Jerome, Sedona, Arizona

It has been a seasonal tradition between me and my boyfriend to take a day trip to another area of Arizona at least once every three months. This time, I absolutely insisted he keep our location a secret. I wanted no knowledge of where we were going--half of the fun is in the surprise!
We started off heading north on the I-17, which is how we usually start our day trips.
By the time we were in Prescott Valley, Daniel had told me that we weren't going to Prescott, or Prescott Valley, nor were we going through Prescott. "I wouldn't say we're going through Prescott, because we're not going further west than Prescott," he said. I sat, silent, thinking. "You should know where we're going." I had no clue.
Right as we were passing Watson Lake, he needed directions and help with navigation, so he had to tell me where we were going. We were going to Jerome! I was so excited. The last time I was in Jerome, I was seven, and it was a relatively boring trip with my parents. But this promised something more exciting, because I was accompanied by my love.
Arizona 89A, from Prescott to Jerome, was not my friend. My stomach grew increasingly more upset (as did I) as Daniel took the turns on the side of the mountain at upwards of 40 miles per hour. His excuse? "Sebastian (the Subaru) can take it!" Sure, the car can take it, but my stomach can not.
I sighed with relief when we climbed the last hill to the parking lot where we left our picnic goodies, the car, and the umbrella.

Jerome was much more busy than I would have expected, with a rumbling main street, full of Volkswagen cars and motorcycles. We began our town tour at the old car shop, which was now a museum. It had all sorts of interesting information about the use of cars in Jerome, and how the closing of the Phelps-Dodge sector of the mine in the 1950's thoroughly did the town in. Thankfully, people came back eventually, and turned Jerome into the quaint art mecca that it is today.

Speaking of art, since when were kaleidoscopes coming back into style? After the museum, we strolled two shops down, and entered the Nellie Bly II. I was drawn in because I had just learned that Nellie Bly was the first female investigative reporter, hired by Pulitzer in the late 1800's. I wondered what related to her could possibly be in Jerome, and the answer is nothing. Expecting to enter an old newspaper shop, I was greeted by kaleidoscopes.

Kaleidoscope of faces.

Everywhere. Small kiddie ones, like the one I had growing up, and ginormous intricate cast-iron ones, ones on necklaces, and others costing over $1,000. I looked at them, slightly afraid I might break one, touched them gingerly, and didn't really do much playing. That is, until one of the shopkeepers walked up to me and asked if I had taken a picture of the inside of one yet. "Is that allowed? May I?" I asked. She laughed, and assured me I would be alright taking a photo inside one. So, I did, and this is what I came up with.
Nellie Bly set a high standard for all the other shops we then visited. A few were beautiful, but not fun, and a few were fun, but not particularly beautiful. There were plenty of glass shops where a paperweight cost upwards of $200, which was beautiful but not fun. Those were boring after a while, but then we happened upon a glass blowing studio.
We arrived slightly after the first demonstration had begun. An older man, with dark gray hair and a really great beard, was pulling a glowing red bulb out of the fire. He continued then to shape it into what I assumed was a pear, because there was a gutted china cabinet not far away full of colorful glass pears.

Very cute, indeed.

He showed us how to shape a pear in a glass fire, if we ever were to become glass-blowing apprentices. His demonstration ended with his listing of the average cost for electricity ($1,000 monthly) but assured us he wouldn't be doing this unless he was rich, and then asked us to donate any change we had to the Jerome Animal Shelter. What a nice guy.
I'm not quite sure where we went from there. I remember seeing a few abandoned buildings (my love), and ending up in a candy store (the candy was kinda stale) then a coffee shop. Well, it was more than a coffee shop. It was the Flatiron Cafe and Flat. It was a coffee shop that sold Intelligentsia coffee. Daniel was rather happy that he found a qualified coffee shop (somewhere between a regular shop and a third wave shop) in the middle of nowhere, and I was extremely flattered by the hipster barista man who seemed very interested in me. We ordered our drinks, and enjoyed them in shop.
My soy chai latte was good, but not as good as the one I can order at Jobot. Soy chai lattes are quickly becoming my grading standard for coffee shops, because I am usually disappointed when I buy a basic cup of coffee, and you really can't judge a coffee shop by their basic latte or cappuccino.
I finished my chai latte, and we decided it was time for lunch. There was a romantic hatchback picnic waiting for us in Sebastian the Subaru. We split a loaf of French bread, some Swiss cheese that didn't pair well with our sopressatta, and something to drink. As we nibbled on our traditional French lunch, it began to sprinkle, and a little puppy named Simba came to visit us. His owners, another couple picnicking a few cars down, continually had to run and pick him up. Apparently our food was better than theirs.

Novio y Mochilla

We took another quick stroll through Jerome, this time on the uppermost of the streets. We stopped in an olive oil and balsamic vinegar shop, which Daniel recognized as a part of a chain, with locations in Sedona as well as other places. Nonetheless, I got a sample of some white peach flavored vinegar, and it made for a delicious dessert. We then walked all the way to the Grand Jerome Hotel, which was a bit of a bummer. I was hoping for a ghost tour, but they were only offered at night and to guests. By then, it was nearly 3 pm, so we stopped at a store we had previously visited to buy a handsome adventuring backpack for Daniel, and we headed down the mountain for Cottonwood.
We stopped in Cottonwood, tried to sort out a malfunction with Daniel's debit card, realized it was pointless to do it then (no banks were open nearby), and headed to Sedona.
 Sedona was as wonderful as always. There were a few farmers/art markets that were set up to benefit the animal shelter (what is with these people and their animal shelters.) We saw lots of pretty things, but didn't have cash to spend on them. We decided, then, our sole purpose of going to Sedona was to find a bumper sticker for the Subaru. We walked around for an hour or two, but we didn't find a single one that was worthy of being placed on Sebastian's rear end. I did, however, find a nifty Mae West quote sticker, as well as two necklaces (binoculars and a captain's wheel) to join my collection.
Soon after we left Sedona, we passed another art market in Oak Creek. We stopped, looked, and left, for I had already taken a Dramamine. I slept the majority of the ride back home, enjoying Young the Giant in the background, and the hum of Sebastian's tires against the road.