We saw the state of vacation in middle America.
We saw an entire flock of whooping cranes, turning about high above us, appearing and disappearing as if they were a neon sign flashing on and off. There must have been a hundred of them, and then there weren't, and then there were. Quite eerie.
We saw a great hole in the ground, grateful for the dripping coolness of the stalactites and stalagmites on what was an extremely hot day.
We saw a series of round-abouts connected through a town obsessed with trolls. They were 'charming Norwegian heritage' in the guise of wooden carvings outside businesses, banks, shops, and the Mustard Museum.
We saw a Norsk golf course.
We saw a water-park filled with German tourists, arrayed like a flock of peacocks of enormous girth and breadth, having the time of their lives. They gave us joy.
We saw army boats and lost canyons, horse trails and a water ski amusement whose big finale was a laser show choreographed to that ghastly Lee Greenwood song. Our second national anthem, apparently.
We saw a house perched on a high rock, and the famous architect's home.