Thanksgiving in Santa Fe: Day 2


I slept well my first night in my home for a week.  I took a shower to wash off the travel and began to truly understand how blessed and spoiled I am with Maine water.

In blogging these adventures I want to address two things right from the start here.  First: there is something weird going on with the camera app on my phone which results in a weird dotted line across the top of all my photos.  Sorry about that.  One of these days I will get to the Apple Store and get it sorted.

The other thing is that elevation definitely affects the body in many ways.  I was conceived, born, and raised at sea level.  I am the baroness of The West End … which is at sea level.  My whole of existence is at sea level.  And now I am 7,000 feet above sea level (that’s a mile and a third, by the way) and … I am derp.  I feel spontaneously drunk, winded after a flight of stairs, and I can barely remember my cat’s name.  It is very strange.  So, some of this blogging may not be up to my usual level of quality.

Breakfast food is the most perfect food.

Breakfast food is the most perfect food.

Went to breakfast at the Counter Culture Cafe.  This was my first opportunity to observe the locals.

My friend Ridgely had explained to me Santa Fe in this way: You know how Freeport is like a theme park of Maine?  Santa Fe is a theme park of itself.

This started to become evident at breakfast.  The name of the Cafe was interesting, because the only people in there who looked “counter culturey” to me were the baristas, a trio of tattooed and pierced people at the table next to us, and, um, me I guess?  Because blue hair?  Everyone else was dressed sporty, even though they were clearly not actually sporty.  There were many middle-aged women who looked very pleased with themselves.  There were a few older ladies, one with a dog on her lap her whole meal, who were having a fantastic time and looked like they were in a catalog for posh New Mexico.

The food was very good, and I tried some of both green and red chile off Micah’s plate because this stuff is on everything so I best figure out what the heck it is and which color I like.  I think I like red better?  I don’t know.  I am so white it is embarrassing.

The big event of the day was going to Tent Rocks.  This place is amazing, but where the elevation really seemed to get to me.

Check this out, you guys:

There are these little cactuses everywhere with wee yellow flowers on them, but they look like spiky cat poops.  I don’t know what they actually are, mostly because I am pleased with calling them cat poop cactus.

This cat poop cactus is trying to be adopted by a cedar tree, hoping for a better life.

This cat poop cactus is trying to be adopted by a cedar tree, hoping for a better life.

The trails around the Tent Rocks are wicked neat, with tons of opportunity to not only look at the incredibly geology, but touch.  Feeling the differences in the rock where it had been smoothed by wind and water versus the bumpy conglomerate sediment, with layers of different incidents of volcanic ash.

Everything smelled really good too, with cedar trees everywhere, and lots of little interesting plants and such.

The drive back to the house was lovely, the sky so big and filled with sunset, but I was feeling very sleepy and kept nodding off.

I made supper and we watched 28 Days Later because it is so good and neither of us had seen it in a long time.  Still so good!