Santa Fe, NM

Having perpetually cold extremities forces you to think about the weather in a way the curiously glowing people don't. Kind of like how a gal with rose gold undertones might think of her perfect mate as her 35th birthday nears and finds any and every clock useless but her biological one:

My Perfect Weather: Four seasons with no season bolder than the other. Prefer semi-arid climate, but can tolerate humidity. Sunny winters earn brownie points; temperatures below 15 degrees, however -- a deal breaker.

Perfect Mate à la said gal: "You're bright, creative, out-of-the-box thinker who is driven, loyal, fun, well traveled, cultured, adventurous, loving and caring...most importantly you're not produced from a "cookie cutter". (I've also always had a thing for soccer players, but that's negotiable!)"*

There might be hope for our gal considering how in the bowels of winter I felt something I rarely feel, my toes. With my black jacket and the bright sun Georgia O'Keefe couldn't get enough of, it makes sense why I felt like a walking incubator the entire time I was in Santa Fe. And I loved it.

My mind wasn't burdened with life-sustaining questions (One pair of socks or two?) nor in a constant state of panic (My gloves?! Where are they?? I just had them!) It was free, boundless. But because I've been a worry wart since I can remember, it began to dwell on the one thing every Shiva Smith and Lakshmi Leigh** tell you not to worry about -- The Future.

Then, between these two panoramas, I was reminded of an even more expansive one. Sure the timing of it all felt borderline cheesy. It's exactly what I needed to read though, and D. H. Lawrence's words about New Mexico couldn't have felt truer in Santa Fe. "Touch the country, and you will never be the same again."

Ristra (not art)

Rock, scissors, paper sculpture (cool art)

Each thumb, index, middle, ring, and little finger; and each big, second, third, forth, and fifth toe touched it all right. Alas, it was the same old sad story on the plane ride home. Frozen hands, feet, and even the extremity-less ass by the time we reached cruising altitude ::SIGH::

* Direct quote from OkCupid. Oh, if you're a flake/wuss like me you can reactivate/deactivate your profile whenever you please now. Before you had to suffer for a week. 

** I'm brown, so I know a lot of brown people. And every brown person I know worries about the future constantly. Yet every white person I've met who "adores" brown culture and adopted a brown name doesn't. Go figure.

Length of Stay

Five days

Docking Index

       

Eight anchors. I had to sound the damn alarms as the ninth anchor was being lowered when I read that Santa Fe was once the location of a WWII Japanese Internment Camp. There's no hint of this anywhere downtown -- not even in the Capitol Building. I have a sinking feeling that as this mountaintop utopia underwent its own renewal, it did the very thing people often do when they want a "fresh start". Dismiss the past rather than acknowledge it.

Real time update: still incredulous -- Santa Fe can't be that heartless, it just can't! -- I did some internet sleuthing for this post. Mayor Delgado, you have redeemed your city in my eyes. Unfortunately, I can't drop half an anchor :/