Traveling

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Last week, Monday to be precise, I took a solo excursion to New Mexico, firstly in search of places to celebrate my Native Mexican heritage, with that dash of Comanche. My ancestral lines go back to Peru and the Maya of the Yucatan, and who knows how long they journeyed the thousands of miles to New Mexico or where they lived in between. Life is full of mysteries.

My primary concern was finding where long departed grandparents were married or baptized. Sadly, for the first stop, my camera, likely in an act of inattention, got out of setting and took the weirdest, mostly unsalvageable photos (save one – you’ll know it when you see it). Perhaps in an effort to cement my return, I wondered, because I definitely will be back.

Santa Cruz de la Canada, where three grandfathers (Jose Candelario Garcia, Jose Antonio Maes, and Jose Joaquin Garcia de Noriega) were baptized, and two sets of great-grandparents were married, (Jose Joaquin to Maria de la Concepcion), and most exciting, Antonia Olaya Xiron (such a beautiful name!) to Francisco de la Cerda on March 4, 1743. Isn’t it amazing to think this happened thirty-three years before before America was even a country?

The above two photos are in and around Espanola, the land of Ohkay Owingeh, where my Grandma Esquipula was baptized in 1827. This eastward view is one she took in, too. If you’ve done any similar traveling, I’ll bet you experienced that crushing sense of wonder and home. I come from this place. My soul lies in this soil.

My next stop was Abiquiu, the place Georgia O’Keefe made famous, and where a handful of my grandfathers were baptized at Santo Tomas Church: Juan Rafael Serna, Valentin Serna (born on Valentine’s Day!), Jose Felipe de Neri Cisneros, Florencio Casillas, and Marcos Antonio Alire.

You may be wondering where the church photos are, as I definitely have them, but I decided on painting watercolors and sharing them at a later date. Stay tuned…

And again, I was struck by the familiarity and awe of this landscape, a warm embrace of my ancestors welcoming me home.

Rio Ojo Caliente, here and a few below

My final stop was Ojo Caliente! I hadn’t been there since 2016 and had never gone without Greg, so it was an especially meditative time of very little speaking and much listening, to the fall and splash of water, wind over naked branches, and the early quiet of day.

I ate a few delicious meals at the Artesian, walked in the chill of morning (after the wild creatures in the labyrinth!), practiced yoga, and scrubbed and soaked and steamed, over and over again, fully aware of my great privilege to do so in a place my ancestors received similar respite.

Ute Mountain and the freshly capped Sangre de Cristos

All is revered, all is home…

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Not Taos, as the Cow would proclaim, nor San Cristobal, but Arroyo Seco here. We had a New Mexico itch in need of scratching, planned ages ago because we are prescient like that. Goodness, I do not believe we could have timed it better, either. The weekend prior was a wild tumult of wind, more wind, and snow, but for our brief sojourn, the weather was positively glorious. Sun and more sun, nary a breeze, and during the daylight hours, that earthly quiet my heart craves. Splendid dear friends, splendid.

We did go into town, buying a bracelet at MoMo (such a fine selection!) and devouring rellenos and chimichangas at Orlando’s.

Back to the Taos Cow, may I recommend a Cherry Ristra cone. For those not in the know, a ristra is a string of chiles, hung as you would a wreath in warm welcome. This particular welcome was, surprise, cherry, no chile, but delicious nuggets of dark chocolate and pinon nuts. Muy bien!

My shadow. His Light.

Here now is San Cristobal. We have zoomed past countless times, coming and going from Taos, this time deciding to stop at the Taos Goji Eco Lodge. It’s a delightful spot, with charming owners and care takers, cabins old enough to have hosted D.H. Lawrence, and Aldous Huxley. The rather fetching D.H. Lawrence cabin had all that we could ask for, but most cherished was the outdoor setting. So beautiful, and the stars, the stars! I cannot wait to have those skies availed to me on the daily.

The Lodge has forty acres, made for a wander, and is adjacent to beautiful trails. There are animals galore – sheep, alpacas, chickens, goats, and a sweet and very protective donkey named Doris Day. What fun we had making their acquaintance!

Our sweet girl had an equally good time, awake and asleep.

The road home. I never tire of these views!

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Views from the road to Westcliffe. It was the first leg of a Southern Colorado mini-break and early birthday celebration for my favorite human ever (Greg is 52 today!), with two nights in Trinidad as our final destination.

We had a fine lunch and wander in Westcliffe, enjoying stellar sandwiches at the Sugarlump and a cinnamon licorice treat from their sister shop, Lollypop & Co. A fun time in a cool town.

On our way to Trinidad, we stopped along the Huerfano River Valley, where my Williams, Serna, and Casias ancestors were among the first permanent settlers. There’s even a creek named for the Williams side nearby. As is my wont, I visited the cemetery and brought some sweet decor. Handsome Louis is my Great Uncle times three.

The land in the foreground was owned by my family. The first time we visited, there was a house just down the road that was also on land they owned, and we considered buying it before deciding a forty minute one-way to the grocery or a hospital was not our jam. It was, however, quite tempting to imagine waking up to that stunning view on the daily!

Buried just outside Aguilar, Colorado (where Al Capone once lived) is Esquipula Maes, my Great Grandmother times four. We stumbled amongst a sea of Italian headstones in 100 degree heat to find her. Boy was I happy when we did!

p.s. the dates on her headstone were wrong, so I erased them.

Trinidad is just a hop, skip, and a jump over the pass from Raton, New Mexico, so we did just that. I do not recommend arriving on a Monday at lunch time, however, as the town is pretty much closed. The theater did look quite nice though.

My Great Grandma Tillie lived in Trinidad in 1900. She’s looking every bit adorable (that wisp of a curl!) with her equally handsome older brother, Henry. They lived on Convent street in a house that no longer exists.

Up until this trip, Trinidad was only ever a stopping place on the way to New Mexico. I am so happy to have spent more time here now, enjoying its beauty, both natural and architectural (with a little bit of cheek!), friendly people, great food, and fun shops.

Mutiny, in addition to a superb service and a nook of black light posters (!!), offers used books, comics, and music, along with every child in an adult’s body (aka Colleen and Greg) superb coffee, a sugar cereal bar, the ultimate selection of lunch box pastries, and pop tarts! We chose strawberry and a hardcover book about Mongolia.

So many sights for sore eyes! Many of these buildings were here when my Grandma Tillie lived here, which made my heart so happy to expereince it somewhat through her eyes.

Definitely not present during her time, but surely worthy of her approval were the Indian Fry bread delights at Three Sisters.

Same goes for the margaritas at the Las Animas Grill. History lessons from the kindly owner are also on offer! Also worth noting, but totally without a photo because we ate them too quickly, were the wonderful pastries from Colie’s. We had a sticky bun cinnamon roll and an almond croissant. Yum.

We literally chose the hottest day of the year to hike, and my red face shows it. Yowza!

In addition to wanting to see the streets where my Grandma Tillie toddled about as a child, Greg and I were keen on vising Colorado’s newest state park – Fisher’s Peak. It’s about a five minute drive from downtown, and could not be easier. Worthy of note is the fact that dogs are not allowed at the park. No fretting needed, Juniper napped in the security of her crate and the air conditioned luxury of our rental while we hiked.

This was our longest and most difficult hike in ages, the first section 900 feet in elevation gain in the first mile, so yeah, steep. Not gonna lie, our legs and my right knee did some complaining, but it was certainly worth the incredible views of its namesake, the Sangre de Christos, and Spanish Peaks. Most definitely!

Last look east from Simpson’s Rest. Thanks for the memories, Trinidad!

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Moody light over Taos, so beautiful!

Taos Mountain enveloped in snow

Picuris Peak

Sangre de Christos

For our return trip home, we found a cool casita just a “block” away from our Taos land. We know the neighborhood, but this was the first time we actually set foot on the property, having bought it at the height of the pandemic, and walked the gorgeous views.

We also had a wonderful breakfast (how excited I am to have New Mexican style food I won’t have to make myself!) with our delightful realtor and equally kindly person, Yvonne Trujillo and her husband David, talking land and concrete and wells and everything in between. How real this is all becoming, thrilling and frightening, too. Please think good thoughts for us!

I am ridiculously content, sitting in the wood stove warmth of the Sugar Nymphs Bistro in Penasco. We love this place, as the service (our sweet server was named Colleen!!), all the food, and especially the desserts, are top notch. This is my absolute favorite seat in the house, right by the stove and with a great view of the art lined walls.

We also, for the first time, made a couple of wine and cider tasting stops at Black Mesa and La Chiripada. Both were marvelous, with super friendly staff. We bought quite a bit for two people who don’t drink on the regular!

Taos Mountain from Picuris Peak and zoomed from our neighborhood. We’ll have a view of this stunner from our back porch. Huzzah!

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Hi! I’m listening to a super chatty tour guide. Completely unrelated, my very cool necklace charms are Gemini and Cancer constellations (for me and my star crossed love) from the delightful Kayla at Fox and the Fawn. They have the most wonderful jingle! I am also wearing her rings. Here’s to supporting hard working metal smiths.

Greetings from Taliesin West, stop number two on places of architectural interest in Arizona. As you know, if you’ve been with me for a while, I am rather fond of Frank Lloyd Wright structures, and this is no exception. We visited Phoenix in part to see this great place, all stunning angles and sublime views, unlike the hordes of suitcase rollers we encountered post Super Bowl. We didn’t know it was even happening, which gave Cynthia (see below) a good chuckle! The pair of us are impossibly out of touch when it comes to sports and absolutely without apology.

No visit to the Phoenix area would be complete without a visit with Greg’s awesome cousin, Cynthia, who picked up her Texas stakes for Arizona at the beginning of the pandemic. We enjoyed tacos on an eye wateringly hot heated patio, walked in the rain, and caught up on stellar, in-person conversation. We are super proud of all she has accomplished and what is happening next. All the things, indeed.

She and Greg are not only looking good (seriously!) in the wee slice of afternoon sun, but standing in front of one of her multiple citrus trees in her beautiful back garden. She gave us a bag of fruit, and I made marmalade, no surprise. It is all the more delicious knowing the origin.

bird of prey and ocotillo

Fun Valentine lunch at Tonto!

Our final full day in Cave Creek was a cold one, rife with mist and fog, with our cozy Valentine lunch sandwiched midway. It was as delicious at it looks.

Juniper and I cozied up with sweaters and books while Greg did some fast typing. Have I ever told you about this? He is the fastest typist I know. So much so, I often call it fake because he sounds like a child hammering willy-nilly at the keys. He absolutely is not.

Boy howdy, the photos, save maybe the last one, absolutely do not display the horror of being on the roads of northern Arizona on February 15, 2023. We have never seen so many smashed vehicles: lying on their side, heading the wrong direction, upside down. We found, quite literally, the one artery to I-40 that was not closed and inched along at 20 miles per hour. The final photo is a mere smidgen of the at least three-mile long chain of vehicles stopped overnight and hoping to get moving westbound to Flagstaff. Yikes!

Our friend Mary said we must be living right to have such good fortune. Thanks for saying so and big hug.

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