After Carlsbad Caverns, we drove North. We thought it would be fitting to view the Supermoon in Roswell, but there were huge cloud banks obstructing the view, so we pressed on to Albuquerque. We woke up to a massive sandstorm, just a few minutes outside left us with dry, red eyes, so we booked it North to Santa Fe. We reached in the evening, just in time for happy hour at La Boca. We drank Cava and Sherry and ate truffle and egg bruschetta and fried almonds. We made friendship with Teo, a local photographer and discussed installation art, Derek Jarman, and Christian Marclay: The Clock. We caught the setting sun in the central Plaza, and stopped in for another drink at the gorgeous Anasazi Hotel. We eavesdropped on local artists chat with visitors in town to buy new art, throwing out names to find common links.
Did you know that, besides being the oldest state capital in North America, Santa Fe is one of the top three largest art markets in the country? Neither did we! An art lovers paradise. Every shop is a gallery, even the old churches and chapels gift shops were filled with original artwork. The whole city is built of Adobes, earth colored and supported with thick, dark wood beams. Some of the buildings, Palace of Governors, where all the Native Indians sit and sell their wares, were built in 1600!
We started our day at the Museum of Art, a spectacular pueblo revival built in 1917. The building itself was more impressive than the collection it held, so we headed over to the Loretto Chapel, home of the miraculous staircase. Truly. . . a miracle. Built in Gothic style by French architects 1870, as was customary, the choir loft had no staircase. The loft was usually reached by ladder, but since the Chapel was built for an all girl's mission, the nuns held a novena for the help and money to build a staircase for the girls. At the end of the novena, a carpenter appeared and offered to build a staircase. He built the elegant spiral staircase with only a hammer, a saw, and hot water to bend the wood. It has no nails or center support, and only its perfect craftsmanship keeps it aloft. Architects, to this day, marvel at its construction. After the carpenter finished, he packed up his tools, and disappeared without word or payment. It is really something special.
We then crossed over to St. Francis Cathedral, to see the original altarpiece from the original Mission on the site in 1625, which houses The Conquistadora, the country's oldest Madonna (she has 200 outfits). Nicole got bored and wandered outside to walk around the intriquite maze embedded in the stone piazza. Mom wandered around looking at the stained glass and happened across a wooden crucifix of Jesus, with real hair. Real human hair! Bright red, and curly. Apparently, once a year, the most humble and worthy parishioner gets to donate his/her locks. Yup.
We took our buddy Robert's suggestion and had lunch at the Shed. Sat at the bar, right next to an artist we had seen the night before at the Anasazi. He told us about the new Native Indian copper ring he had sought out and bought. The couple next to him were in town from Los Angeles to buy some art and they engaged him to speak about his work. So, we chatted with the girl to the right, Tania Sanchez, a writer. Art people everywhere.
After burritos and enchiladas and margaritas, we hopped the bus up to Museum Hill. We didn't have a lot of time before close, so we split up. Mary Lou went to the Museum of Indian Culture and Nicole went to the Museum of International Folk Art, which was like a giant toy room, filled with over 10,000 folk artifacts from over 1,000 countries. It was a really happy place.
Then, we celebrated an hour that was happy, at the Loretto Inn, another beautiful adobe hotel. We had some more New Mexican sparkling wine by the fireplace, under the giant ram's skull. We soon called it a night, so we could be up early for our next big day.
Topless road trip to Taos! Wheeee rented a convertible, and headed up the low road into Georgia O'Keefe's country. Mary Lou was never a huge fan of Georgia's landscapes with those silly polka dotted hills. But, guess what? They really are like that! Polka dots. It was like we were driving through her paintings!
We stopped at the Rio Grande Gorge Bridge, the fifth highest bridge in the United States. The Native Indians that were selling Kachina dolls and jewelry by the bridge told us that, just two days before, and a few days after the nuclear crisis in Japan, a nuclear scientist from Albuquerque parked his rental car right in the middle of the bridge and then jumped off. 650 feet down to the Rio Grande River. Ouch.
We had lunch at the Stray Dog Cafe at the bottom of the slopes in Taos Ski Valley, stopped in a local cemetery, crawled under some barbed wire to find an ancient sandstone cave, and visited a few more old missions along the way. We drove off into the sunset. . . back to Santa Fe.
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