Santa Fe All Day

4/30/10 - Santa Fe:  At the first sound of meadowlarks, thrushes and house finches, my eyes fly open.  Ugh, 5:30 a.m.  I try to sleep in a little further since I see no light out, but it doesn't work.  I'm awake.  Might as well get the day started.

We're staying in a 100-year-old house with four apartments in it originally built for officers at the nearby fort.  These "casitas" are quaint and funky with plenty of room and a no-fuss rental policy.  Managed by Casa del Toro, they also provide an excellent and interesting homemade breakfast in the main home that serves as office and dining room.  We're only two flat blocks from the plaza, which is the best deal going for anyone who wants to stay in a home-like atmosphere near the center of town.

Time to explore again, so we set off to see the Virgin of Guadalupe Santuario, which is the oldest shrine to Our Lady in the entire country.  It was burned badly in about 1922 and was rebuilt.  A tiny museum just to the left of the altar area depicts the sanctuary in its various iterations through the years.  It's plain and simple and lovely in its way, with creaking old floorboards in the main structure.

A few blocks away is a legendary wooden staircase at the Loretto Chapel.  The staircase goes in two complete 360-degree spirals, is built entirely of beautiful varnished wood without the use of any nails.  Originally, it had no bannister and looked like the stairway to heaven, connecting the main floor to the choir loft.  A mysterious anonymous carpenter built the structure very quickly, according to legend, and then dispappeared. This, after much praying for help to build a staircase by the mother superior of the Order of Loretto.  It's beautiful and mystifies engineers and woodworkers alike as it is capable of holding a full choir of nuns -- There's a photograph in the gift shop to prove it.  We take a few zillion photos and browse the large gift shop.

It's cold outside and a brisk wind is gusting now and again.  A man selling woolen scarves and pashminas is doing a brisk business outside.  $13 and your neck is happy again, wrapped in soft wool.

We browse more small shops and buy some souvenirs and gifts.  Santa Fe is a very easy walking town, and it looks a rustic yet sturdy combination of cowboy western and adobe pueblo.  Riestras - huge bundles of dried red chili peppers hang from worn exposed beams of pine jutting from the building's brown plaster fronts.  The city is celebrating 400 years of history this very year.  It shines and twinkles when the sun comes out, but most of the time we are peppered with small "corn" snow that bounces off our jackets.  I feel like I'm in a big southwestern snow globe, very glad I have brought clothes I can layer to stay warm.  For once I packed really well and feel comfortable until the wind chills my face to a standstill.

As we're walking up and down the streets, The Monroe Gallery - one of many hundreds of galleries in the city - boasts a huge collection of very significant journalistic black and white photographs, many taken during the 60s for Life Magazine by Steve Shapiro.  It seems Mr. Shapiro was at virutally every single important moment back then.  We take some time to savor the images and appreciate the amount of history represented in them.

The Monroe has whetted our appetite for another gallery, one of the stars in the firmament of arts presentations available in the city:  The Georgia O'Keefe Gallery.  It is relatively small but displays a representation of the works of the artist throughout her life span of 99 years.  Three short films showing her life, philosophy and approach to her work are excellent and inspiring; you are invited to form your own opinions about her artistic statements and abstractions of her beloved New Mexico highlands.

Since the day is so cold, the gallery has attracted a healthy number of museum goers, and we are grateful as well to be in out of the wintry air, but we decide to leave after a good look at the collection so we can have lunch.

Right next door is the luscious and very sophisticated-looking O'Keefe Cafe where we have a roasted eggplant sandwich with a cup of creamy lentil soup.  We sigh and look around for St. Peter because we know we are in heaven.  It's top-quality food, robust and flavorful, layered southwestern zinginess combined with French classic recipes.

After a stop back at our funky casita right around the corner, off we walk to see the State Capitol building across town, a building shaped like the Navajo Sun symbol, much different in appearance than other capitol buildings I've seen in other states.  A short avenue leading to the building is lined with flowering mock pears and other spring blooms, very pretty in contrast to the official-looking cement and plaster buildings nearby.  Inside the atrium of the main building is an exhibit paying tribute to African-American people of note who have lived in New Mexico.  We learn about Esteban the Black who was one of the pre-eminent explorers, trackers and interpreters in the whole country, especially the southwest.  I'll bet you've never heard of him in your "accurate" history books, have you?  Neither had I.

Beyond the center of the state's government is a famous part of Santa Fe called Canyon Road, a long narrow winding road lined with galleries of all kinds, sculpture gardens and a few cafes sprinkled among the galleries.  Probably someone has counted all the places to buy art along the road, but I never saw the end of them.  It's fascinating to imagine all the creativity gathered into such a concentration - where do you start?  We walked about a mile along the road with one stop at Les Artistes, a tiny cafe boasting espresso, cappucino and tea.  Refreshed by a short stop there served by a friendly and amusing Frenchman, we find our way to the Santa Fe River and walk back to town along its rushing stream.

Back in the Plaza, we see that The Food Channel is in the middle of producing a new reality show for TV starring Tyler Florence in which it appears that five teams of contestants who happen to own speciality food trucks (aka "roach coaches) are competing for title of, well, they wouldn't tell us, but it's coming up this summer or fall probably.  Camera booms, sound guys, Tyler himself and a few dozen contestants cheering and yelling on cue were all busy making TV real.  Or reality into TV.  Something like that.

After all that walking, we need to take a real break and go to the Plaza Cafe, a well-established eatery that is both charmingly old fashioned, dating back to 1905, and so tasty that we forget all about everything except what is set before us.  Which is posole with pork, green chile and sopapillas on the side.  Good lord, it is so good.  One insanely good meal after another; you're right.  I begin to sing an aria, but stop myself just in time.  I am so hooked on green chile sauce now it's ridiculous.  I think it's the cold and the snow that put me in a mood to savor hearty food with tons of flavor.  I wonder how I've lived all this time without it.

Not to waste any opportunity to see a world-class museum for free, we take advantage of Free Friday and walk two blocks over to see the New Mexico History Museum, a new jewel in the crown of Santa Fe's array of museums and galleries.  It's state of the art and depicts the history of the state, a span of a few millenia including the ancient ancestors to modern-day Indians.

My feet are really barking at me now, so we stumble back to the casita.  Just as we arrive, one final show blazes across the western sky, a stupendous sunset with roiling and dramatic clouds and rays of light shooting across the universe.  A fluting wood thrush serenades me as I snap photos, just like he had at dawn this morning.  What a day; I am enchanted by New Mexico in all its changing glory, but I am really, really tired.  No complaints at all, not one.

High Road to Santa Fe

April 29 - Taos to Santa Fe:

Not that we'd really had enough of Taos, but it was time to get on down the road to Santa Fe.  The sky was gray and dark, threatening snow or rain, but we meant to be driving for a good part of the day, so we weren't too concerned.  As we left town, we drove to the famous church called San Francisco de Asis, which was closed.  The curving mudded walls of the church have been painted and photographed by every artist and photographer who comes through the region, so I joined ranks with them and took photos.  The wind was pretty cold and blustery, but dark clouds seemed appropriate as a backdrop.  I could smell pinto beans cooking nearby as well as the wonderful aroma of juniper smoke.

The High Road out of Taos circles east and south, following the route the Spanish people traded along and on which they established several churches 300-400 years ago.  As we drove, we climbed up into Ponderosa pine forests but were unable to see very much more than 20 miles away, surely a beautiful vista on clearer days.

First stop was at the Sugar Nymphs Bistro cafe in Penasco, a stop recommended by a friend.  One of the owners used to work at the famous Greens Restaurant in San Francisco, and the bistro gets raves.  They welcomed us as their first customers of the day with French press coffee and some almond honey cake.  We chatted a little while and were told to top at the Hand Arts Gallery two towns over.  Off we went.

We took a quick look at another old church in Trampas, closed like all the others.  We are here early in the season; in the summertime these places make themselves available for tourists as well as their own parishoners.  This particular church features interesting relics and icons inside that we'd hoped to see.  It's hundreds of years old and looks it, appearing a little tilted and very worn.

We found the Hand Arts Gallery with a bit of poking around in the high elevation artists colony called Las Truches.  From the outside, like all the rest of this helter-skelter collection of rough buildings, it looked like a house.  Inside is entirely devoted to displaying contemporary art pieces, all fine work from the look of it.  We enjoyed some conversation with the gallery owner and then were on our way again.  On finer days with warmer temperatures and the visibility New Mexico is known for, the vista from the hilltop where the artists are all inspired to work is stunning.  In the Fall, they are one of the stops on the High Road Arts Tour, which is said to be very popular for art collectors.

The clouds seemed to be clearing as we approached Chimayo, an ancient village in a more sheltered valley with a pretty stream running through.  La Santuario de Chimayo is a place that attracts as many as 40,000 people to its small rustic church on Good Friday every year.

Like Lourdes, miraculous healing has taken place many times, so the faithful come in their thousands to gather a small bit of holy dirt and pray for others or themselves if they are sick.  We spent a few hours touring the sanctuary, many makeshift shrines with holy candles, nearby small shops and streets.  After 400 years, the unique and special allure of the place is still strong.

On a bit of a whim, mostly due to the fact that we were ahead of schedule time-wise, we drove west about 30 miles to Bandolier National Monument to see some ancient cliff dwellings that were discovered there in the 1920s by an anthropologist studying the region.  Again, I was interested to discover that there had been an ancient volcanic blast that covered the region in thick ash for centuries.  The result is that hundreds of feet of the stuff solidified to porous, fragile rock.  On steep cliff faces in a subsequently formed canyon, the rock has zillions of caves now that have been formed by wind and water erosion.  Native people a few thousand years ago took advantage of the easy-to-carve rocks and built apartment-style homes with caves at their backs and left petroglyphs.

The park is actually about 33,000 acres, of which we probably saw only 300 or so in the main, flat area by the visitors center.  There is a gentle interpretive trail that was fun to walk along and look into kivas, caves and along the rushing creek that flows in the middle of the canyon's small valley floor.  It felt good to stretch our legs and there were very few visitors around, so we pretty much had it to ourselves.  The sun even peeked out and backlit the narrow-leaf cottonwoods lining the creek and blazed on the cliff face for a short while.

Taking one last look at the remnants of a very old, vanished culture, we got going again in the car and headed to Santa Fe in late afternoon traffic.

I don't know if I even have to say it:  Santa Fe is a beautiful and interesting city, unique among many such cities in the country.  It's celebrating its 400-year anniversary this year and never looked better.  Adobe-colored buildings in the pueblo style with vivid hues of blue and red trim line every street.  Cold, penetrating air chilled us quickly once we arrived at our "casita" just inside the so-called plaza circle of town.  Lo and behold, snow began to sprinkle lightly down.  I felt like I was in a Southwest Christmas snow globe.  Magical but chilly.

After settling into our little funky house with dark green and purple walls and the creakiest floors possible and layering several jackets, we walked briskly over to the plaza where I immediately began running around in circles trying to take in all the color and texture, which is actually impossible.  With every second, the sunlight changes intensity and direction, popping some new feature into high relief and stopping you in your tracks with its visual beauty.

We found The Shed one block away from the central plaza, got very lucky and were able to land a seat for dinner with only a 15-minute wait.  Dinner was roasted onion enchilada, posole and beans.  I guess I just can't get enough of it; I'm a green chile fan now, through and through.  Perfect food on a very cold evening.  There was a glowing and inviting small kiva-style fireplace in the front lobby space, burning juniper wood, distinctively fragrant, forever associated with Santa Fe.

Santa Fe, city of Holy Faith, was making itself felt even before we'd ever reached it.  The whole state should be called Santa Fe.  From the barely known Anasazi to modern-day faithful, many kinds of people find affirmation of the sacred in this region.  As we looked back on the day, layers of time, history and faith were woven all through it, ready to impart wisdom to us when we were ready to listen.