted by them and the hostess like true acquaintances. That was a truly great dining experience. Too often a chef will add cream or bleu cheese out of fear, is it? that their flavors aren’t bold enough.
I walked to the Orpheum Theater and found a queue. An aging crunchy couple stood in the back and told me that no one had tickets, the show was a fundraiser and the doors open in five minutes. How lucky for me!
The next morning I wanted to get to California. This meant that I would leave early and drive all day, and that the rest of the city would go on my to-do list.
previous travel blog entry
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