Thanksgiving in New Mexico and a visit to Quarai (Part I of Sasquatch's Southwestern Sojourn)
I arrived in New Mexico on Wednesday afternoon. The first thing you notice about Albuquerque is that the airport is covered in stucco. I don't think airports should try to look rustic. However, I was not there to gawk at the airport, so it wasn't a big deal. A bit weird, but not a big deal.
I saw a great T-shirt while I was waiting for my ride: a photo of a bunch of Apache (I think), with the text "Homeland Security—fighting terrorism since 1492." *I* thought it was funny, anyway.
Renaissance Man (RM) and his wife, Mrs. RM, picked me up and spirited me off to their house in southeastern Albuquerque. Lovely little house, built in the late 1890s for railroad workers. Mrs. RM has filled it with antiques—they're really quite nice. She's also filled it with four cats, which are not as nice, only because they are cats. (I'm a dog guy, despite having been ripped apart by one when I was seven—more on that in another post.)
RM and I drove north for a walk along the Rio Grande, where we saw sandhill cranes, a great horned owl, and blue heron. We only found the owl after it started hooting in the near-total darkness. RM moved into the tree cover to find it, and, although I didn't see this happen, it flew right in front of my face. We saw it on a branch where it made a really cool silhouette. We then returned to the house. After a lovely dinner, RM's dad, the Colonel, drove me up to his house in Corrales, where I was to sleep for the duration of the trip.
The next day, I woke up with a split top lip. I didn't think anything of it until it happened three mornings in a row. Then I found out that the humidity in Albuquerque is something like 3%, which could have something to do with the lip cracking. I was totally Carmex-dependent from then on.
Thanksgiving was nice and understated. I played nine holes of golf with The Colonel, who ended up beating me by six or seven strokes. Mrs. RM, who is a vegetarian, was kind enough to cook a turkey for the three human and four furry carnivores at the table. Along with a salad and dumplings made from her grandmother's recipe, she also baked an incredible apple pie from scratch. The apples were nice and tart—outstanding. Muchos kudos to you, Mrs. RM!
On Friday, RM and I headed out to the ruins of Quarai, east of Albuquerque. We went through all sorts of terrain within a relatively short amount of time: scrub plain, light forest, and mountains. According to RM, New Mexico contains 7 of the 8 different types of biome found in North America. The only thing it doesn't have is a rain forest (there's one in Washington State). We drove through Chililí, which is one of several land grants found throughout New Mexico. Thanks to the 1848 Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo, which officially ended the Mexican War and established New Mexico as part of the United States, "property of every kind now belonging to Mexicans now established there shall be inviolably respected." What this means is that you see a sign that says "Chilili Land Grant" before you drive through the town. There's a sign in the town that states that photography is not permitted anywhere in the town. There's not a lot there that you'd want to photograph, really. You can see for yourself here.
We got to Quarai and parked the car. When we got out, RM said, "What do you hear?" After giving it some thought, I replied, "Nothing." "Exactly," he said knowingly. It was a welcome change from the ever-present ambient noise of my neighborhood. Although it sounds like a cliché, there wasn't a cloud in the sky. Anywhere. It was a brilliant blue and went on forever.
We headed for the National Park Service Visitor Center, where a woman had just gone in with her dog. The people running the center told her she couldn't bring the dog in with her. As she left in a huff, she informed the dog that "maybe we weren't appreciated by everyone." After getting a brief overview in the Visitor Center, we picked up a guide and started out for the ruins. According to the plaque at the entrance to the chapel, the stones are "brooding." That's debatable. They were brick red—and ruined—but not all that brooding.
RM played tour guide, reading aloud the descriptions for each section of the chapel. The tour was pretty straightforward until we got to the sign discussing the Inquisition. Yup, *that* Inquisition. I never really thought about it happening on the American continent, but I was wrong. (Go ahead, say it: No one expects the Spanish Inquisition. Feel better now?) Indians were not subject to the Inquisition, but they were often called to testify. If there was enough evidence to proceed against someone, that individual was bound and sent to Mexico City for trial.
On our way back to Albuquerque, we stopped at an antique store. Fortunately for me, there was a TV with the Nebraska-Colorado game on. Neither the Colonel nor the RMs have TVs in their houses, and I was dying for a little Thanksgiving weekend football. Nebraska was winning, 20-3, and went on to win 30-3. I love seeing Coloradans being depressed (my down-the-hall neighbor excepted, of course).
The evening was capped by a rousing round of Scrabble. I had indulged in some pre-trip Scrabble smacktalk, and was made to eat what was not to be the first helping of Scrabble crow of the trip.
More on the remaining days of the trip to follow shortly...
I saw a great T-shirt while I was waiting for my ride: a photo of a bunch of Apache (I think), with the text "Homeland Security—fighting terrorism since 1492." *I* thought it was funny, anyway.
Renaissance Man (RM) and his wife, Mrs. RM, picked me up and spirited me off to their house in southeastern Albuquerque. Lovely little house, built in the late 1890s for railroad workers. Mrs. RM has filled it with antiques—they're really quite nice. She's also filled it with four cats, which are not as nice, only because they are cats. (I'm a dog guy, despite having been ripped apart by one when I was seven—more on that in another post.)
RM and I drove north for a walk along the Rio Grande, where we saw sandhill cranes, a great horned owl, and blue heron. We only found the owl after it started hooting in the near-total darkness. RM moved into the tree cover to find it, and, although I didn't see this happen, it flew right in front of my face. We saw it on a branch where it made a really cool silhouette. We then returned to the house. After a lovely dinner, RM's dad, the Colonel, drove me up to his house in Corrales, where I was to sleep for the duration of the trip.
The view from my bedroom window—those are the Sandia Mountains
The next day, I woke up with a split top lip. I didn't think anything of it until it happened three mornings in a row. Then I found out that the humidity in Albuquerque is something like 3%, which could have something to do with the lip cracking. I was totally Carmex-dependent from then on.
Thanksgiving was nice and understated. I played nine holes of golf with The Colonel, who ended up beating me by six or seven strokes. Mrs. RM, who is a vegetarian, was kind enough to cook a turkey for the three human and four furry carnivores at the table. Along with a salad and dumplings made from her grandmother's recipe, she also baked an incredible apple pie from scratch. The apples were nice and tart—outstanding. Muchos kudos to you, Mrs. RM!
On Friday, RM and I headed out to the ruins of Quarai, east of Albuquerque. We went through all sorts of terrain within a relatively short amount of time: scrub plain, light forest, and mountains. According to RM, New Mexico contains 7 of the 8 different types of biome found in North America. The only thing it doesn't have is a rain forest (there's one in Washington State). We drove through Chililí, which is one of several land grants found throughout New Mexico. Thanks to the 1848 Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo, which officially ended the Mexican War and established New Mexico as part of the United States, "property of every kind now belonging to Mexicans now established there shall be inviolably respected." What this means is that you see a sign that says "Chilili Land Grant" before you drive through the town. There's a sign in the town that states that photography is not permitted anywhere in the town. There's not a lot there that you'd want to photograph, really. You can see for yourself here.
We got to Quarai and parked the car. When we got out, RM said, "What do you hear?" After giving it some thought, I replied, "Nothing." "Exactly," he said knowingly. It was a welcome change from the ever-present ambient noise of my neighborhood. Although it sounds like a cliché, there wasn't a cloud in the sky. Anywhere. It was a brilliant blue and went on forever.
We headed for the National Park Service Visitor Center, where a woman had just gone in with her dog. The people running the center told her she couldn't bring the dog in with her. As she left in a huff, she informed the dog that "maybe we weren't appreciated by everyone." After getting a brief overview in the Visitor Center, we picked up a guide and started out for the ruins. According to the plaque at the entrance to the chapel, the stones are "brooding." That's debatable. They were brick red—and ruined—but not all that brooding.
The supposedly brooding stones at the chapel entrance
RM played tour guide, reading aloud the descriptions for each section of the chapel. The tour was pretty straightforward until we got to the sign discussing the Inquisition. Yup, *that* Inquisition. I never really thought about it happening on the American continent, but I was wrong. (Go ahead, say it: No one expects the Spanish Inquisition. Feel better now?) Indians were not subject to the Inquisition, but they were often called to testify. If there was enough evidence to proceed against someone, that individual was bound and sent to Mexico City for trial.
Sullen, maybe, but not very brooding. Was I right about the sky or what?
On our way back to Albuquerque, we stopped at an antique store. Fortunately for me, there was a TV with the Nebraska-Colorado game on. Neither the Colonel nor the RMs have TVs in their houses, and I was dying for a little Thanksgiving weekend football. Nebraska was winning, 20-3, and went on to win 30-3. I love seeing Coloradans being depressed (my down-the-hall neighbor excepted, of course).
The evening was capped by a rousing round of Scrabble. I had indulged in some pre-trip Scrabble smacktalk, and was made to eat what was not to be the first helping of Scrabble crow of the trip.
More on the remaining days of the trip to follow shortly...
posted by Sasquatch at
10:26 PM
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