Santa Fe 2018

“I don’t go to Santa Fe anymore; it just isn’t what it used to be.” She was New Mexico born and bred, still lives in Albuquerque, and goes to Taos for what Santa Fe used to be.  I have been visiting Santa Fe for almost 20 years, and I have my own ideas of what Santa Fe is, and was: It is a city with many identities, and I don’t think it was ever what it used to be.

creative mornings (2)

In Santa Fe, I am Opie: I am open, I am kind, I listen.  It is an interesting persona for me, and for a few minutes out of their day, people can unload some part of their identities on a stranger who listens, who they will not see again.  On a whim I went to a Creative Mornings Santa Fe event.  The speaker was a physicist, and while he was interesting, it was the mixer before the talk that was stimulating.  I talked to Sharon for about half an hour: she  had seen someone fill in the name badge blank under “I’m curious to know about your . . . .” with “first love,” and she told me not about her first love, but about her last love.  A white woman who grew up in a tiny Hispanic village thinking she “fit in,” only realizing as she really grew up that she fit in only because of the kindness of her neighbors, and that then as now, she was never going to fit into her Hispanic lover’s world.

I think I fit in, until something happens that tells me I do not:  A look from someone who wonders what an Asian woman could possibly know about small town architecture, or multiple histories of settlement of the American West, or distorted symbolism(s) of the Alamo . . .  I think racism doesn’t apply to me, until it applies.

But then, on my last day in Santa Fe, a random act of joy:


A small act of inclusion and acceptance from a stranger.

In between, a thought-provoking interactive/immersive installation at the New Mexico Museum of Art: Pollination, by the art collective Postcommodity:


Enter a stall, insert token:


The shade goes up, and the show begins:


Nature, managed and controlled, not quite real, the object of desire in a land of little rain.


A Month of Halves

Half marathon on 4/20, half marathon on 5/5, half century (on our mid-life crisis da Vinci “Grand Junction” tandem) on 5/19:gjr1mIf we keep this up we may begin to think we are a fit couple 🙂

We drove down to Santa Fe this past week to take part in the Santa Fe Century, but we knew we wouldn’t be able to do the full 100 miles because we just have not had good riding weather through April and May for adequate training.  Santa Fe was doing its usual windy May thing, so we got going around 6 AM to avoid to worst of the wind later in the day.  Sure enough, every hour we were on the road the wind got worse . . . .  and worse . . . .

The first 10 miles or so were downhill, unfortunately it was also along Cerrillos Road, lined with fast food joints and motels.  The scenery improved after that, and became positively beautiful after we turned off Highway 14 onto the nicely paved Highway 42 (paved courtesy of the America Recovery and Reinvestment Act).  DH assured me that what I called uphill was in fact just gentle rollers.  Yes indeed.  The first food stop on the 50 mile loop was at Galisteo village, where a nice gentleman told us that we needed to turn back to Highway 41 in order to head back to Santa Fe.  A good thing to know, because had we gone the way we thought we were supposed to go, we would have ended up in Stanley and the 75 mile route — and I would have been one very unhappy stoker.  Galisteo to El Dorado was not fun: the road was narrow at first, and of course, it was uphill.  And uphill.  And after Lamy Hill, it was still uphill (DH had done the century route 7 years ago, but apparently forgotten about this gentle incline).  After which, we rode the last miles on I-25.  Nothing like being tired, riding into the wind dodging shoulder junk, with trucks roaring by at 70 miles an hour 😦

OTOH, we were done by 1030 AM, and boy was that breakfast at Zia Diner just the perfect post-ride meal!  20130524_143807Back home, the Poudre River is flowing!!

Conversation of the Day:

Me:  I like your soon-to-be AP English teacher!

The Teenager (looking very suspicious): Why?

Me: Now think about it.  Why would I like any of your teachers?

The Teenager:  Because they’re mean?