A lot of detail about my trip

I'm at the Albuquerque Airport - I mean, Sunport, as it is really called. Anyway, one important outcome of this trip is that I can now confidently spell "Albuquerque." That's new.

It feels like I have been gone many weeks, have walked many moons, etc. It's weird, because my trip turned out not really how I thought it would, but so much better. Although I did have a few footwear issues, my fears of the previous post did not materialize. Instead, I accomplished a lot at the retreat (which seems like forever ago now) - I felt good about my writing, met very cool people, and realized that I like being in a place with really good-smelling air. After the retreat, which was at Pretty Fancy Place just outside of the city of Santa Fe, I went into the city and dropped my new friend Jenny off at the super gorgeous, amazing, and fancy-ass inn/resort where her friend worked and so where she was staying for cheap. After touring the grounds, opening the door to the eucalyptus steam room, drinking fruit-infused water in the lobby, and learning about the place's rich history, including a resident ghost, I moved on to my accomodations, which can only be described as a motor lodge with plastic-y bedspreaded rooms. Oh well. It was within walking distance to a lot of bars, you know? So way better, really.

I had major culture shock in Santa Fe. It seemed like just super-expensive shops and galleries, older, wealthy tourist ladies in vaguely southwestern-themed clothing, and ultra-exclusive-everything. Ugh. I hung out there Sunday night, when I got in, and just wondered where the real people like to go. I had dinner at the fancy inn with Jenny and her nice friend, Maggie, then wandered around more, and I decided to go on a road trip the next day. I got up early and took the "high road" to Taos (as opposed to the quicker, less scenic (so they say, but it's also amazing, I found out on my way back) "low road"), stopping at little towns and sights along the way. Dude, it totally changed my feelings about the whole area. It was so beautiful, the whole way. I loved the little towns, which were so not glamorous in any way, although they have been somewhat artified as galleries have moved in. No matter; these towns are just so lovely in their way. One place I stopped was Chimayo (accent over the o), home to the Santuario de Chimayo, with its supposedly healing dirt. I got there at 9:00 am, which is when it opened (yes, I hit the road early this day), and as I went through the church, I just felt so scared. I have always been scared of religious things. This was just full-on creepy. There were bleeding Jesus images everywhere, in all types of art media. There was a wall of crutches that people had left after rubbing the holy dirt on their legs and being healed. There were offerings - photos, baby shoes, crosses made of twigs - all over the church and grounds. Whoa. It was seriously frightening to me, although I guess I can't explain why. Supernatural things are just creepy to me, I guess. OK, anyway, the dirt is in this little room off the main chapel. You have to duck through a low doorway, and then you see the hole in the concrete floor. Down in the hole is the miracle-giving dirt, with plastic sand shovels stuck in it. If you bring your own container (or buy one for $2.50 in the gift shop), you can get some for yourself.

I hadn't brought a container.

I loved the town of Chimayo. It is also known for its weaving, although I have the wool thing and so couldn't get into that. ("The wool thing" refers to an allergy). I just liked driving the windy mountainous little roads and seeing the half-falling down houses, which I don't mean in a demeaning way. I find that far more beautiful than big, new houses. There were tiny, nicely signed restaurants and art galleries stuck in here and there. A dog growled at me and prevented me from going into one local artist's place. The local artists aren't rich people from Santa Fe. They are people who live there and are supposed to, and also make art, and, in some cases, have mean dogs.

To speed things along, I will say that after leaving Chimayo, it was one incredible "blink and miss it" town after another. I eventually wound my way to Taos, had lunch at an outdoor burrito place, and felt an almost immediate need to get out of Taos. Also arty, rich, expensive (although later I'd change my mind about this). I went to Taos Pueblo. It was the best part of my day. I looked around, took a tour, talked for a long time with a super cool woman who lives on the pueblo and makes paintings, soap, etc. (see picture of her painting), ate fry bread for the first time, and got drenched in a sudden thunderstorm. The artist was concerned that her teenager daughter only wears black these days, and I was able to talk her down on that. I felt comfortable enough that I could ask her what she felt about all these tourists (like me) hanging around the place where she lives. She said she got upset at some ladies the day before who asked her how she goes to the bathroom, but that for the most part people are sensitive and that she can't remember it being any other way. I read that tourists sometimes think that the pueblo residents going about their daily lives is some kind of re-enactment, for their tourism pleasure, when in fact they are actually just cooking their food/getting their water/etc. I guess my thing is that I do some reading beforehand, you know?

After getting soaked at the pueblo, I drove to the Rio Grande Gorge bridge. It is a bridge of some distinction, and you can walk across it and look at the deeply cut gorge below. There were thunderstorms all throughout the area - I could see them in the distance at that point - and the wind made me a little reluctant to lean to far over the railing of the bridge. It swayed like crazy when trucks went over. I normally don't have a height worry, but I guess I do have a thing about falling into a gorge. I got back in the car and drove further on, to the Earthship settlement, where I learned all about these super sustainable homes built of old tires and cans, and with all kinds of off-the-grid features. It was actually quite beautiful. I liked going from the pueblo, which has been there for at least 800 years, to the super-futuristic earthship. Past and future actually had quite a lot in common.

Still not ready to go back to Santa Fe, I instead drove up, north of Taos, to Arroyo Seco. I loved this little town, at the base of Taos Mountain. Beautiful and small and cool in a not-too-arty way. I met a nice older cowboy-like gentleman who welcomed me to town and was very disappointed that I wouldn't be able to make the Fourth of July parade. He gave me his business card, which indicates that he is or aspired at one time to be a New Mexico senator, and said that next time I'm in the area, I should call so that he can show me around on horseback. I gave him my email address, swept up in the friendliness of it all, and he has already emailed me, lamenting that he could neither show me around on his horses this time nor welcome me to the Fourth of July parade.

Finally, I went back to Santa Fe, had dinner at the Cowgirl Hall of Fame place, which was pretty cool, and then met up with Jenny and Maggie for music (Maggie is an awesome musician) and drinks at Jenny's hotel.

The last full day in Santa Fe, Jenny and I walked around, went to the Georgia O'Keeffe Museum, which I have long wanted to go to, sat by the pool at her hotel (although she had already checked out - so rebellious!), and drove up a mountain to 10,000 Waves, the super fantastic Japanese-style spa, where we used the Women's Communal Bath. Oh my god. It was a heavenly rotation of hot bath, sauna, cold plunge; hot bath, sauna, cold plunge; lie around on the deck; repeat. I felt so good after that. If I lived there, I would be there all the time.

We went to Albuquerque (see, I know how to spell it) that night, got a hotel room near the airport. Jenny left early the next morning, but my flight wasn't until afternoon, so I went to Old Town Albuquerque - disappointing, since again it seemed to exist solely for tourists. I hung out just long enough to eat a bowl of grilled vegetables with salsa and guacamole, then left for the Indian Pueblo Cultural Center, a museum. I liked that a lot. There was an exhibit focusing on seven prominent Pueblo women artists, and their work was lovely.

Later: Airport. Change planes in Denver. The closer I got to Detroit, the worse things got. The seat in front of me broken, forcing my knees into my lower lip, practically. The guy across the aisle clipping his nails and letting the clippings float through the air like confetti. Super crazy turbulence. Lost luggage.

Finally, got the luggage back. Got my phone in proper working order (I had to get a new one in NM and they programmed it in such a way that I could see that I had messages, but couldn't get to them). Normalized my food and alcohol consumption (both of which were super high, like the elevation of Santa Fe). Made a laundry pile.

Now my trip sort of seems like a dream.

(will add photos later)