Glitz, Grit, and Grandeur: A Journey from Vegas Lights to Canyon Shadows

Some journeys visually delight you. Others mentally relax you. And then there are those that carve themselves into your memory like a canyon eroded by water — layer by layer, mile by mile.

After San Francisco’s sloping serenity, I returned to the familiar warmth of Los Angeles. For five days, life took on a celebratory rhythm — glittering saris, henna-stained hands, the beat of Bollywood music, and the joy of seeing family at my niece’s wedding. There’s a special kind of beauty in Indian weddings abroad — where tradition meets something offbeat but keeps the soul intact. The mantras chanted by a priest against the backdrop of Bhangra beats, ghagras and Kanchipuram silk saris swaying together to modern-day EDM, a 14-course (or maybe more) South Indian Iyer meal served as a buffet, and silk dhotis blending effortlessly with tuxedos — that’s the special kind of beauty I’m talking about.

Immaculately planned and executed with military precision, it was a total delight. I danced till my legs gave out. But all fun things must end — and more must begin, right?

Soon, another road beckoned. And this time, I wasn’t travelling alone. My cousin Anu (yes, the one who made San Francisco magical), another cousin Geeta, and her husband Swami took me on a 3-day road trip from LA to the glitz of Las Vegas, the grit of Hoover Dam, and the grandeur of the Grand Canyon - The three Gs.

From Hills to Heat: The Road to Vegas

The road from Los Angeles began like a cinematic montage — rolling hills, sun-soaked freeway lanes, and the soundtrack of laughter and the kind of friendly arguments that only happen on long road trips. As we moved further east, the lushness of Southern California began to fade. The greens turned to gold, gold to beige, and then to the dry, dusty browns of desert country. The traffic was fast, and we made good time despite starting late. Suddenly, I noticed that the opposite lane was jammed, a snarl nearly 5 km long, and we smugly waved at the crawling traffic, secretly hoping karma wasn’t taking notes. Somewhere past Barstow, the horizon stretched wider, with bluer skies and more barren landscapes. It looked as if nature had painted a minimalist canvas in shades of brown just for us. The conversation drifted between the upcoming glitz of Vegas and the old-school charm of the small towns we passed — each with a gas station, a diner, and a few houses that looked modest compared to the bungalows of LA.

And then came that surreal moment. Nevada welcomed us with a border town casino. The tiny town of Primm, just across the California-Nevada border on Interstate 15, is home to several casinos that seem to rise out of nowhere with tall towers and flashing billboards. Why? Because California bans commercial casinos, and these flashy gambling oases are perfectly placed to catch people like us crossing over to Las Vegas. It’s like a Vegas welcome committee — slot machines, neon lights, and the scent of risk — greeting you even before you’ve arrived. A teaser trailer before the actual premiere of the The Las Vegas Strip. That first glimpse of a neon-lit casino is something I’ll always remember — like crossing into another world. Part clever economics, part brilliant temptation. Vegas was near. It reminded me of the Gujarat-Rajasthan border during a road trip in India, where the first shop on the Rajasthan side was a liquor store.

From there, the road dipped into Nevada with a lazy, relaxed drive — as if it knew we were entering a different kind of America. And there it was — in the middle of a desert — Las Vegas. We cruised through the city on broad roads and into typical evening traffic. I looked around, a bit disappointed. It didn’t look anything like the pictures I’d seen for years. Yes, I saw hotels like Mandalay Bay, but they seemed so dull in the daylight.

Soon, we reached our place of stay — Polo Towers, just off the Strip. A serviced room with a view. As I pushed the curtain aside, it revealed a promise of chaos. As twilight dimmed, the lights switched on. Vegas didn’t wake up. It exploded like a firecracker on Diwali night in India.

I looked out of the 16th-floor window, gasping in awe. Neon lights in colours and hues not even seen on a modern artist’s palette.

The Strip: Glittering, Groaning, and Gasping

A quick wash and off we were walking the Strip, a human river flowing through marble facades and blinking billboards. To blend into the crowd, we too bought ourselves a fancy drink in a fancier container and set off. It was a Monday but we did not get a place to sit and eat anywhere. Being vegetarians only made it harder. Everything was booked out. Luckily for us, we found a place which served us some great cheesy nachos and we gobbled it up. With our tummies groaning happily, we set out to see Vegas.

Now I realised what the OCEAN franchise movies used to show. Every hotel has its own casino but one doesn’t need to be a guest in the hotel to walk into the casino. And before even entering one would pass in front of splendidly decorated facades of high end stores. It seems like a portal to garishly bright lights and a super loud throb of humanity as one enters the arena of the Casinos which hummed with tension — slot machines, poker tables, drinks clinking, and players hunched like zombies in front of machines. I have only seen money come out ATMs in India. Here you see your money getting gobbled up by the machine and out comes a QR coded sheet for the same amount. You need to feed this paper to the algorithm run monster machines, music starts and images start moving rapidly. All you need is to keep pressing a semi circular globe - and lose some money. It is so addictive. You lose some and then suddenly with some noises it adds a couple of dollars to your account. You are hooked again! You can’t stop pressing the button and obviously very soon your money runs out - only a few cents out of 20 dollars you had fed the machine. “Do you want to leave a tip for the poor people of Vegas?” the machine asks as you try to get back whatever is left. You angrily press a button which says No. “Sorry this machine does not dispense change.” comes the prompt answer. Your 35 cents are also gone.  I played a round or two, more out of curiosity than greed. It was like tossing coins into a wishing well with no bottom, built by probability. The Indian mind calculated $4 into 86 rupees 45 paise. Oh my God. 350 rupees gone in four presses of a button. I stopped. I only felt better when I saw a slightly drunk, well suited middle aged guy lose more than 100 dollars in less than 10 minutes. Jokes apart, we came back 2 dollars richer and then decided we should see Vegas from outside the casinos than inside.

Caesar’s Place, Palazzo, Cosmopolitan ….. names which had been only seen while searching for top Hotels in Vegas now glittered against a dark sky. The Bellagio fountains danced with elegant drama — music rising, water soaring, lights twinkling in time. The Venetian shimmered in its imitation of Italy, gondolas included. In the distance I saw a colourful Eiffel Tower. All the hotels were humungous. The Bellagio is reported to have nearly 4000 rooms and it is amongst the smallest of them. The Venetian / Palazzo complex has nearly 7100 rooms together. The others a few hundreds lesser. Who stays in them? What does it cost to stay a night here? The lights lit outside one hotel could probably illuminate a 100 villages back home. 

And just then I noticed homeless men in designer alleyways, silent figures curled into shadows, sleeping in their own filth. Scantily clad women tiredly selling some wares and being gawked at by tourists. And just outside the frames of tourist lenses were these stories which never find a place in an Instagram reel. 

Vegas, a city of sin and sadness, where the lights will blind you but if one looks deeper, one will notice skylines sparkle while sad souls sleep on sidewalks, opulence and hunger walking the same path and glitter is wrapped around grief and as I walked past it all, I felt the hollowness behind the hype and it hurt. 

I may not go back to Las Vegas again.

At 2 a.m., the city was still pulsing but we had had enough. Next morning, when I looked out of the same window at 7 am, the city looked abandoned. Streets empty. Neon exhausted. Only the cleaners and early joggers remained witness to the aftermath of indulgence at night. It was time to leave from one man-made opulence and dazzle to be replaced soon by another man-made engineering marvel. 

Breakfast, Boulder & the Behemoth

We left early, our first stop: Boulder City and a quiet Mexican breakfast joint called Huevos Avenue filled us with warmth—some fantastic omelette, salsa, and strong coffee. Then onwards to the Hoover Dam. Here, the landscape changed its style — geometric, stark, magnificent. Hoover Dam isn’t just a dam; it’s a monument to human tenacity.  Built during the Great Depression, it tames the massive Colorado River with rock solid firmness and seemingly easy elegance.

Located on the border of Nevada and Arizona states, the dam was built by over 21000 workers out of which over 100 died during construction. We crossed the dam and parked further up the hillside to have a clear look from the view point. The immensity of the dam is indescribable by pictures or words. Imagine a single structure which is taller than a 60 storied building and more than 1/3rds of a km long and a base wider than 2 football fields laid end to end. That is the size of Hoover Dam!! The amount of concrete poured for building it, could actually have been used to construct a two-lane highway from San Francisco to New York City which is nearly 4800 kms. It takes nearly five and a half hours to FLY across.  

Some fun facts - The concrete inside the dam is still curing! If they’d poured it all at once, it would’ve taken 125 years to cool and cracked apart. The dam literally sits between two time zones — Nevada (Pacific Time) and Arizona (Mountain Time). If you’re walking across, your phone clock jumps an hour! I did not know it then but it would have been fun to see the face of my watch change - and mine too with surprise. Originally called Boulder Dam, it was later renamed after President Herbert Hoover — a move that sparked plenty of political drama in its day - as it does in today’s times too. 

We walked down and crossed on foot over the dam. From the dam’s edge, Lake Mead on the North shimmered like a sleeping beast and on the other side the river trickles away from the shackles of the dam like a child admonished. The drop over the edge was dizzying.

As the sun beat down on us mercilessly,  one could see a dedicated bronze sculpture near the Visitor Center of the High Scaler — hanging from a sheer cliff, drilling through stone—standing as a tribute to men who risked everything on the canyon walls. The stories and the efforts of the men who built this dam was awe-inspiring and humbling at the same time.  

To the Canyon: Widening Skies and Dizzying gorges

The road to the Grand Canyon took us past windmill-dotted White hills, Dolan Springs, and Kingman. The terrain changed from scorched flatlands to sweeping desert. The vast openness that made our car feel like an insignificant dot in the great painter’s sketch. We reached Grand Canyon West by noon and immediately took the bus inside the Lake Mead Recreation Area. And then, we stood still. The first view of the canyon didn’t impress. It just overwhelmed me. 

The layered soil on the face of the canyon, eroded over centuries by the river in the foreground, the trees on the flat land across the gorge looking like miniature bushes and far in the horizon the blue sky stitched tightly and seamlessly to the undulating land was a sight to behold.

At Grand Canyon West, located on the Hualapai Tribal lands, (which is not part of the Grand Canyon National Park), we found a mix of breathtaking natural wonders and thrilling man-made attractions. Eagle Point was the first place we reached and it lived up to its name — rugged cliffs shaped like a giant eagle in flight. Nature using its tools like water and wind can carve out such wonders. It provided us with some stunning panoramic views of the canyon.

Then what we encountered there really tested our nerves - the Glass Skywalk - a U-shaped walkway jutting out 70 feet over the void, with nothing but transparent flooring between us and a 4000-foot drop. My knees rattled together like duo drummers in frenzy while my teeth on my upper jaw had rapid conversations with the lower one. It sounded like a woodpecker on steroids. Everyone without exception held on to the rails and walked tentatively on the edge of the glass walkway which had been conveniently made to look opaque to provide a false sense of security. The centre of the walkway was pure glass made of five layers of tempered glass and is about 2.5 inches (6.35 cm) thick. So no fear of it breaking but who wanted to test that theory. We quickly had the surreal experience of “walking on air” as we gingerly tiptoed around the walkway and felt the comfort and safety of a mother’s arms as we stepped into the Visitor Centre building. The experience is definitely not for the faint hearted but offers a once-in-a-lifetime photo op.  As we stepped outside we saw a reconstructed Native American village showcasing traditional dwellings.

While enjoying the view someone pointed out to the Colorado River which looked like a muddy sliver far below—deceptively calm, quietly powerful. Just a reminder to all of us that rivers carve histories. Totally awestruck by the magnificence, we chattered our way to Tusayan, where we stayed for the night at The Grand Hotel, just outside the Grand Canyon National park. 

Grandeur at Dawn: Grand Canyon South Rim

The next morning, after a hearty breakfast, we drove in early to beat the crowds. Parking our car, we bought tickets for the shuttle bus which took us to experience the South Rim — and all comparisons to West Rim simply vanished. It was no more a view. This was a vision. The immensity, the size, the sheer beauty left us speechless.

The Grand Canyon here is a kaleidoscope of time — strata of reds, browns, and ochres laid bare by wind and water. Each layer an epoch. The play of light and shadows deepened the secrets that this massive natural creation was holding. We walked the Rim Trail, starting at the Mather Point  which was closest to the Visitor Center and moved on to Yavapai Point which offered one of the best views of the Colorado River and inner canyon geology. As we scuttled along the walking trail on the edge of the canyon, each step brought to us a different perspective of the canyon.

If there was one word to describe the entire feeling is - Awestruck or Spellbound or Overwhelmed or Transfixed or plain and simple Gobsmacked - I would take all of them. At places what seemed like the opposite side of the canyon was on our side. 

We walked, took selfies at every turn, took pictures of the canyon oohing and aahing all along. It was surprisingly quiet for a place of such staggering size and we realised this only when we talked in our normal tone and it felt loud. Our tiny-ness in this grand scheme of things became even more evident when we saw a tourist helicopter flying below us. It just looked like a tiny dragonfly flying into a partly opened mouth of a giant. This monumental nature’s carving brought in a sense of huge reverence. 

As we walked the trail on the South rim, we saw a feature called Siva Temple, named by geologist Clarence Dutton in the late 1800s —a butte rising in grandeur like a forgotten deity’s throne. The structure resembles a flat-topped mesa or ancient temple, rising prominently from the canyon floor with striking geological layers. It’s one of the many stunning erosional remnants visible from viewpoints like Yavapai Point, Mather Point, and along the Rim Trail.

The expanse in front of us seemed just boundless - Mount Trumbull was visible in the distance, 60 km away, in the haze. The Colorado now looked like a thin thread stitching together Mother Earth’s open wound. Probably the river has not realised that it has caused the wound in the first place.

Well here time did not pass. It stood beside you, still. Forcing one to introspect on one’s frailty and impermanence. It kind of drove home the point, how alone one was, even with everything around. As I looked at the clear blue sky overhead with the sun, millions of miles away beating down on me and this colossal cut on the earth’s surface, I could sense how inconsequential and vulnerable we humans are in this perspective of our world. We are just a thin short film of life standing on one obscure edge of one part of one canyon, in one tiny piece of land, on an solitary lump of rock and metal and water, we call Earth which itself is just a Pale Blue Dot in the solar system, as Carl Sagan had mentioned in his book by the same name. 

I was humbled.

Back to Vegas: Food, Farewells, and Flight

Our return journey was way much quieter. A visit to the Grand Canyon has that effect on you I am told. In the backdrop of the chatter of my cousins my mind went back time and again to the unforgettable views that I had the sheer pleasure of seeing. Anyway, life had to go on and the tummy is one which tells you about it loudly. We were all hungry and we found out about a Punjabi dhaba in Kingman. It was being run by a Sikh family with three generations of ladies managing the kitchen at a truck stop. Hot aloo parathas with curd and pickle packed in food grade containers in the middle of Nevada. That’s the kind of unexpected delight that lingers long after the trip.

Back at Harry Reid International Airport’s Terminal 1 departure hall, warm goodbyes and hugs were shared. My cousins left for Los Angeles while I was to fly out to the West Coast. I noticed the slot machines flashing by inside the airport right up to the boarding gates. It looked as if this city did not want anyone to leave without filling their pockets - or more often lose everything in it. Of course, only in Vegas. As the redeye flight lifted off, the Strip below shimmered one last time—like it was using psychedelic lights to bid farewell.  

Next stop: 

Skyscrapers, Solitude, and Subway Stories — Hello New York!