They are so proud of their capital city in the state of New Mexico, they put their elaborate shield on their mundane trash cans:
My relationship with New Mexico has been a mixed bag over the years, which is a polite way of saying I don't think much of the place. I spent time in Gallup during a snowstorm with a broken VW Westfalia van, and learned how poverty looks on a cold fall day in Indian country. I tried to find the soul of Las Cruces on one of my many trips along Interstate Ten and found a big yawning chasm. I rode through Taos in 1992 on a motorcycle trip from Key West to Santa Cruz, California and practically missed the town entirely. Taos, like Sedona Arizona, is considered a spiritual center for those of the animist persuasion, but its a spirituality buried under an adobe veneer of crass commercialism. I watched a man in a pick up abandon his dog on the freeway in New Mexico and I couldn't, to my chagrin, persuade the dog into my car, it literally slipped through my fingers to a gruesome fate in the desert. Like I say, New Mexico and I don't get along.
Imagine my surprise when my good friend Bruce and his wife Celia announced they couldn't stand the mosquitoes anymore and were relocating from Key West, where they lived on their boat, to Santa Fe, the city of the Holy Faith, the capital of dreadful New Mexico. They bought an adobe home several centuries old, renovated it and settled in. They seemed to like the place. So after a few years of this madness my wife and I got on a plane last Saturday and flew to Albuquerque. Bruce drove us up the freeway to Santa Fe, a city of 75,000 people at 7500 feet above sea level (2450 meters), nestled in an enormous plain in the shadow of the Sangre De Cristo (Christ's Blood, bless the melodrama of Catholicism!) Mountains, still snow capped last week. That Catholicism comes through loud and clear downtown where the cathedral is dedicated to Saint Francis of Assisi, one of Umbria's most famous exports. The best known saint from the least known Italian region:
Bruce is a retired engineer and Celia is a retired teacher, both spent their lengthy careers in Northern California and they both take delight in the Spanish state of mind that predominates in Santa Fe. They tell stories of bubbas in Santa Fe, the old Spanish families, that are similar in many respects to the death grip bubba families have on politics in Key West. The city is pretty enough, if you like adobe, with a grassy central plaza in front of the church and bless us everyone, they have the residentially challenged cluttering up their downtown too!
And though the New Mexican newspaper doesn't boast a Citizen's Voice anonymous column, if it did I have no doubt someone would be complaining about the lack of action by Santa Fe's finest:
"The longer you stay here, the more similarities to Key West you'll notice," Bruce said dryly as we walked the plaza in the 80 degree sunshine while the wives shopped. It sure is pretty, the La Fonda (not La Concha) hotel:
There is a sunset viewing platform from the tower at the top of the building but they don't look out over any harbor that I know of. We took a night tour of the lobby and it is quite fantastic, rococo in the New Mexican style of elaborate tiles and heavy wooden ceiling beams and desert Indian art works. Adobe is how New Mexico dresses itself, much of it real mud and wattle some of it simply a veneer. But it does make the architecture refreshing even on something as silly as a MacDonald's on the commercial strip in "new town" ( or the local equivalent):
In the heart of the city, the original Palace of the Governor, the Palacio, is the oldest public building in the US, dating back to the 1600's. Nothing faux about that. Nowadays it is the location of the daily Indian art market. The local native Americans (they call themselves Indians, what do I know?) bid, at some ungodly hour of the morning for the right to spend the day spreading their wares on blankets under the portico of the Palacio:
For such a major holiday it wasn't terribly busy over Memorial weekend. How do I know? Well that would be because my wife went there more than once. She got some nice artwork too from a camera shy artists who grinds up the pebbles she finds near her home and renders them into pure colorful sand for her pieces. One of these too will join our Haitian, Dominican, Key West, etc etc stuff on our walls:
The Indians were a cheerful bunch, relaxed sales people, and some of them offered expensive jewelry for sale. "Beyond our price range" my wife said, as she reluctantly put down a particularly enticing arrangement of silver and stones. "Oh go on," I said to encourage her to splash out on her self. This was after all the woman who pushed me to buy a brand new Bonneville, what can I say? "No," she said firmly. "What's our range? " I asked, "Not $2200" she said. Case closed. There were lines of men standing around behind their women under the portico, waiting as the women meandered and shared and explored. Bruce and I went looking for other buildings:
Or the Georgia O'Keeffe museum:
Which was unfortunately showing a joint exhibit of O'Keeffe along with Ansel Adams, a photographer whose pictures leave me as cold as the shades of gray he preferred. For some reason this museum, which owns much of the late artist's work, doesn't have a permanent exhibit of her works, so I got to see very little of her paintings which was something of a disappointment. They do show an excellent 12 minute film about the artist which I found fascinating and it included some footage of Herself (she died in 1986). The film explored her relationship to the photographer Stieglitz, her husband, who portrayed her early on in an erotic light that made her shy away from publicity in later life.
Or the Georgia O'Keeffe museum:Which was unfortunately showing a joint exhibit of O'Keeffe along with Ansel Adams, a photographer whose pictures leave me as cold as the shades of gray he preferred. For some reason this museum, which owns much of the late artist's work, doesn't have a permanent exhibit of her works, so I got to see very little of her paintings which was something of a disappointment. They do show an excellent 12 minute film about the artist which I found fascinating and it included some footage of Herself (she died in 1986). The film explored her relationship to the photographer Stieglitz, her husband, who portrayed her early on in an erotic light that made her shy away from publicity in later life. I kept noticing newspaper sellers around the city, appearing to take their lives into their hands by literally setting up shop in the middle of the road.
It turns out its some sort of rehab program and these corners are assigned and jealously guarded by the sellers.
It turns out its some sort of rehab program and these corners are assigned and jealously guarded by the sellers.Santa Fe has lost its purpose over the centuries, once it was the center of Spanish government in North America, then it was the end of the Santa Fe trail which led all the way from Kansas, then it became the home base of nuclear development at neighboring Los Alamos and now its a tourist center. We come, we photograph Burro Alley where laden donkeys used to line up with their loads of wood, immortalized in bronze:
Bruce and Celia eat out all the time and they showed us several eateries that made a pleasant change from the known and familiar in Key West. Chili peppers are a huge component of Santa Fe cooking and most foods come with the offer of "green, red or Christmas?" which prompts a joker like me to want to shout out "Passover!" just to confuse them.
The offer actually refers to the color of the chili salsa with Christmas referring to a mixture of red and green chilies. Bruce says chili roasting season is a very festive time in Santa Fe, but it comes later in the year with itinerant roasters passing through town.
Bruce and Celia eat out all the time and they showed us several eateries that made a pleasant change from the known and familiar in Key West. Chili peppers are a huge component of Santa Fe cooking and most foods come with the offer of "green, red or Christmas?" which prompts a joker like me to want to shout out "Passover!" just to confuse them.The offer actually refers to the color of the chili salsa with Christmas referring to a mixture of red and green chilies. Bruce says chili roasting season is a very festive time in Santa Fe, but it comes later in the year with itinerant roasters passing through town.The other big flavor in cookery New Mexico style is the pinon nut which is like a pine nut but more flavorful. Bruce told me that when the season kicks in during the summer the roads of New Mexico are lined with cars stopped on the shoulders while their occupants frantically pick nuts in "forests" like this:
Pinon showed up in enchiladas and meatloaf, pizza and pancakes. Those blue corn pancakes at the Plaza Cafe were divine:
Real maple syrup, friendly staff, locals stuffing their faces and all in the middle of the tourist part of town. Key West, the city that loves to hate its visitors, should be so lucky to boast such an eatery- and plates of food for seven dollars.
Pinon showed up in enchiladas and meatloaf, pizza and pancakes. Those blue corn pancakes at the Plaza Cafe were divine:Real maple syrup, friendly staff, locals stuffing their faces and all in the middle of the tourist part of town. Key West, the city that loves to hate its visitors, should be so lucky to boast such an eatery- and plates of food for seven dollars.Bruce and Celia like Santa Fe despite its freezing winters and limited (by their standards) shopping. It's too cold for me and too isolated because the surrounding state is pretty much at the bottom of the economic ladder. I do not find poverty ennobling, but the historic residential district a few blocks from the plaza is pretty as all get out:
All this adobe stuff is cute enough to look at which is lucky and it is pervasive. I kept expecting to see the kepis of the French foreign legionnaires popping up over the walls. Fort Zinderneuf anyone?
I know the gaps are a crude form of rain spout but they look much more like battlements than gutters.
All this adobe stuff is cute enough to look at which is lucky and it is pervasive. I kept expecting to see the kepis of the French foreign legionnaires popping up over the walls. Fort Zinderneuf anyone?I know the gaps are a crude form of rain spout but they look much more like battlements than gutters. At home Bruce and Celia enjoy the benefits of the adobe wall which surround so many homes in this city:
And the company of a rare breed called Bernese Mountain dogs which seem perfectly adapted to the environment of Santa Fe:
Nice enough in its own way but where I ask myself, is the ocean? Bruce and Celia are martyrs to mosquito bites and high humidity. I'm horrified by a dry climate, my hair turns to straw, my skin cracks and my nostrils fill with razor sharp lumps of...oh never mind, lets just say dry mountain air is not my cup of tea. Santa Fe was cute though and the other parts of the state we visited were picturesque too. Very much so, especially as I don't have to live in Truchas or Las Trampas. I know another visit is in my future if only because my wife wants to take a long slow walking and shopping tour of old town Santa Fe. For that reason if no other we'll be back, and to eat Christmas on our tacos.
And the company of a rare breed called Bernese Mountain dogs which seem perfectly adapted to the environment of Santa Fe:Nice enough in its own way but where I ask myself, is the ocean? Bruce and Celia are martyrs to mosquito bites and high humidity. I'm horrified by a dry climate, my hair turns to straw, my skin cracks and my nostrils fill with razor sharp lumps of...oh never mind, lets just say dry mountain air is not my cup of tea. Santa Fe was cute though and the other parts of the state we visited were picturesque too. Very much so, especially as I don't have to live in Truchas or Las Trampas. I know another visit is in my future if only because my wife wants to take a long slow walking and shopping tour of old town Santa Fe. For that reason if no other we'll be back, and to eat Christmas on our tacos.