June 7-8 – Part of me wishes we just kept driving past Albuquerque and straight to Santa Fe. Mere hours after being there, Kirsti was talking about how she could live there in the future – and I think I could too.

WE IMMEDIATELY LOVED SANTA FE!

But we had driven more than four hours, and the night before that was a long one.

So was the night before that in Dallas.

Assuming that would be the case, we had decided ahead of time to give ourselves a short drive of a little over an hour to Santa Fe, where we would be staying for two nights.

Our latest Airbnb, hosted by Deanne, made a great first impression. It was a second-floor condo, and as soon as we opened the door, we knew we had scored.

It was meticulously decorated in a southwestern style and there was a striking picture of her too as you walked in. It was black and white and she was looking a little like Joni Mitchell, I’m guessing from maybe the 70s.  

There were cattle skulls with horns and paintings of Native Americans hanging on the walls and a sombrero fruit dish on the dining room table.

She even left us a set of knit coasters to take with us, and they now reside in my family room.

The place also had two bedrooms, so we both slept so well.

In my notes from that day, I wrote “We are invigorated by the space.”

But that was just the Airbnb!

The rest of Santa Fe was even better, and I learned that you could ski there in the winter, which made it even more special to me.

We made a plan to go check out the arts district on Canyon Road and were blown away by the sites, from glass shops and bronze work to pottery and an amazing field of mesmerizing spinning lawn ornaments.

We met a man named Jan Moore who operated a shop with his wife called “Romancing the Stone” and had a great chat with him. His rock sculptures, including huge, funky rock faces outside the shop beckoning visitors, were so unique and intricate and inviting.

Inside were more rock sculptures, including a deformed, shiny grayish green heart on a pedestal he proudly spun. On the walls were elaborate abstract paintings by his wife, Jo.

Yes, his name was Jan and hers was Jo, which made them even more interesting.

Moore provided another example of my big takeaway from this trip that most people are genuinely kind and interesting and interested in others.

A couple years after our encounter, I tried to track him down for a follow-up chat. His store had closed, however, probably a COVID casualty and emails sent to a website I found highlighting their artwork sadly went unreturned. I wanted to convey how much Santa Fe and his interaction meant to me. Maybe he’ll see this.  

Another example of that kindness we felt on this trip also happened in Santa Fe when a customer at the glass shop where the windshield was replaced warned me not to close the window all the way because the heat and pressure could pop the seal. He didn’t know me, just parked next to me, but took time to try to help – and I loved that. 

And while I’m not a really artsy person, I was so captivated by Canyon Road.

Kirsti is artistic both as a musician and a painter, and I think she probably appreciated it even more.

When she mentioned to me about it being a possible landing spot for her now that she had graduated, part of me was thinking ‘damn, it’s so far away,’ but another part of me was thinking ‘great, I can’t wait to visit often.’

She talked about being able to use her Spanish speaking skills there in a teaching capacity perhaps, and being able to play music and do her art. It seemed perfect to her and I could totally see her thriving there.

As you’ll learn at the end of this book, Santa Fe will not be her home – and where she ended up is much farther away, sadly.

After touring the various art shops – and one western wear shop where I donned a cool black cowboy hat for an iconic Clint Eastwood-esque picture (perhaps not quite Clint Eastwood but damn cool) we took a break for some cheesy fries and a drink and went back to the Airbnb to chill and plan our evening.

Several people we spoke to recommended a restaurant called Tomasitas, so that’s where we headed for some amazing “New Mexican” cuisine that left us full and pretty spent. By the time we finished eating, it was nearly 10 p.m. and time to head back. This was another night of lying side-by-side in a bed for an hour or so watching “Riverdale.”

It’s a little weird probably, bonding over “Riverdale” and singing “Shallow,” but I’ll take any type of bonding with my kids, period. Not ashamed, not really anyway…

Day two in Santa Fe was equally awesome.

We did about a two-mile hike in the nearby Dale Ball Trails system that provided a little exercise, some neat views and a great backdrop for the aforementioned van pictures for Craigslist. The need to sell that van was getting more real by the day.  

  

      And it was after the hike, after a shower, that we were perhaps able to erase the uneasiness of the Native American issue in Albuquerque when we went to the Santa Fe Plaza.

Unlike in Albuquerque, where the shopping area seemed forced and not Native, the plaza offered a long row of Native American venders selling their goods on blankets along a walkway outside the New Mexico History Museum.

One vender named Geraldine was eager to tell us the history of the place, saying Native Americans have been selling goods like this for centuries there – never on tables – always on blankets. She said they are out there 365 days a year and they rely heavily on sales for their living.

And she said there are almost always more venders wanting space than spaces, so a lottery system using poker chips was developed. “Like with gambling,” she said, some are luckier than others. She also spoke about winter hardships and the ever present uncertainty of getting a spot to sell her stuff.

She also spoke about her daughter and her granddaughter winning a lottery of a different sort to have their hands imprinted in concrete at the museum.

She was so proud and so eager to tell of her heritage. We felt honored to hear her story and to be in the presence of this special place.

   Then it was back to the Airbnb where we took a break. I watched my beloved Red Sox on my computer while Kirsti rested.

For dinner that night, it was a place called El Meson for a mix of tapas, beet salad, blue crab croquettes and tuna. We dined while a band played Portuguese music on a stage just feet away.

Again, Santa Fe was endearing itself to us at every chance.

When finished, we walked down the street a bit and heard music playing outside. We both love live music, so we were drawn in just in time to hear a band crush a version of ELO’s “Can’t Get it Out of My Head.” Sadly, after I think one more song, the show was over. We were a little late.

The only stressful issue in Santa Fe was when I read Deanna’s departure instructions that spoke about washing the linens. I didn’t see it until pretty late and with no washing machine in the place, it meant a timely turnaround at the laundromat. I texted her to make sure what I was reading was needed, to be pleasantly informed that no – we didn’t have to!

“Hi David, You DO NOT have to do the laundry. I apologize if my message was confusing. Just do the dishes and that is all that is required.”

Perfect. We did them, and left Santa Fe itching to get back there!