New Mexico is Fake

New Mexico is fake. It’s just too damn pretty and scenic. It must be fake. Fake mountains, fake valleys, plastic cliffs and styrofoam hills. Definitely.

But what a beautiful abberation in the scenery on our trip so far! It feels like another country – a high desert land full of adobe buildings that meld into their natural surroundings. A four seasons southern land where ravens fly high over the valleys. I love rainforest, and I love ocean, but the desert landscape here is completely breathtaking.

As we drove into New Mexico we took a secondary highway – in fact, it was so remote and empty it must be a tertiary or quadriary road Paved? It was. Scenic? It was gorgeous! The low brush and flat-topped desert hills were beautiful. The road was smooth and curvy; everything around us inspired thoughtful contemplation. So for a couple hours we didn’t say much and just enjoyed the ocular sensations.

We arrived in Las Vegas after 107 miles of desert. There wasn’t much in this version of Vegas. A large “LOANS” sign adorned the old buildings on main street – sign of the times. Apparently there is a university here (so tells us the anthropology professor) and a hotel built in the late 1800s. Since there was nowhere in particular to stop, we drove on to Santa Fe.

During our stay in Santa Fe we tried to burn off some of the car-fat we’ve accumulated through our near-constant snacking. Lucky for us, you can’t go for a hike in Santa Fe without going up – steeply up! The first trail we discovered was the Atalaya Mountain Trail. The trailhead is located at St.John’s College, one of the oldest college in the US – founded in 1696. We sweated our way up the hills to our reward: the whole valley below spread out below us like a honeycomb of autumn colours. The following day, we amped up the strain and did a 4 mile loop that needs to be re-measured by the authorities. It’s definitely longer than 4 miles. By our out-of-breath condition, we estimate at least 7 miles And on the last hiking day we took it easy – just a quick 2 mile steep ascent to another beautiful viewpoint near Atalaya Mountain, this time on the Dale Ball trail. Santa Fe is a mecca for artists, and it might as well be one for hikers as well. Beautiful trails abound.

Don’t come to Santa Fe without a bag full of money. This is a really crappy place to be a destitute musician or budget-conscious yoga teacher. The whole of downtown is a really funky weaving of little streets stemming out from the main plaza So many nice shops, boutiques, art galleries, hat stores, boot stores… great window shopping if you don’t mind being reminded of how penniless you are at every step We did however, spoil ourselves a little bit. I finally got my new baby.

Santa Fe is very tourist oriented, and it’s also very art-oriented in a commercial way – sort of the way Nashville is oriented towards music as a cash cow, here there are 100s of art galleries, but it almost like a art mill. Austin is the “real” in terms of music, and I’m not sure where would be the “real” in terms of art. Someone with more knowledge in this area could enlighten me. However, after NY, Santa Fe is the largest art market in North America. And Canyon Road, where most of the galleries are located, makes for a very eye-pleasing stroll.

Because of the sudden drop in temperature, we hid in our motel room for the first couple nights. But after Leah’s gig at Backroad Pizza on Saturday night we decided to investigate Santa Fe nightlife. As you can imagine, in a town full of artists, and wannabe artists, and old hippies, the nightlife is a big strange. We finally found a decent band at Cowgirls. A crazy zydeco band made the whole place bop and dance. Crazy wide-eyed dancing men were side by side with shy gesticulated nerds and frat boys who were so drunk they were opening their mouths crooked and uttering unintelligible noises. Leah was smitten with a cowboy-hatted anthropologist who charmed her with his sociological knowledge and George Clooney-esque good looks, and I spent the evening chatting with a 4th generation sculptor who had theories on everything from Spanish invasions to flowing streams.

While we were out, we met a strange character lurking amidst the adobe walls near the central plaza. She looked confused and bewildered, so we brought her back to our motel room. Guess what? It turns out we found another one of Keith Richards’ illegimate children!! We stole her boots and sent her back on the streets.

I would come back to Santa Fe again, if i had a bagful of money and a house with empty walls. But I would also come back with more friends, to show them this beautiful part of the country. Now we’re off to explore a bit northwards – the prehistoric cliff dwellings and the ancient pueblos, here we come!