In the heart of the Mojave desert. An oasis, a city, a country. It’s like a world of its own. A world where nothing seems to make sense and where everything that makes life somewhat manageable, it challenged.

Describing Vegas is summing up any superlative possible. So let’s not go there and choose another summary. Insane, bizar, idiotic, possessed and briljant, all at the same time. The ultimate perfection of fake. There’s no such thing as impossible. If you look beyond the crazy, there is a mixture of ultra modern and old and decrepit.

Ok, Las Vegas may be an urbanisation with the worlds highest number of Diamond Class hotels. Even if that statement is self-proclaimed. Like too many places in the world, the vibes from the past are no longer felt. By now, I have concluded the same in a fair number of previous destinations. It is either I have a chronic nostalgia to a realm of a romanticised past, or romance has been replaced by a screen addicted society, social isolation and a spineless megalomania.

The King of Rock and Roll lives, accompanied by the King of Pop and… The Beatles, even if posthumously. All that is faked may not be perfect after all. Still, they are looking down on us from ginormous strategically placed billboards just like Penn & Teller do from theirs. Yep, they are still lying.

With great proficiency we manoeuvre our Jeep across boulevards, parkways, avenues and other eight-lane-wide roads which are connecting all districts in a tic-tac-toe-like pattern which is common in US cities. Shows are announced on street corners featuring celebrity stars which we believed to have migrated to star heaven or were slurping cooked-through chicken broth in Shady Pines.

Dionne Warwick, Barry Manilow, Rod Stewart and still going strong – drum roll – Mr. Las Vegas, Wayne Newton never stopped singing ‘Daddy, don’t you walk so fast!’.

The Rat Pack era is definitely history. Still, there is something to it. The way Americans picture Vegas as the city where anything is possible or permissible is almost amusing. What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas. Night Clubs, prostitution, legal weed. Then again, it may be more shocking that all that is everyday ordinary life in the Netherlands.

While the A/C is working hard and I burn my hands touching the wheel – it is at least 107 degrees outside – we are leaving Paradise and turn right on Flamingo. In the distance we spot the Hilton which shares the same name and where I left my footsteps 34 years ago. Back then there was no High Roller soaring 550 feet above the Strip. As with every Vegas event, it is also considered the ‘World’s largest’.

We are closing in on the Bellagio. Famous for its fountain shows – without doubt, the largest in the world. Then a right turn on to ‘The Strip’. When you look to the left, there is Ceasar’s Palace, to the right, The Linq, including indoor zipline. Or as they prefer to say, ‘An adrenaline fueled & electrifying skyhigh experience’.In our rear view mirror, the MGM Grand, the Luxor and a bunch of other landmarks.

With limited time and ample choice there is but one thing for us to do. “Bear left, and then, turn left in 200 yards”, the satnav lady is showing us the shortest route to ….Las Vegas North Premium Outlet Shopping Centre !

With one day left, Vegas can not be crossed off without visiting at least one of the grandiose hotels. Strolling along ‘The Strip’, or officially Las Vegas Boulevard. We dive into Fashion Show Mall. What is shopping without visiting one of the Apple Stores. Yep, LV has more Genius shops than we have in the whole country.

Across the street proudly stands, the Palazzo. Its entrance – where else – on Piazza San Marco, including bell tower. Flanked by Italian designer boutiques we parade along the banks of the Grand Canal. Gondoliers who are not bothered by any charm or temperament, are stroking their wobbly barque through the waterways. And then at last, we are in ‘The Venetian’. Again, San Marco square, but now indoor. Like being on a USA Network series, the ceiling shows a bright blue sky with just a couple of vicious looking gulls. While feeling the urge to light a sigaret I became awkwardly aware of not being outside but inside a hotel!

All terraces are packed and lines have formed for Italian Gelato. Which are sold at genuine Venetian prices. On stage, a trio is performing Rigoletto. We continu following the canal until we reach the Rialto bridge. No wooden stalls or stairs covered in pigeon poop here. Instead, an electric travelator. There is no sense in getting tired.

On the way back, we hop into a Casino. Even here the screen society has taken over. Digital LED screens have replaced the good old one-armed-bandits. The well-oiled rattling fruit slots now sound like programmed beeping and clicking. For a moment I am watching a bored old lady staring at a colorful led-screen while investing her 401k in cigarettes and virtual betting games.

It is time we call it a night. We turn our backs to sin and reunite with our wannabe-off-road-buggy who has loyally waited under the Eiffel Tower.

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