Sunny Santa Fe

I’m back!

Wait, did I mention I was gone?

We were in Santa Fe. School started yesterday (orientation blah didie blah) and classes start Thursday. I turn 30 on Monday.

30 is the new pink, did you know that?

So we decided to vacation.

In Santa Fe. I used my mad internet skills to find us a lovely hotel a block from the plaza (where all the historical stuff is). Our sunset view wasn’t awful.

The St. Francis hotel, where we stayed, is  gorgeous. The room was not big, and that’s putting it generously, but it was super pretty and well designed with benches and hooks and shelves for all our stuff.

Before we left Louisville, we asked a couple of folks where to eat in Santa Fe. Two independent recommendations came back for Pasquals, which happened to be directly across from the hotel, so on Thursday night when we got into town we wandered through the door right at opening. You usually need reservations, it seems, but since it was early they gave us a little table. Crockett got immediately into the spirit of things with a Santa Fe Pale Ale and mole enchiladas, but I was absolutely freezing and I wanted soup and stout. So soup was had – spicy thai coconut squash, and stout was had – Samuel Smith knows what he’s about.

Then, bed. Because driving for six hours is exhausting. Even if you only actually drive for half of that.

In the morning I went for a run. On the one hand, I love running in a new place, because it’s an awesome way to explore. On the other hand, I was worried I was going to be abducted.

What, it happens.

Crockett tracked me the whole time using Find my iPhone, just in case.

About two miles into the run, I saw this sign. I’m assuming it was for me.

After I dragged Crockett out of bed, we wandered around looking for breakfast.

Also, witnessing New Year donkies and hipster dalmations.

Because of the run and the wandering, we missed a lot of places breakfast hours. Fortunately, Tia Sophia’s was there for us. Crockett went with heuvos (they’re under there, I swear), I had green chili, and we got sopapillas with our meals. We didn’t know when we chose it, but apparently this is sort of a go-to breakfast place around town, and I can see why. Delish.

Properly fortified, it was learning time.

The New Mexico History Museum was awesome. I was hoping for more bomb stuff, but at least I did get to see a book about bombs mixed up with Santa Fe coloring books.

I don’t know why I was hoping for bomb stuff.

I think it’s the ex-engineer in me.

We wandered, and shopped, and napped, and then headed out for first Friday. My research had informed me that the galleries would all be open and love us on Friday nights.

My research overestimated the willingness of galleries to open when it was freezing cold and also the willingness of galleries on the road we chose to visit to open when there was a gas leak.

We did make it back to town in time to catch the free entry at the Georgia O’Keefe museum, which DUDE. I did not know Ms. O’Keefe was as cool as she was.  No pics allowed, sadly, but did you know she didn’t just paint girly part lookin flowers? I didn’t. I do now.

Also, we saw this sign. I found the cross amusing. Because, you know, don’t park here… because Jesus said so.

Know what else Jesus said?

Buy folk art.

Apparently. Also, Moses wants you to buy cowboy paintings. Not pictured: Mohammed says buy sculpture.

We went back to the galleries on Saturday, when it was sunny and they weren’t cruelly taunting us with their brightly lit interiors and their locked doors.

I did buy art, because I’m nothing if not swayed by amusing signs.

We went to the farmers market, flea market, and a confusing yet thrilling bunch of overcluttered stores called Jackalope.

I am both dangerous and adorable.

One of the downsides of going somewhere like Santa Fe is that everyone says ‘oh the food is amazing!’ and then you have 400 restaurants to choose from and only four days and limited belly room and you worry that you’re going to chose the wrong thing and…

Fortunately, our friend sent us 5 text messages, listing the places not to be missed.

The Shed was one of those places. I continued with my green chili investigation – also delicious. The thing about green chili is that it’s always delicious, have you noticed that? Crockett had a grilled chicken sandwich with guacamole, because he feels about guac the way I feel about green chili. We also had several margaritas. The Shed: two thumbs up. The only weirdness is that it came with garlic bread, but the menu said:

You might be suprised to find that a restaurant known for tradtional Northern New Mexican cuisine serves french garlic bread with all its entrees reflecting a taste of history patrons have demanded since the beginnings of The Shed on Burro Alley.

Yeah, I’m not sure I understand either. We didn’t eat the bread, but it was pretty.

For dinner we followed another text invective and went to Tomasita’s. Those plates you’re looking at are two different plates, I swear. Crockett’s had enchiladas and mine had rellenos. The building was beautiful – it looks like a train station, maybe, but I don’t know for sure. The food was as expected – tasty, plentiful, and American Mexicany. I ate it alllll up.

We did have a restaurant in our hotel, but we never made it. We did make it to the bar a couple of times, Secreto Bar. The spicy Secreto was like a sweet spicy cucumber margarita that I found delicious, and apparently the bartender who invented it won some sort of award. Obviously my palate is fabulous.

Sunday was a day of rest. Literally. We went to Pasqual’s again for brunch and sat at the communal table and I ate grits and it was gooooood. Then we hit up Trader Joe’s for picnic food, and spent the rest of the day kicking around the hotel reading and watching tv and (if you were Crockett) working.

The ride home was actually sort of miserable. Snow and nasty roads and a working boyfriend, leading to seven hours of tensed muscle driving for Emma. However, we made it back in two (him and me) pieces and now have happy Santa Fe memories.

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One Response to Sunny Santa Fe

  1. BD says:

    I WILL go there someday. Georgia O’Keefe rocks (as did her hubby Alfred Stieglitz). Two pioneers in the 20th century American art movement. – BD