Sunday, January 31, 2010
~ land of disenchantment ~
It is a commonplace to say you can never go home.
I've been hesitant to write about our trip last month to Santa Fe because the act of writing could ossify the way I think about a place that I had previously loved and frequently visited before calling it home: the first time in 1992 with the Santa Fe Institute Complex Systems Summer School, and again later that summer; in the spring of 1995 for a job interview and in winter later that year to see if I had made the right choice to take the job in Chicago instead; in the summer of 1997 with Baird and Susannah to see Georgia at the opera; early in 1999 to interview again; and then living there for four years from 1999 to 2003. I've always lived in interesting places, but Santa Fe is in some respects "the one that got away" -- the only location I didn't leave on my own terms as well as perhaps the most strikingly beautiful -- so my feelings about the place are complicated.
Perhaps I first should remind myself that there were good aspects to the trip last month. I enjoyed (as I always do) the feeling of remembering how to get around a place where I once lived, much like re-reading a favorite book. Except for Cerrillos Road during the middle of the day, it remains completely pleasant to drive around town. Meantime it was good to see some new developments, especially the railroad link between Santa Fe and Albuquerque. Marissa reminisced how she used to walk with Mookie along Rodeo Road from the first house where we lived over to the small grocery near where Rodeo meets Zia, other dogs barking at them while leaping from behind tall wooden fences, Mookie with so much heart giving right back. We met our friends Luce and Michael and met his daughter for the first time. I finally visited a feast day dance, at Santa Clara Pueblo on Holy Innocents Day (the same pueblo where Marissa said she shared an Indian taco with Mookie on her very first day in the Southwest). We shared stories with Beatrice and Solomon about our wedding day as we stood in the chapel at Bishop's Lodge. Our visit to the Museum of International Folk Art allowed us to play gamelan instruments. Some of the food was exceptional, most notably at El Farol, Marisco's La Playa, Mu Du Noodles, and San Marcos Café. The sopapillas at Tomasita's were delicious. We enjoyed constant views of snow-covered mountains, the distinctly New Mexican architectural esthetic of how buildings blend into the countryside and how interior spaces are decorated, and the relaxed friendliness of most folks to us and to each other. We saw, albeit briefly, Petroglyph National Monument.
But there were also aspects of our trip that frustrated and disappointed me. Part of this has to do with not planning our days carefully enough -- not keeping track of when SITE Santa Fe, the Flea Market, the Farmer's Market, and Frontier Restaurant would be closed. I think at times we fell into an odd illusion that we were living there again, and that there would be plenty of time to see what we wanted. As a result, we spent too much vacation time at places like Walgreens, Big 5, and Walmart. Furthermore, although staying at the base of Cerrillos Road was inexpensive and allowed me to become aware of Santa Fe Stoneworks, that section of town is at the outskirts. I know the area from fifteen years ago when it was across from a prairie dog colony, and from the stores that sprouted along Zafanaro when we lived on Camino Capitan and later when Les and Chere lived on Airport Road, yet it was not an area that I frequented. Staying there while visiting Santa Fe was an experience like staying in Oakland would be while visiting Berkeley.
But more significant than time and locale: the children and I had the flu. I caught it several days before leaving, a nasty cough with horrible phlegm, occasional chills, and waves of exhaustion. The entire trip we began each day late and ended early. We certainly weren't going on any hikes. My chest hurt so much from the coughing that we spent an entire afternoon and evening in the emergency room of St. Vincent's, seeing a doctor for about ten minutes' total, leading to our insurance being charged $1700 (some of which we will need to pay out of pocket).
Air travel was long and expensive. Some of our favorite restaurants no longer exist: Dynasty, Rociada, Kasasoba. I discovered from reading the cookbook at Harry's Roadhouse, right after enjoying their warm pecan pie with cool whipped cream, that their secret ingredient is fake maple syrup, and the knowledge completely turned me off. I remembered, unfortunately too late, that the vegetarian bacon in the breakfast burrito at The Pantry is always soggy, never crispy. Sunday Brunch at Bishop's Lodge was more expensive and much less bountiful in its variety (less seafood, and very ordinary desserts). The soup at Back Street Bistro was thin, much less satisfying than I recall. We didn't get to see all of our friends, many of them being out of town for the holidays, or eat at some of our other favorite restaurants.
For years I've entertained purchasing a home, or second home, in Santa Fe. But after this trip I'm not in any rush to return anytime soon. The topography, climate, and architecture are lovely, and there are good museums, outdoor activities, and fine restaurants. But it is expensive, distant, isolated, and lacks certain basic amenities like Asian grocery stores, a bagel shop, and pizza (don't bother to mention Bagelmania or Upper Crust). Both the so-called City Different and St. John's College, where I used to work, exist in a bubble: beautiful in their own way, yet also contrived and unreal, high-maintenance, dependent upon other places for their existence and distinctiveness. There are too many other places for us in this wide world.
9:01 PM
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