Land of Enchantment

“I was warmed by the sun, rocked by the winds and sheltered by the trees… Now I can eat well, sleep well and be glad”           – Geronimo

Determined to plan a new diversion, we place pins on a map of possible vacation locales and eagerly book airfare. After 10 years, we return to Santa Fe in anticipation of immense skies, Southwestern food, art, opera, countless hiking trails, and flowering sage etched in muted copper of the high prairie.

After claiming our causally packed possessions (sandals, shorts, and light fleece) at carousel 3 of the Albuquerque gateway, we are Northbound in a peppy red Mazda 2, at 75 MPH. An hour sprint across the high desert of the Sandia Range, and our spirits expand as the immense blue New Mexico firmament opens to us. Incongruous tribal casinos along Interstate 25, boasting every native Pueblo, are of little interest – we are Breaking Bad for 12 days into the heart New Mexico!

First stop is Santa Fe’s relaxed Central Plaza for instant immersion into local Western atmosphere. Hunger dictates we postpone a survey of turquoise jewelry shops and eclectic lunch temptations dotting old town – we crave comforts offered at the Plaza Café [www.santafeplazacafe.com]. Under the capable management of the Razatos family since 1947, they fuse Greek Diner traditions with “methods and flavors of New Mexico.”

Appetites assuaged, we set out to scout our vacation cottage, 10 minutes out of town, nestled in the hills of Tesuque Valley. Lisa has exhaustively researched an ideal accommodation, but ya’ never know until you cautiously approach your new ”digs” and confirm fit and feel. We follow sky-sent directions that wind though dug-in homes camouflaged amid the mesquite and adobe. The door is left open for us. We are silently greeted by muted tones, vistas opening to mountains and sky, and comfy furnishings that fit us like an ole’ shoe. Instant feng shui!

We procure necessities from Trader Joe’s and we are set for our stand in this guesthouse adjacent to the home of a local modern art dealer. Exhaling into the high desert stillness, we are at home taking in the balmy, silent breezes, sipping Snapple, feet up on a scruffy coffee table stacked with mags and books. Later, after midnight, the “laughter” of coyotes is counter-point in the lonesome desert soundtrack.

Our menu of Santa Fe’s abundant attractions requires discerned ordering: hiking trails, galleries, restaurants, opera, Japanese spa, cafes, and random explorations. Relaxing is hard work!

Each day begins, after toast and tea, with long hikes through  painted canyons, thirsty arroyos, or old ranchero trails. This is a record summer for rain – fragrant green and beige flora enjoy the surprising August nourishment.

Our afternoon touring returns us to Canyon Road and its’ tributaries, where gallery visits and cottonwood shaded cafes dissolve hours into evening.

Southwestern food is hard to resist in this setting, and following a simple request to our “foodie” landlord for recommended cantinas, we were guided to a vast array of gems: Café Pasqual’s (www.pasquals.com) in town center is an education in fresh indigenous “foods from similar latitudes”; Salvadorian themed Tune Up Café (www.tuneupsantafe.com is a study in neighborhood casual; Tesuque Village Market, in our ’hood and close to the Opera, homogenizes a crowd of Texas socialites and buzzed run-a-ways. Each venue satisfied in their own eccentric way. Our chili challenged mid-age digestion demanded Pepcid AC as evening’s nightcap.

Local musicians are featured in the Plaza Bandstand most nights during the summer. This is truly a slice of Americana in the heart of Santa Fe: aging hippies (grey ponytails abound), shaggy kids, barking dogs and Native American townsfolk sashaying joyously, without inhibition, to the electric twang of Western music.

After 9 days, we took a side excursion (journey to another planet?) to Taos for a few days. The landscapes, iconic Southwestern dwellings, and sampling of people seeking life at the far boundaries, brand Taos as otherworldly.

We discovered a delightful “primitive” painting at a collective gallery in Truchas (alt. 8021), in the mountains overlooking Espanola. Our chosen accommodation in Taos was El Pueblo Lodge, which preserves the spirit and substance of the 50’s. The women running the motel couldn’t have been more welcoming or accommodating. Towels are provided if you require a wipe down of your Harley after a dusty cruise.

We were unexpectedly moved by a chance visit to a once private Vietnam Memorial in Angel’s Fire (along the Enchanted Circle Drive), founded by parents who lost a son in that conflict. It focused the war in very personal ways – glasses worn by soldiers in 1965, film clips of POW’s paraded in the streets of Hanoi, and memories of America’s divisive reactions to another foreign military adventure.

A highlight was a dawn hot air balloon ride across the awakening sage-covered expanse of the Rio Grande basin. Our pilot and cowboy guides provided insights into riding the winds, living on the high desert, and forging a life in an ancient and still mysterious land.

Click on any Pic to open photo carousel: