It was The Whip-In R.V. Park. Yep! For sure, that's the name, and it was clean as a whistle, and had a perfect space for us. Our host, owner and major domo, a small, a bit smoker-wrinkled, sixty-something, sun darkened skin, and anxious as a flea on a shaved dog's back. She engaged Pat right away, and in between phrases: "park just over there; it's $25; Yes we have WiFi; and the trash dumpster is to your right; no charge for the WiFi." She was anxiously pouring out her story to Pat. "My husband, who just bought this park three years ago, is a diabetic, has congestive heart failure, and is on dialysis three times a week; feels cranky 'cause he's so sick; wants to do his work in the park, but can barely get out of his chair; and our son is dying of cancer in Kansas! And they don't speak, his father and him!" Whew! Pat hung in there with a great ear and empathetic patience. We listened, doing what we could to affirm and comfort, but, damn, life ain't fair!
On to Albuquerque and a visit with another of Jon's first cousins, Betty Lawyer, picture above. She was so excited to see us, as we were to see her, and she, in her generous style, had fixed up a dinner to die for, and of course insisted that we stay the night and have time to visit. We did, and being with Betty was great. Her house is so tastefully done, and her patio and garden are abundant with herbs,
tomatoes, basil, good things to taste and enjoy. Of yeah, most of you don't know that Betty is legally blind! A blind beauty -- sans beast.We also visited the New Museum of the Rio Grande Pueblos. Beautiful building! Great shops full of certified for-real jewelry, art -- pottery, paintings, fabrics; and a museum that takes you underground for a wonderfully done series of galleries of each of the Rio Grande Pueblos, filled with household goods, clothing, hunting equipment, bead work, art, material goods, and an informative history of each group. Definitely worth doing.
After a delightful breakfast with Betty the next morning, we were on our way to Santa Fe. We went there on our honeymoon ten years ago, and this time we took the back road, through the not-village of Golden. You have to keep your eye out, and even so, we overshot it, but turned around 'cause you can't miss it! Jon had stopped there thirty-two years ago, on the advice of an anthropologist who had worked extensively in New Mexico. Way back in '76 he bought a non-dyed, Navajo rug, and a funereal urn from Acoma Pueblo. Still with the same family, their daughter now running the business, but in an newer building, their authentic goods were still most impressive. Pat found a creche and nativity figures made by a local artist that will add new shades to that story in our house this Christmas.
Santa Fe, home of sun, art, beauty and -- tourists! Just like us! Lots of them! What are they doing, crowding up this place like Black Friday crowd at WalMart! We lucked out with a parking spot right on a corner in the heart of downtown. While Jon was taking care of the meter, Pat walked into Fisher's, the shop right in front of where we parked. It turned out to be the premier pottery shop in Santa Fe. Mata Ortiz, Acoma, a large collection of Maria's pottery, and items from many others -- we had to pretend it was a museum. Over the last fifteen years or so the Acoma and Mata Ortiz pots have become hot. Acoma artists have largely switched from an Anasazi black on white style to fine point geometric patterns, many with textured surfaces. The best are, among
We went up the street to Indian Feather Collection and met Annette Dupre. Annette was very informative, and pointed out their particularly strong collection of Acoma pots, helping us discern the differences in style, craftman/woman/ship, patterns and artists. Jon talked with her about our few modest pots, including a Hopi seed pot he purchased at the Kayenta Trading Post. He was worried about it because the paint was beginning to fade a bit. "Oh," she reassured him, "that means it is now worth much more, because all the new ones are done with acrylic, synthetic paints. It means it really is old!" Wow! It helped Jon not buy anything!
Well, we strolled the old square, visited the stunning, beautiful cathedral on the square, went to the oldest church and the oldest house, finally stopping for lunch and a glass of wine on the deck of a trendy lunch place downtown.
But we had to have one last look at Fisher's pottery shop. Jon engaged one of the experts and asked to see the Maria collection. She opened the case and we were shown the three stages of Maria's work: her work with her husband, her son, and her daughter, Santana. We have one of those Maria/Santana black pots at home! We were pretty sure of this before, but this very helpful person confirmed that, if what we described was accurate -- the signatures, the size, the specific style -- it was, indeed, a Maria. Thanks to Pat's Mom and her late friend, Marge, who bought this in the 1970s, probably in Santa Fe, we have a gem in our tiny collection.
On to Taos, where we met up with our friends Orlando and Yvette Ortega at their eponymous restaurant, Orlando's. What a great couple! We met them and their children in Sayulita, Nayarit, Mexico and have enjoyed their positive spirits and good company over the last three years. Their restaurant, on the far north end of Taos, specializes in Northern New Mexican cuisine. We had lunch together, and Orlando saw to it that Jon had a gluten free lunch, but with enough wonderful spicing on his pulled pork to keep everything interesting. They then invited us to their home that evening for dinner, where we would see their kids again and also meet Orlando's parents.
Was it a great omen, or just a wonderously beautiful moment? On the way, we saw the brightest, fu
llest, clearest moon rising over the San Juans and Taos Mountain, right between two peaks! Stunning, excited we pulled into their home, and they, too, were out looking at the same wonder.
llest, clearest moon rising over the San Juans and Taos Mountain, right between two peaks! Stunning, excited we pulled into their home, and they, too, were out looking at the same wonder.Speaking of beauty and wonders, the Ortega's home is about six miles north of town, near Rio Hondo, and is set back from the road on a big tract of land, complete with a running stream, pond (it had been a marsh!) and a grand true-to-Taos styled, adobe-like house. Beautiful, rich deep hues of blues and greens, ochre and yellows, reds and even purple (daughter's room!). A trombe wall radiates winter sunlight into central heating. Satillo tile throughout and great Mexican tiles in the baths and in the way-up-to-speed kitchen. The living space is generous, spacious and welcoming.
Orlando's parents were more than guests -- they were fascinating. His Dad spent his career with the U.S. Park Service, so they lived all over the U.S., which also provided a very stimulating series of environments for their two sons. His Mom saw the La Foret bottle of wine we had brought, and said that part of her family had come from France, also. Mistiso! We are all mixed, Ola! In addition to being a great conversationalist, Mom cooked, including a special meal for Jon, and we engaged in a wonderful, exciting sociable experience until well into the evening. We look forward to seeing the Oretga's again in Sayulita this winter.
The next day was the first day of the Taos Balloon Festival, with over forty balloons taking part. That Friday thousands of us came to watch as the pilots and crew lit up and took off, lifting up their local sponsors for a once in-a-life-time ride. So we signed up for an early lift off for the next morning, and arrived at 7:30 AM on Saturday to meet the crew: Pilot Ed, who looked like Glen Campbell, and his senior aid, veteran Dave, along with four other passengers: the dean of arts and science at Texas State, a professor of journalism teaching in Texas, and a couple from Houston where he is an english literature and rhetoric professor. You could tell there was an education conference going on in Taos!
Up, Up and Away, In Our Beautiful Balloon! -- whose name was Jellybean. It was a joy ride, an uplifting experience (ha, ha!) our once in a lifetime adventure. Floating among other balloons at 3,800' feet, surrounded by sky, mountains, the Taos valley, the Taos Pueblo, the Rio Grande Gorge: it was breathtaking, still, peaceful and exciting.
But then you have to land the darn things! Well, Ed, aka Glen Campbell, sighted a pasture, but it had horses in it, and he told us that horses can be spookey around a balloon. Well, the two horses did notice us, and indeed, ran around with tails flagging, showing their excitement. Nevertheless, we gently landed in a pasture of a Taos restaurateur, made peace with the horses, and dodged the road apples. Everyone helped roll up the balloon; everything, caboose and all was hydraulically tucked into a snazzy trailer, and off we went for the champagne toast. At toast time, Dave, the crew chief, spry but wizened like the Ancient Mariner, gave us the brief history of flight, which began with two French brothers who invented the first successful balloon. Guess what the inventor's name was? PILOT!! (Pilatre in French).
But then you have to land the darn things! Well, Ed, aka Glen Campbell, sighted a pasture, but it had horses in it, and he told us that horses can be spookey around a balloon. Well, the two horses did notice us, and indeed, ran around with tails flagging, showing their excitement. Nevertheless, we gently landed in a pasture of a Taos restaurateur, made peace with the horses, and dodged the road apples. Everyone helped roll up the balloon; everything, caboose and all was hydraulically tucked into a snazzy trailer, and off we went for the champagne toast. At toast time, Dave, the crew chief, spry but wizened like the Ancient Mariner, gave us the brief history of flight, which began with two French brothers who invented the first successful balloon. Guess what the inventor's name was? PILOT!! (Pilatre in French).
We also visited several art galleries in Taos, including the great Ranchos de Taos Church and the Harwood Museum of the University of New Mexico -- great! --, R. C. Gorman's gallery, and the Ortenstone Gallery, home to Nancy Ortenstone and her abstract and floral paintings, as well as her husband's gallery, The Pierre Delattre Gallery and Studio. Her paintings are not narrative but emotive, evocative, landscapes of the spirit, or the impression of color, subtle hues, not quite images. Pierre's, according to his daughter, are narrative, European influenced. We loved both of them for very different reasons.
It was another of those six degrees of separation encounters: Pierre and Jon had both attended the University of Chicago Divinity School, Pierre as a BD Student, Jon as a Phd candidate. Though Pierre is five years older, they had both met and studied under Paul Tillich, the most renowned Protestant existentialist theologian of the first half of the twentieth century.
We also spent half of a day in the Taos Pueblo, with a local guide and narrator. Besides being well informed and helpful, he provided us with access to shops and people we would never have experienced. Continuously inhabited for over 1,000 years, it is yet another cultural wonder of the American continent. Living on the boundaries between the plains people and the pueblo peoples; between western european conquerors, both Spanish and US, and their indiginous relatives, the Taos people persisted. Crowded at ceremonial times, choosing to live without electricity, gas or plumbing, the families who live there do so by right of family inheritance. Today nearly two hundred people live in the pueblo year round.
It was another of those six degrees of separation encounters: Pierre and Jon had both attended the University of Chicago Divinity School, Pierre as a BD Student, Jon as a Phd candidate. Though Pierre is five years older, they had both met and studied under Paul Tillich, the most renowned Protestant existentialist theologian of the first half of the twentieth century.
We also spent half of a day in the Taos Pueblo, with a local guide and narrator. Besides being well informed and helpful, he provided us with access to shops and people we would never have experienced. Continuously inhabited for over 1,000 years, it is yet another cultural wonder of the American continent. Living on the boundaries between the plains people and the pueblo peoples; between western european conquerors, both Spanish and US, and their indiginous relatives, the Taos people persisted. Crowded at ceremonial times, choosing to live without electricity, gas or plumbing, the families who live there do so by right of family inheritance. Today nearly two hundred people live in the pueblo year round.
The feeling of Taos: first, the Taos Pueblo, occupied for over one thousand years, with shops and artisans and the old church, and ceremonies still celebrated in the old pueblo tradition. The church is beautiful, simple yet delicate in its local colors, old frescoes and Santos. It contrasts sharply with the gun slinging Kit Carson Museum and that opposing part of American history. But the light, the wonderful sunlight of Taos, combined with the magical Taos Mountain, keeper of power and wholeness; the multicultural, tricultural combination of traditions, lifestyles, art and music and dance; the varied menus, dress codes, celebrations and languages -- the power of the human spirit to find a place of infinite expression -- it is unique, alluring, enchanting, inspiring the Georgia O'Keefe's, the Dodge's, the Sinclairs, D. H. Lawrence, the poets, the writers, the dancers, the jewelry makers, the tortilla slappers, the pepper growers, a colorful Catholic mass, the Presbyterian and Methodist shopkeepers -- called coffee drinkers by a Pueblo artist -- the balloons. Such a small spot; such a huge difference -- and it is eighty percent registered Democrat! Too much! We hope the pictures do this all justice.
No comments:
Post a Comment