Arizona: Only in America. It is a place of impossible natural beauty, filled with nature-hating things. I wish I’d been able to pitch my tent there before everyone left the suburbs and decided to start their lives anew and indoors in Arizona.

Thanksgiving weekend I saw more Hummers than I have collectively seen in all my years, and I’m counting ads as well as real-life Hummers. Most of them are Colgate white, and I have it on good authority that when it rains once a year the Hummer drivers slow down to go through puddles.

In addition to paying out the ass for gasoline, the people of Arizona pay huge electricity bills to air-condition their desert homes through the 115-degree summers. It may be the Northern California in me talking, but it seems a lot cheaper and more efficient to put solar panels on the roof, especially considering Arizona has the perfect sunny climate to fuel them. But those solar panels might clash with the Hummer parked in the driveway. Better to stick with the $500 monthly electric bills and continued draining of natural resources.

Also in Arizona there are communities where people ride around on golf carts. There are offical yellow traffic signs alerting you to this, as if it’s a common spot for deer crossing or cattle grazing. I know I should not laugh at retirees and that if I’m lucky enough to be that old, I might enjoy carting around the desert on three-lane city streets as well. Another transportation tidbit: the public transit system in one of these townlets is called SCAT — that’s Sun City Arizona Transit. There are actual signs and schedules that say SCAT Connection.

Sunsets are amazing in Arizona, as are the cacti. I’d forgotten how much I love a desert landscape (which is more like moonscape). I love the big-sky feel and the painted-on clouds and warm weather and did I mention how much I like being outside? We did three hikes and a dash of camping. Saturday we rented a boat at Lake Patagonia and stayed for the night. Row-in camping is like hike-in camping, only you row a boat across the water to get away from the people in the RVs. Row-in camping allows for rowdier tequila-drinking and quesadilla-making opportunities. I fully support row-in camping.

There is a place in Tucson called Hotel Congress which I insist you visit for breakfast, lunch or dinner should you be in that locale. The Dillinger Gang stayed there. A talkative waiter named Travis will serve you food. If you’re lucky enough to get a room that isn’t above the stage or drum kit, you should stay the night.

I realize I’m writing about Arizona the way some people write about their trips to the South. Arizona feels more than a time zone away from my home state. I am still chipping away at why I felt like an alien for four whole days despite having a great time. Like many of the red states, I wanted to yell out to the citizens of Arizona (and especially the people in the Hummers and omnipresent sand-colored Cadillacs) “What is going on here?” But I didn’t. I ran back to San Francisco with the memories.