The next morning, I wake up late (7:30 a.m.) and try desperately to connect to the internet for about 2 hours
I give up, throw my ancient laptop out the window, it crashes to the freeway below (which comprises 85% of our lovely view) and start to write my blog.
Something I must complain about, besides the plethora of wolfen art, is our toilet.
Our doting porcelain god has about 1% water pressure.
Watching my goodies descend through the tiny abyss reminded me of watching a clogged bathtub drain.
I had many a panicky moment.
We do a little DVD yoga before starting our day, as everyone does on vacation, right?
I had my cell phone next to me so I could text away. Even Yogi masters agree this is always a good idea.
We have breakfast at this cute little locals spot called Tesuque Village Market. Vintage jazz is playing as we scarf down our carnitas and eggs doused in Christmas sauce.
At this point in the trip, I cannot get enough of food covered in chili sauce. This will soon change. 8 hours later.
We head to the Tesuque Flea Market to do some turquoise shopping.
As it’s located on a reservation, no cameras are allowed. I believe there’s something to do with stealing and souls, but not quite sure what. I can’t be bothered to ask, I mean I don’t really care.
First of all, turquoise is expensive. I always thought it was cheap and only my grandmother wore the stuff, but apparently I’m wrong.
We happen upon a tent filled with turquoise and leather belts in disarray and a cowboy walks up. When he speaks, however, he sounds like Paul Lynne!
“Girl, I couldn’t sell that to you for less than a hundy (hundred)!”
He’s quite knowledgeable about all his wares (crap) and I soon realize that I will never be able to afford to buy any turquoise or leather products.
‘Where’s the $5 table??’, I ask internally? I want to get fake turquoise for my family, but there doesn’t seem to be any.
What kind of world do we live in??
I see a bracelet that is somewhat manly in the $200 range, which is the cheapest thing I’ve seen so far.
I decide that if I don’t see anything better in a week, we’ll come back before we leave.
On Turquoise overload, we head to downtown, very brown Santa Fe.
For more turquoise shopping.
Pretty soon, I discover a pattern and that pretty much everyone is selling the same stuff. In the town square, Native Americans are lined up next to each other, reading books and hanging out, each with a blanket full of jewelry.
There obviously is nothing else worth buying in Santa Fe.
I want food and candy containing chili powder. That’s become my one mission.
Eventually I buy Jalapeno Jam’s, Red Chili Pistachio Brittle and Popcorn with green/red chili on it.
I’m in chili heaven.
I devour the chili peanut brittle in seconds and then dig into the popcorn like a drug fiend who’s just gotten his fix.
We head to this outdoor sculpture garden.
We stop and have a beer and some chips and guacamole at some restaurant overlooking the square.
As we walk back to our car, we realize many of the local musicians are playing the exact same Beatles song, “Let it Be”. A bit creepy.
Then we head home for a southwest nap. Covered in chili sauce.
For dinner, we drove to Pasqual’s, for which I had a reservation the PREVIOUS night. Oops. Turned away, we walk (in the wrong direction – have to turn around after 15 minutes) to The Cowgirl.
A fun, western-themed complex, Cowgirl is a Southwest BBQ joint.
I order the Mac and Cheese with Green Chili’s and Fried Chicken and Jalapeno Cornbread.
Just a light snack, however, this is pretty much my dream meal.
We start every morning doing Yoga to this DVD that everyone is quite sick of.
We move all the living room furniture to the walls and make fun of everything this woman is saying, quoting her favorite mantra “I have a great ass, I have a great ass.”
We spent the past two days exploring New Mexico’s natural wonders and relaxing. It was quite lovely.
Monday, we head out to Bandelier National Monument to visit the 10,000 year old ruins of the ancient Pueblo civilization. Quite impressive.
In addition to the stone foundations of their ancient homes, we get to explore the cliff dwellings, which was really cool.
They have ladders you can climb to the more impressive caves.
However, they were all currently inhabited…by loud children…
Not expecting to encounter this common, obtrusive species, we patiently wait as they wobble up the ladders speaking in foreign tongues, something along the lines of :
“Mommy, it’s too high up!”
We soon realize the best strategy is to dart ahead to another cave, where we find more children. We were befuddled.
As one little boy vacillates at the base of the ladder, I rush past him up the ladder at the speed of light (only partly to spite him) and look around the tiny 3 foot high cave, then scedaddle out in record time.
After we finish our hike, not seeing any of the promised petroglyphs (ancient Pueblo rock drawings) we set out on another hike that is supposed to take us to a waterfall and end at the Rio Grande river.
We hike through a wooded section, which smells incredible, and then we get to some treacherous cliffs where I pretend to slip several times, every time Louise shrieking at the top of her lungs “BRYAN!!”
We see the waterfall from a distance and decide we don’t need to continue to the Rio Grande.
Especially when an overly tanned British man with the shortest shorts known to man traipses up and says it’s not really worth it. “Just a bit of marsh, love, not much to see.”
Ok, I added the ‘love’ part.
That evening Thelma and Louise take me to dinner for my birthday at the quaint, upscale Pasqual’s. I see mole on the menu and mole I must have.
Everything here is organic and the waiter with the weird mustache is quite attentive…and probably organic himself.
He tells us we must go to Ghost Ranch.
Old home of vagina flower painter, Georgia O’Keefe.
So, tomorrow, we take his advice.