It certainly is not the Miami skyline. Not with all of that asphalt and the noticeable lack of water.
But Reno has a scenic attraction of its own. Like Katisha from The Mikado whose left elbow people came miles to see.
I am accustomed to the look. Neither Bend nor Salem are good-looking towns. From the air, they appear almost unfinished. But it is their surroundings that people remember.
For Salem, it is the Willamette Valley and the surrounding mountains. For Bend, it is the in-your-face grandeur of the Cascades.
Reno is a bit different. Sure, there are the foothills of the Sierra Nevadas. But the local attraction is its horizon-defying desert and the nearby hidden (at least from Reno) treasure of Lake Tahoe.
Nevada is now my legal residence in The States. I guess it makes me a tax exile, but it is what passes for home these days. Without one, drivers' licenses are impossible to obtain, voting is difficult, and having an American credit card would be a chimera. That is why I traded the Western Meadowlark for the Mountain Bluebird.
And I will be trading the bluebird for the golden eagle on Friday afternoon when I start my trek south in a rather convoluted path. From Reno to Boise to Portland to Los Angeles to Manzanillo.
Where the skyline of Barra de Navidad will be a welcome sight.
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