Jeanette and I recently (early May of 2009) vacationed for the first time in New Mexico. It was just about five weeks after I had rotator cuff surgery so I couldn’t drive and was still a tad weak. On Monday (thanks Dennis M. for the airport drop-off), we flew into Albuquerque at around noon and rented a car to drive up to Santa Fe. The drive was uneventful but the distant mountain scenery was majestic … peppered by nearer-by American Indian casino after Indian casino. Our destination was Bishop’s Lodge, a classy resort and spa a little north of the city. This turned out to be an ideal choice as it was quiet and solicitous … although I couldn’t avail myself of its many amenities. We were famished since no palatable food was offered on Northwest Air so, after unpacking, we set off to the nearby Tesuque (a local Indian tribe) restaurant, it having been recommended to us by our daughter, Rebecca (who was at this same locale one week prior, in fact staying in the same room at the Bishop’s Lodge.) This was also a good choice for its ambiance, margaritas and enchiladas … all putting us into a Southwest mood. It’s a little like a neighborhood bodega, bar, pizza place, restaurant rolled into one with a funky wait staff and lots of locals. Of course, it became an instant favorite that we returned to several times during our trip.
The next morning we “did” Santa Fe … starting out at its farmer’s market near the train station where we had a bite of breakfast … good coffee and day-old pastries. The market was a little sparse at this time of year, mostly notions, potions and long strings of chilies. Jeanette bought a few designer soaps for her office mates. There were also many (expensive) mescaline lettuce mixes which seemed surprising to me until I realized a few days later that salads were the food of choice in this burg. In fact, I think Santa Fe should be re-christened the “Salad City.” We next found our way to the International Folk Art museum where we had to wait for its 10:00 AM opening. The highlight of this museum is the Girard collection (in a separate wing), a mass of over 10,000 folk art items (one might even say tchotchkes) from around the world. Even though not all of these items might be considered great art, together the incredible numbers of them are overwhelming … there are dioramas with literally hundreds, if not thousands, of individual hand-made items. We took a docent tour of this wing which is highly recommended since none of the exhibits have any textual accompaniment. We next went downtown Santa Fe and viewed the magical spiral staircase at the Loretto Chapel – supposedly built without external supports by an iterant carpenter. It is basically a beautiful wooden spring that has, since its construction, been augmented for safety’s sake by internal steel supports. We next visited the Georgia O’Keefe museum to view a fairly complete synopsis of her love affair with the photographer, Edward Steichen, and Santa Fe. There were her famous labial flowers, her bleached-out desert skulls, her New York street scenes, and her Southwestern landscapes. I think I liked her generally unheralded landscapes best of all (see above). That night we ate again at Tesuque.
The next day we took the compulsory trip up to Taos – the art and skiing mecca of New Mexico. I say “up to” even though my researching on the internet says that Taos’s altitude is below that of Santa Fe’s. I didn’t realize that the altitude of Santa Fe was so high – 7,000 feet … which is much higher than that of Denver. Even Albuquerque, into which we flew, is at 4,958 feet high … slightly above Denver. Taos, where we traveled that day is listed at 6,952 feet above sea level … although; I think it is actually much higher, since it was there that I got a touch of altitude sickness … a cold sweat and shakiness. (And Los Alamos is the highest at 7,300 feet, but I didn’t get ill when we went there since it was a day later and I was more acclimated to these higher altitudes). We took the “high road” (Rtes 78, 518, etc.) to Taos (more head scratching here) and along the way we stopped at Chimavo where there is a church that is supposed to offer a healing dirt. This is a very interesting locale as it is festooned with literally thousands of makeshift crosses attached to trees, fences, and altars. Apparently the dirt must work … at least in the minds of the supplicants … since there are so many of these testaments to its healing powers and even many crutches left behind by those cured. Jeanette thought that this rustic church was one of the most beautiful she had ever seen … and she has seen quite a few. It was rough-hewn and decorated with much religious folk art (assumedly American Indian). I must admit its decor was charming. Even though I write cynically about this healing dirt – found at the bottom of a small pit in a church anteroom – we nevertheless brought back a small container (anyone want some?) Considering the amount of dirt that is carried away (one Mexican couple took about a peck of it), it must be replenished nightly from some less sacred source. There was also a raging river that runs nearby this church which is very impressive given the very arid nature of the surroundings.
I must confess that Taos itself was a bit of a disappointment. My expectation was for a tree-lined, well-manicured hamlet, much like Monterey, California. Instead we entered Taos on a four-lane highway flanked by Arby’s, Home Depot, McDonalds, and the like. The downtown itself is a little more charming … its air filled with many white puffs of cottonwood seeds … but still not up to my expectations. We ate a respectable lunch at the Taos Inn and then did some souvenir hunting at the many small shops in town. There is a lot of bad art in Taos … including in the museums. We did go to one of the better museums, The Harwood, and saw a few good pieces and lots of schlock. The upstairs exhibit featured not Edward Hopper but Dennis Hopper (think “Easy Rider”) whose art and photos were just a cut above the typical street art. It was about this time that I started to get woozy from altitude sickness so Jeanette drove me down to Santa Fe via the “low road” (Rte 68). Along the way we stopped at Buffalo Thunder, an Indian casino where Jeanette won $30 and I lost about $23 playing the nickel poker slots. Then we ate dinner at Gabriel’s, right north of Santa Fe on Rte. 84, where they served delicious margarita’s and made guacamole right at your table (hint: if you are just two people, ask for a half order). It was here and then that we heard, via cell phone from his brother, of the death of our dear friend, Russ Seymour. We drank a toast to him with our already-ordered margaritas. I don’t think we will every drink another one without thinking of Russ.
The next day we went to Los Alamos with a side trip to the Nambe pueblo (on its own reservation). Jeanette had an obsession about seeing pueblos until we realized that many were not ruins but actual small Indian living-and-breathing villages. This was the case with the Nambe pueblo. It was like driving into an adobe condo parking lot with signs warning “No Photos”. We quickly left there and drove on toward the Nambe waterfalls (same river that flowed by Chimavo). Noticing many 25 MPH speed limit signs, I urged Jeanette to be careful as I suspected that this was a source of revenue on this American Indian reservation. We eventually got to a toll gate before the water falls where we were notified that to proceed would cost $10 per person plus $5 for the privilege of taking photos. We quickly U-turned and slowly crept back to the main road. We then were finally on our way to Los Alamos. It’s a long drive up to this town with some nice scenic overlooks. Los Alamos itself is, I believe, prettier than Taos. We first went to another farmer’s market with many of the same sparse offerings. Then we ate at the Blue Window Bistro, a nice pick with lots of healthy menu choices.
Almost across the street we then visited the Bradbury Science Museum. (It is not named after Ray Bradbury but an early director of the Los Alamos Laboratory.) This is a must-see (and free) tourist destination that is worth a number of hours of reflective browsing … and don’t forget to watch the many short movies about the history of the town, the development of the Atomic bomb, and what the Laboratories have been doing since the signing of the Nuclear Test Ban Treaty – fascinating. They even have life-sized models of the bombs dropped on Hiroshima (Fat Man – uranium 238) and Nagasaki (Little Boy -- plutonium). But also take time to view the dozens of other informative science exhibits. Before leaving Los Alamos, we visited, on the advice of our son, George, the Black Hole, a bizarre shop with thousands of government surplus items from the Labs. (It is a little hard to locate, but certainly unique.) If you are electronically inclined you could also spend hours here. When we entered I asked if they had a surplus thermo-nuclear device. They didn’t find me funny. Interesting side bar – if you look up to the mountains surrounding this area you’ll see thousands of tree trunk spikes … the result of a controlled burn about 20 years ago that got out of hand destroying this forest and much of this section of town. Back in Santa Fe we enjoyed another cocktail hour of margaritas (we had previously bought the tequila and mix) and salsa chips. For dinner we went once again to Tesuque.
The next day, Friday morning, we went to a local flea market which was mostly devoted to Indian crafts – rugs, turquoise jewelry, woven baskets, etc. Jeanette did the circuit while I did a more leisurely stroll through a much smaller set of those booths being set up for the weekend. While visiting one booth I witnessed the following exchange – a bleached-blond woman of a certain age was inspecting some rugs when she asked an Indian up on a ladder (“Native American” to my PC friends), “Is this rug Indian … I don’t mean Indian, but (gently slapping her open mouth with her palm) woo-woo Indian.” The man on the ladder suffered this insult in stoic silence. We then went to Bandelier National Monument as Jeanette wanted to see a real ancient Indian pueblo. The road to Bandelier duplicates much of the way to Los Alamos, but eventually gets even more scenic and breathtaking. Again feeling a tinge of altitude sickness, I stayed behind watching an informative movie while Jeanette hiked up to the ruins. She said it was quite dramatic although she declined to climb the 18 ladders to the very top of the pueblos. On the way back we stopped again at Buffalo Thunder and donated a few more dollars to the tribe. Again to our room for our cocktail hour and then we went back downtown so that Jeanette could light some votive candles at the St. Francis Cathedral to our grandson, Stanley; Jeanette’s brother, Leo; our recently departed friend, Russ; and his son, Daniel. We ate a sumptuous dinner at the nearby restaurant, The Shed. Recommendation: make reservations first and also ask for any sauces on the side … they are very spicy.
Our last full day there, Saturday, we went to the Pecos National Monument, another pueblo that had been abandoned in the early part of the last century. It was recommended to us by someone we had met at the Tesuque restaurant (another salad eater). This pueblo had been donated to the U.S. government by that old actress Greer Garson and her husband. They must have also left an endowment because it was sumptuously maintained. I must confess it was not a highlight of our trip although I did enjoy a guidebook description of the early days of a dude ranch in the Pecos canyon. And on our last night there, after our in-room cocktail hour we ate a most delicious prime-rib dinner in the Bishop’s Lodge dining room. It was quite reasonable … they even comped us on our wine. We went to bed early since we had to get up early for our 8:30 AM flight out of Albuquerque. Unfortunately the Inn dropped the ball on our wake-up call so we were rushing all the way to catch our plane. (Fortunately, Jeanette had heard the birds singing and realized we had been forsaken.) Daughter Rebecca picked us up in Boston and deposited us back in Natick. Thank you again Rebecca.
The next morning we “did” Santa Fe … starting out at its farmer’s market near the train station where we had a bite of breakfast … good coffee and day-old pastries. The market was a little sparse at this time of year, mostly notions, potions and long strings of chilies. Jeanette bought a few designer soaps for her office mates. There were also many (expensive) mescaline lettuce mixes which seemed surprising to me until I realized a few days later that salads were the food of choice in this burg. In fact, I think Santa Fe should be re-christened the “Salad City.” We next found our way to the International Folk Art museum where we had to wait for its 10:00 AM opening. The highlight of this museum is the Girard collection (in a separate wing), a mass of over 10,000 folk art items (one might even say tchotchkes) from around the world. Even though not all of these items might be considered great art, together the incredible numbers of them are overwhelming … there are dioramas with literally hundreds, if not thousands, of individual hand-made items. We took a docent tour of this wing which is highly recommended since none of the exhibits have any textual accompaniment. We next went downtown Santa Fe and viewed the magical spiral staircase at the Loretto Chapel – supposedly built without external supports by an iterant carpenter. It is basically a beautiful wooden spring that has, since its construction, been augmented for safety’s sake by internal steel supports. We next visited the Georgia O’Keefe museum to view a fairly complete synopsis of her love affair with the photographer, Edward Steichen, and Santa Fe. There were her famous labial flowers, her bleached-out desert skulls, her New York street scenes, and her Southwestern landscapes. I think I liked her generally unheralded landscapes best of all (see above). That night we ate again at Tesuque.
The next day we took the compulsory trip up to Taos – the art and skiing mecca of New Mexico. I say “up to” even though my researching on the internet says that Taos’s altitude is below that of Santa Fe’s. I didn’t realize that the altitude of Santa Fe was so high – 7,000 feet … which is much higher than that of Denver. Even Albuquerque, into which we flew, is at 4,958 feet high … slightly above Denver. Taos, where we traveled that day is listed at 6,952 feet above sea level … although; I think it is actually much higher, since it was there that I got a touch of altitude sickness … a cold sweat and shakiness. (And Los Alamos is the highest at 7,300 feet, but I didn’t get ill when we went there since it was a day later and I was more acclimated to these higher altitudes). We took the “high road” (Rtes 78, 518, etc.) to Taos (more head scratching here) and along the way we stopped at Chimavo where there is a church that is supposed to offer a healing dirt. This is a very interesting locale as it is festooned with literally thousands of makeshift crosses attached to trees, fences, and altars. Apparently the dirt must work … at least in the minds of the supplicants … since there are so many of these testaments to its healing powers and even many crutches left behind by those cured. Jeanette thought that this rustic church was one of the most beautiful she had ever seen … and she has seen quite a few. It was rough-hewn and decorated with much religious folk art (assumedly American Indian). I must admit its decor was charming. Even though I write cynically about this healing dirt – found at the bottom of a small pit in a church anteroom – we nevertheless brought back a small container (anyone want some?) Considering the amount of dirt that is carried away (one Mexican couple took about a peck of it), it must be replenished nightly from some less sacred source. There was also a raging river that runs nearby this church which is very impressive given the very arid nature of the surroundings.
I must confess that Taos itself was a bit of a disappointment. My expectation was for a tree-lined, well-manicured hamlet, much like Monterey, California. Instead we entered Taos on a four-lane highway flanked by Arby’s, Home Depot, McDonalds, and the like. The downtown itself is a little more charming … its air filled with many white puffs of cottonwood seeds … but still not up to my expectations. We ate a respectable lunch at the Taos Inn and then did some souvenir hunting at the many small shops in town. There is a lot of bad art in Taos … including in the museums. We did go to one of the better museums, The Harwood, and saw a few good pieces and lots of schlock. The upstairs exhibit featured not Edward Hopper but Dennis Hopper (think “Easy Rider”) whose art and photos were just a cut above the typical street art. It was about this time that I started to get woozy from altitude sickness so Jeanette drove me down to Santa Fe via the “low road” (Rte 68). Along the way we stopped at Buffalo Thunder, an Indian casino where Jeanette won $30 and I lost about $23 playing the nickel poker slots. Then we ate dinner at Gabriel’s, right north of Santa Fe on Rte. 84, where they served delicious margarita’s and made guacamole right at your table (hint: if you are just two people, ask for a half order). It was here and then that we heard, via cell phone from his brother, of the death of our dear friend, Russ Seymour. We drank a toast to him with our already-ordered margaritas. I don’t think we will every drink another one without thinking of Russ.
The next day we went to Los Alamos with a side trip to the Nambe pueblo (on its own reservation). Jeanette had an obsession about seeing pueblos until we realized that many were not ruins but actual small Indian living-and-breathing villages. This was the case with the Nambe pueblo. It was like driving into an adobe condo parking lot with signs warning “No Photos”. We quickly left there and drove on toward the Nambe waterfalls (same river that flowed by Chimavo). Noticing many 25 MPH speed limit signs, I urged Jeanette to be careful as I suspected that this was a source of revenue on this American Indian reservation. We eventually got to a toll gate before the water falls where we were notified that to proceed would cost $10 per person plus $5 for the privilege of taking photos. We quickly U-turned and slowly crept back to the main road. We then were finally on our way to Los Alamos. It’s a long drive up to this town with some nice scenic overlooks. Los Alamos itself is, I believe, prettier than Taos. We first went to another farmer’s market with many of the same sparse offerings. Then we ate at the Blue Window Bistro, a nice pick with lots of healthy menu choices.
Almost across the street we then visited the Bradbury Science Museum. (It is not named after Ray Bradbury but an early director of the Los Alamos Laboratory.) This is a must-see (and free) tourist destination that is worth a number of hours of reflective browsing … and don’t forget to watch the many short movies about the history of the town, the development of the Atomic bomb, and what the Laboratories have been doing since the signing of the Nuclear Test Ban Treaty – fascinating. They even have life-sized models of the bombs dropped on Hiroshima (Fat Man – uranium 238) and Nagasaki (Little Boy -- plutonium). But also take time to view the dozens of other informative science exhibits. Before leaving Los Alamos, we visited, on the advice of our son, George, the Black Hole, a bizarre shop with thousands of government surplus items from the Labs. (It is a little hard to locate, but certainly unique.) If you are electronically inclined you could also spend hours here. When we entered I asked if they had a surplus thermo-nuclear device. They didn’t find me funny. Interesting side bar – if you look up to the mountains surrounding this area you’ll see thousands of tree trunk spikes … the result of a controlled burn about 20 years ago that got out of hand destroying this forest and much of this section of town. Back in Santa Fe we enjoyed another cocktail hour of margaritas (we had previously bought the tequila and mix) and salsa chips. For dinner we went once again to Tesuque.
The next day, Friday morning, we went to a local flea market which was mostly devoted to Indian crafts – rugs, turquoise jewelry, woven baskets, etc. Jeanette did the circuit while I did a more leisurely stroll through a much smaller set of those booths being set up for the weekend. While visiting one booth I witnessed the following exchange – a bleached-blond woman of a certain age was inspecting some rugs when she asked an Indian up on a ladder (“Native American” to my PC friends), “Is this rug Indian … I don’t mean Indian, but (gently slapping her open mouth with her palm) woo-woo Indian.” The man on the ladder suffered this insult in stoic silence. We then went to Bandelier National Monument as Jeanette wanted to see a real ancient Indian pueblo. The road to Bandelier duplicates much of the way to Los Alamos, but eventually gets even more scenic and breathtaking. Again feeling a tinge of altitude sickness, I stayed behind watching an informative movie while Jeanette hiked up to the ruins. She said it was quite dramatic although she declined to climb the 18 ladders to the very top of the pueblos. On the way back we stopped again at Buffalo Thunder and donated a few more dollars to the tribe. Again to our room for our cocktail hour and then we went back downtown so that Jeanette could light some votive candles at the St. Francis Cathedral to our grandson, Stanley; Jeanette’s brother, Leo; our recently departed friend, Russ; and his son, Daniel. We ate a sumptuous dinner at the nearby restaurant, The Shed. Recommendation: make reservations first and also ask for any sauces on the side … they are very spicy.
Our last full day there, Saturday, we went to the Pecos National Monument, another pueblo that had been abandoned in the early part of the last century. It was recommended to us by someone we had met at the Tesuque restaurant (another salad eater). This pueblo had been donated to the U.S. government by that old actress Greer Garson and her husband. They must have also left an endowment because it was sumptuously maintained. I must confess it was not a highlight of our trip although I did enjoy a guidebook description of the early days of a dude ranch in the Pecos canyon. And on our last night there, after our in-room cocktail hour we ate a most delicious prime-rib dinner in the Bishop’s Lodge dining room. It was quite reasonable … they even comped us on our wine. We went to bed early since we had to get up early for our 8:30 AM flight out of Albuquerque. Unfortunately the Inn dropped the ball on our wake-up call so we were rushing all the way to catch our plane. (Fortunately, Jeanette had heard the birds singing and realized we had been forsaken.) Daughter Rebecca picked us up in Boston and deposited us back in Natick. Thank you again Rebecca.
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