from france to vegas and back again
A week of jet lag, airports and exploring my new favourite city in the world
Never in my life would I have expected Las Vegas to become one of my favourite cities in the world, but my recent visit proved me entirely wrong. I returned from a five-night stay in Sin City last week with four new tattoos, a significantly dwindled bank account and a new-found appreciation for this restless, extravagant town.
In the past, I’d always pictured Vegas as a tacky getaway for hedonistic adults, a booze-and-hookers wonderland where you’re certain to lose all of your money and dignity. In truth, it can be that if you want it to be – but otherwise, it’s a strangely beautiful city with plenty of redeeming qualities.
Even when we touched down after an arduous ten-hour flight, all of us fatigued but excited, the mere sight of the Strip from the plane windows took my breath away. Here it was, in all its glistening glory; the Luxor, with its beam of light shining directly towards the stars; the Strat, towering above its surroundings; and the countless neon signs beckoning us to come and explore. For me, this was my first time in Vegas as it was my husband’s, but we were travelling with my family for my cousin’s 21st birthday and some of them had been here two, perhaps three times prior. Regardless, we all felt that same exhilaration upon touching down.
It didn’t take long for Vegas to open itself up to me. On our first full day, we took Ubers to the Strip with a mission to explore as much as physically possible. I had heard from multiple people that the city was much bigger than we perhaps expected, and those people were correct – upon arriving at the Wynn, our first port of call, I was immediately struck by the scale of each building and the Strip itself. It seemed to stretch for miles, various architectural wonders peering out upon the skyline in the far distance.
We sat and had brunch at Happy Camper, a pizza joint and sports bar located a stone’s throw from the Wynn. After bingeing on chicken strips from the Chick-fil-A in our hotel, the Golden Nugget, and then rapidly falling into a food coma the night before, I wanted to take it easy and opted for a salad (perhaps for the first time in my life). As we sat underneath a canopy of disco balls, the Spring Mountains providing a cinematic backdrop past the northern end of the Strip, I realised Las Vegas has so much more to offer than what I’d anticipated.
Oh, and the salad? The best I’ve ever eaten in my life, although the view may have helped.
We explored the Strip over three separate days, taking our time to explore the labyrinths within each hotel. The Wynn was our first, which may have been unfair to its neighbours considering the sheer extravagance of it. The building, an elegant, curved copper skyscraper, hides wonders such as dynamic floral gardens and art installations from the likes of Jeff Koons, alongside the most upscale mall you’ll ever see. Stores such as Gucci and Bottega Veneta boast their own gardens here, floor-to-ceiling windows opening up to cascading waterfalls to add to the allure. This alone could have entertained me – and bankrupted me – for the next four days, but the Wynn is the most expensive hotel on the Strip by a country mile, perhaps for good reason. That’s why we chose to stay off the beaten track, opting for Downtown Las Vegas instead.
There are between ten and twenty main properties in the centre of the city, and we almost conquered them all. There was the Venetian, with gondolas sailing down artificial canals below a ceiling painted with clear blue skies, Caesars Palace with towering Greek statues adjacent to the Cheesecake Factory, and New York New York, where we were thrown around a 230-foot-tall roller coaster that passes through the building’s replica landmarks and given the bruises to prove it.
The most bizarre of them all was the Luxor, built in the shape of an Egyptian pyramid with a jet black facade. The interior of the hotel has rooms cascading towards the pinnacle of said pyramid in an upwards slant which, for someone with anablephobia that kicks in whenever they look up at tall or massive buildings, was a genuine nightmare. A true feat of engineering, sure, but I can sadly never go back!
One night, my husband and I decided to explore more of the Strip by ourselves. We strolled through what felt like the biggest casino in the world beneath the Cosmopolitan, gambled a few bucks in Paris and found ourselves at the nearby flagship Taco Bell for dinner. I’d wanted to try the authentic, greasy American Taco Bell since I was a Tumblr-addicted teenager, so I racked up $40 on two burritos, two tacos and some sides for good measure. The discomfort I felt afterwards, trying desperately to find the rideshare bay in the sweltering desert heat, could have put me in the hospital – but it was made worth it with a fleeting look at the magnificent Bellagio fountains on our way. No matter how many times you’ve seen it on the big screen, it takes your breath away in real life. Again, this city showed me just how beautiful it truly is.
The true highlight of Las Vegas for me, though, is Downtown. The Golden Nugget sits at the heart of Fremont Street – the ‘original Vegas’ – which is covered by a 1,375-foot screen, showcasing vibrant, trippy images of blue skies, lasers and even hourly concerts from the likes of Shakira and Tiesto. This part of the city truly never sleeps, as I found out after emerging at 6am for a cigarette in the sunrise, walking past people throwing dollars into slot machines and sipping their frozen cocktails from Fat Tuesday.
We spent a good portion of our time here, whether it was enjoying the pool in the Nugget, stepping over to Fremont Casino for a Dunkin’ Cold Brew in the morning or spending all of our money in Circa, which became our favourite casino in Vegas. I walked over to Cannastarz, a dispensary a few blocks away, and allowed the affable girl working behind the counter to guide me on what to get. Her recommendation hit the spot – I’ll never forget having a few tokes as the sunset beat down on me and then gliding back through Fremont, high on Blue Dream and soaking up the palpably joyous atmosphere.
That’s another thing people might not tell you about Las Vegas – it’s the friendliest place I’ve visited in a long time. Compared to my fleeting stay in London the night prior to this trip, where we encountered one too many miserable, unhelpful people (who can blame them when you live in the UK), each person we spoke to came equipped with entertaining stories, manners and a friendly, welcoming attitude that made our stay all the more fun. I’ll even remember our Uber drivers, including the one that pulled a microphone out of his glove compartment when my mum started singing along to the radio, the one with the infectious laugh that fell into fits of contagious hysterics whenever my stepdad cracked a joke, and especially the woman who, upon getting cut up on the road back to our hotel, exclaimed: “Darling, you are in a Kia. I am in a Tesla.” She got a big tip.
I’ll cherish those five days in Las Vegas for the rest of my life. We packed in so many unforgettable memories, like shooting M4 assault rifles in a sweaty shooting range, flying down the Fremont Street zipline a la Big Freedia and covering ourselves in $10 tattoos from Koolsville, that I feel immense gratitude for having a family I can do things like this with.
Since we arrived back in the south of France, the rain has been coming down heavily and the clouds have hung thick and grey. I’ve been mostly sequestered in the flat since Saturday; as someone who suffers from seasonal affective disorder and extreme restlessness when they’re bored, it isn’t the ideal scenario. I keep holding my hand out from the balcony, testing the air to see if there’s enough time for a quick walk, watching the cars pass by and waiting to see if their wipers are on so I can catch a brief respite from my cabin fever. Alas, the time hasn’t come – but if my phone’s weather app is to be trusted, brighter days are on the horizon.
I can’t be too down, however, as I’m still riding a Vegas high. I’d never been too eager to visit Sin City, but I’m pleased to say that it is so much better than I could have ever imagined, and it has become one of, if not my favourite city in the entire world.
et bien plus
I finally registered my Visa, which means I can officially call myself a French resident! As part of the requirements to stay here, I have to undertake intensive language lessons. That sounded daunting to me at first, but after a local teenager swore at me for being an ignorant Brit after asking me for directions, I think it’s for the best. Allez!
Like the rest of the world, I was captivated by Baby Reindeer last month. It’s an extremely effective, disturbing and unique piece of television, and I commend Richard Gadd for his bravery in putting his trauma on display in such an unflinching manner. What I don’t like, however, is how people have unearthed the real woman Martha is based on. Without giving her identity away, I have seen screenshots of her Facebook ramblings in the wake of the show’s premiere, and it’s as troubled as you may expect. Guys, did you watch the show? Let’s use our brains! Leave her alone!
In terms of what I’m listening to, I still have to make it through the entirety of Taylor Swift’s new album. I’ve heard it in fragments – first when iHeartRadio played it in full on the radio during our cab ride from the airport in Vegas on the night of its release. I then tried to finish it on the plane home a few days after and fell asleep. Whether that speaks on the quality of the album or not, I’m not sure – but I can definitely say Fortnight is my favourite single from her in a very long time. Elsewhere, the Maggie Rogers album is continuing to blow me away, as are the new singles from Mabel, Normani and Christine and the Queens. My spring playlist is below if you’re interested in what else I’ve been rinsing over the past few weeks. This has been a fantastic year for music after a considerable drought, and I love how exciting it feels.