When in Rome - (Lunedi -- la mia serata finale a Roma)

Monday evening -- my last evening in Rome. 

Dana and Tom have invited me to their home for dinner tonight.  I haven't seen them for quite a while.  They left NYC two years ago for a year-long visit to Rome.  That one year has now extended into its third year!  They live in a very old building deep in the Monte Rione section of Rome, near Trajan's Forum, so I head out to the Via Cavour to begin my walk down to their apartment.   Along the way my right hip gives out so I hail a cab.  The cabdriver insists he knows where Via di Campo Carleo is, but it seems like we are driving in circles -- I'm seeing the same landmarks over and over.  I ask him if he is certain he knows where he is going and he tells me if I don't like what he's doing I should exit his cab immediately.  I refuse because my aching hip needs us to get closer.  So I begin to give HIM directions (based on my fascination with Google maps for weeks before arriving in Rome).  We eventually get to a street that I recognize as being very close to the little street, ending in Roman ruins, called Via di Campo Carleo.  I exit the cab, give the driver half the fare, and hobble down the hill to a building I easily recognize (also from Google maps) as my destination -- (easy -- as it's rather unique:  painted yellow, around six storeys tall, has an ancient tall tower, and has stacked rooms in a bridge over a side street -- how could I miss it!).

I ring the bell for what I assume to be the topmost apartment.  Fortunately I am correct and soon hear Dana's voice on the intercom telling me to take the elevator to the 6th floor and then walk up a flight of stairs.  She buzzes me in and I find the elevator -- one of those open types (I always think they're French, for some reason) -- big enough for perhaps two French people, with lots of open ironwork and a wooden bench well-patinated by dozens of years of buffing derrieres. 

Arriving at the top I'm greeted by Dana and Tom and their 2 boys, now ages 13 and 11.

Dana and Tom

I haven't seen this family since Sam, their older son, was two years old and Michael, their younger, was soon to be born.  What a nice family they have become!  They are enjoying Rome and their travels in the Mediterranean area tremendously.  The boys have taken Italian lessons since they were toddlers so attending excellent Italian public schools is very easy for them.  Outside of school they are busy with sports, music lessons (piano, cello, and clarinet), and reading.  Every day purposeful reading is de rigeur.  They have been blessed with the same inquisitiveness and zest for learning as their parents.

I'm given a tour of their apartment.  It has many rooms on many different levels.  At the top level is the master bedroom -- in a 14th century tower.  

14th century tower with 18th century exterior embellishments and a bedroom inside!

Taking some steep narrow steps from that bedroom to the rooftop of the tower provides a priceless 360 degree view of Rome.  The Palatine, the Esquiline, and the Capitoline Hills, the Colosseum, several other ancient towers and monuments, domes everywhere including St. Peter's, and extensive areas of excavations of buildings from Imperial Rome.

Back downstairs we spend the evening on their huge west-facing terrace, blooming profusely with bougainvilleas and jasmine and affording stunning panoramas as well.  We watch the gulls swoop and dive.  The most amazing views of Rome are everywhere I turn.

Right below us are remains of Trajan's Forum and Trajan's Markets.  When it was constructed (AD 107-112), it was the last and largest of the Imperial Fora and was considered one of the most important monuments of Imperial Rome.  The giant complex was "unlike anything under the heavens."  And now, to realize in 2011, the colonnades and the western hemicycle are just feet away from this family's everyday life.

 

Just to our left, across the Boulevard Via dei Fori Imperiali (built by Mussolini at the expense of destroying much of Trajan's Forum and other sites) is the Palatine Hill.  It is thought that Rome has its origins on the Palatine.  Recent excavations have shown that people have lived on the site since approximately 1000 B.C.  According to Roman mythology, the Palatine hill was where Romulus and Remus were found by a female wolf that kept them alive, allowing Romulus to grow up and choose the site to build the city of Rome.  The Palatine, due to its close proximity to the seat of power, became "the place to live."  The very powerful and wealthy chose to build their homes there.  Eventually the emperors took over the hill completely.  (more info here)

The Palatine

Just to the left of the Palatine is the Colosseum.  The Colosseum, built in AD 79, is located at the foot of Mussolini's Via dei Fori Imperiali. This architectural masterpiece was designed to hold approximately 50,000 spectators.  Underneath the original wooden floor a series of storage rooms and passageways were added later. In this confined space, a range of animals, fighters, slaves and stagehands worked in almost total darkness.  I was able to briefly see the Colosseum up close the next morning before heading out to the airport but next time in Rome it will be first on my list of things to do and see!

The Roman Colosseum

Below is a view of the huge Victor Emmanuel Monument completed in 1911 to celebrate the 50th anniversary of the formation of the Kingdom of Italy with Victor Emanuel II as its emperor/king.  The northern side of the Capitoline Hill was chosen as the site.  To clear the site, many churches and ruins that stood there were first destroyed. That fact, and the mass of white marble used, make it not a popular addition to the neighborhood.. 

The Victor Emmanuel Monument

Off in the western distance is St. Peter's Dome and the setting sun.  In a few hours AD XXIII May MMXI will become part of history too.  What a spectacular way to finish up my 3 day whirl through Rome. 

By the way, in the lower right quadrant of the photo above is a building on the Via dei Fori Imperiali where Mussolini lived and used the large open window to greet the public and watch passing parades.

Dinner on the terrace with Dana, Tom, and the boys was wonderful.  Vegetables and pasta from the local markets were a treat.  It was so good to catch up on what's happening in their lives and to see the boys thriving in all they do.  Michael, the 11 year old, has decided he wants to be a pope so he can take the name Sixtus -- and be Sixtus VI.  Why not, he would live just down the via!  

After hearing that, there was not much else to do but take the following obligatory photograph and bid everyone arrivederci.  It was a very special evening that I will never forget.  Molte molte grazie, Dana and Tom.

Dana and Tom K.

When in Rome - (Lunedi -- il terzo giorno)

A beautiful, clear, blue-sky Monday morning on the Via di San Martino ai Monti! 

The Hotel Tirreno (in the distance)

After breakfast, I pull out the tourist book and decide how to spend my Monday morning.  I've got the afternoon planned at the Vatican, but my morning is free.  I decide on the Spanish Steps and the Fountain of Trevi, so I hop in a cab and head out.  

Okay, fine, I get to the Spanish Steps, get out of the cab, and take a look.  I see steps... I see tourists... I think Spanish... and that's all very nice!  But I get back in the cab and go on to Trevi.  

Maybe the "Three Coins in a Fountain" place will grab me differently.  I know once it gets in my head, that song grabs me (almost as much as does "It's a Small World" at Disneyland).  As I hum along with Dinah Shore -- "  ...which one will the fountain bless...which one..."  , we seem to be driving forever.  This Fontana di Trevi is pretty well off the beaten path; not in some big public square.  We twist and turn our way down some fairly small streets eventually finding it tucked into a clearing where a bunch of little streets come together.  

Fontana di Trevi

And it's jam-packed with tourists (like me!).  " ...make it mine...make it mine..."    I find it's difficult to back up far enough to take a full photograph.   But alas, there's the little Church of Saints Vincenzo and Anastasio nearby whose steps afford a vantage point for some photos -- and a place to sit, out of the sun for a bit.  After taking a quick look around the pretty church and viewing the fountain from every angle (all while paying tribute repeatedly to Jule Steyn, Sammy Cahn, and Frank Sinatra), I'm off on foot down one of the small streets, heading out of 1954 Hollywood and back into the present-day wonder of this Eternal City.

I find a cab and make a fairly long trip across Rome to Vatican City.  I'm greeted with the sight of several long lines -- ticket-holders, non-ticket-holders, those with reservations, those without reservations, etc.   Since I've got my ticket, I'll wait 'til closer to my scheduled 1 p.m. admission time to get into a line.  I find a place right across the street for lunch.  The cheese plate is perfect and the obligatory after-lunch-gelato comes with a memorable scolding from the Gelato Lady.  You see, I pointed to what I wanted and spoke the word "limon."  Shamefully, it seems the gelato to which I pointed was not "limon" but was "crema."  Thank you dear Gelato Lady, I've learned my lesson:  I shall not ever forget what "crema" looks like.  Actually everyone within earshot around me will probably never forget what "crema" looks like!

Time to go across the street and be within the walls of the smallest country in the world -- the Vatican.

The Vatican Museum

With all the people standing in lines outside, I'm amazed how speedy the entry to the museum is.  I just walk up to the door since everyone else with 1 p.m. tickets is already inside and I am left to start my wandering in these endless rooms unimpeded.  

Before I embark on my artwalk, I visit the gift shop, looking for something small yet meaningful for Laura and a gift for Dana and Tom who are having me to their home for dinner this evening.  While in the shop, Emma pops up in front of me and says hello.  She, Debbie, and Charlie were about to begin their guided tour of the museum.  It's the last time I will see them as tomorrow they leave for home and I go on to Vienna and Frankfurt.

I start out with paintings -- lots of paintings...of Madonnas, of the Deposition, of various saints.  My mind is a blur after an hour or so.  And I later learn my flash shows up in each and every photo of a painting.

Madonna and Bambino c. 1500 by Mariano di Austerio da Perugia

I then come upon the fantastic Faberge eggs and other Russian miniature things.  The egg below, with tiny family portraits and important events, was presented by Emperor Nicholas II to his wife Empress Alexandra in St. Petersburg on their 15th Wedding Anniversary in 1911.

The Anniversary Egg

I now enter many rooms of sculptures -- gods, saints, popes, Jesus, noblemen...

  Then we have a couple of rooms of animal sculptures.

Outside in this courtyard there is the beginning of a spring shower.  I'm following signs for the Sistine Chapel so I enter the long low building pictured below where I find this very long, very busy ceiling.  Here, thankfully, there are open windows along the way.  The thick humid air here is unlike what we have in northern California and I need air.

Then, after many left hand turns, right hand turns, up many stairs and down many other stairs, I reach the Sistine Chapel...along with, it seems, 5000 others.  Down some final steps I join this HUGE crowd, all standing shoulder to shoulder, and all looking upward. 

The ceiling of the Sistine Chapel

It's dark and hot and humid in there.  I notice that the recently restored colors are quite bold and the ceiling is jam-packed with scenes, and that surprises me.  But I'm about to freak out.  I manage to snap just 3 pictures and then make a beeline towards the opposite end of the space and begin to look for exits.  I'm close to having my first-ever anxiety attack.  My mind is racing, conjuring up all the danger inherent in being in this small overcrowded, unventilated space with no easily identifiable exits.  After I do find a small exit, I follow the path to get out.  It twists and turns, up and down really narrow passageways for several minutes, until I'm finally deposited at the door to the outside.  People are huddled around the door, blocking egress because it is raining very heavily now.  I squeeze my way past everyone, get out, buy an umbrella from a street vendor, and look for a cab.  Since I'm just not in the mood for more walking, either in the rainy gardens or in St. Peter's, I get a cab and go back to the hotel.  St. Peter's will have to be seen on another trip to Rome.  Right now it's time for this aging tourist to rest some hips a bit before heading down to Dana and Tom's for dinner, the account of which will appear in the next chapter of this blog.

When in Rome -- (Domenica -- il secondo giorno)

Sunday morning in Rome.  After an early breakfast at the hotel, I change rooms.  The new room is more spacious but minus the interesting view.  The room is comfortable, that's all that matters on this busman's holiday.

I'm dressed and ready to start the day.  First activity on this Sunday morning is church.  Not just any church, but an Anglican Church.  Right ... I'm in Rome, and I go to a Church of England service on Sunday morning? 

Well, my friend Dana who, with her husband and 2 sons, left New York for Rome 2 years ago in the financial shakeup, is the guest preacher this morning at All Saints Church on Via del Babuino.  I get myself a cab and am there in minutes.  It's a beautiful church, classic and yet relaxed. 

The Sanctuary of All Saints Church

I let Dana know I'm here and she introduces me to several ex-pats who worship there.  I then take a seat behind her husband and 2 sons and their friends as the service starts.   Dana's sermon is about Chekhov's Uncle Vanya and the differing personalities in Vanya's life and how in our lives we encounter a similar cast of varied characters...and how we can make changes and comfortably do things we never thought we could do.  Made me think of my life journey; how well (or not well) I've assimilated past life changes along the way and how open I might be to changes down the road.

After church, I head towards Piazza del Popolo and sit outside at a cafe and have a cappuccino (it's before noon!) and a light lunch, topped off with gelato.  I'm directly across from the twin churches of Santa Maria Miracoli and Santa Maria Montesanto, which were commissioned by Pope Alexander VII in 1658.  In the center of the Piazza is the Egyptian Obelisk that in 1589, Pope Sixtus V had moved from the Circus Maximus to the center of this square. The obelisk was originally built in 1300 BC and was taken from the Sun Temple in Heliopolis in 10 BC by the Roman Emperor Augustus and erected at the Circus Maximus to commemorate the conquest of Egypt.  

Today the piazza is being readied for some kind of rock concert so it's jumping with activity and swarming with interesting people.  I wonder how Chekhov might have developed the character of some of these people and what words he would have given them!  It's the perfect place to hang out and people-watch. 

The twin Churches and the Egyptian Obelisk

.

I have tickets for entry to the Galerie Borghese at 3 pm, so I head over to the Villa Borghese Gardens and do some more Sunday afternoon people-watching.

The Villa Borghese

(I see an impressionist painting lurking here)

I spend several hours in the Gardens and in the Gallery, viewing the treasures of the 16th - 18th centuries including Bernini's "David" and "Apollo and Daphne," Raphael's "The Deposition" (secretly removed from the Baglioni Chapel in Perugia in 1608). Also, the painting, "Sacred and Profane Love" by Titian, Caravaggio's "David with the Head of Goliath," and "The Deposition" by Peter Rubens.

The original sculptures and paintings in the Borghese Gallery date back to Cardinal Scipione's collection, the son of Ortensia Borghese - Paul V's sister - and of Francesco Caffarelli.  Subsequent events over the next three centuries entailing both losses and acquisition have left their mark:  Cardinal Scipione was drawn to any works of ancient, Renaissance, and contemporary art, yet was so ambitious that he promoted the creation of new sculptures and especially marble groups to rival antique works.  In 1807, Camillo Borghese sold Napoleon hundreds and hundreds of statues, busts,  bas-reliefs,  columns, and various vases, which constitute the Borghese Collection in the Louvre.  But by the 1830s these gaps seem to have been filled by new finds from recent excavations and works recuperated from the cellars and various other Borghese residences.

Now, I'm tired and hungry, so I find a cab and, as it whizzes by all sorts of public squares, roundabouts, statues, fountains, and churches, I make my way back to the Esquiline Hill to find a neighborhood trattoria where I can order a plate of uncomplicated Spaghetti Bolognese.  I want to taste native spaghetti with meat sauce.  (I found out that I like our version better--except here the Parmesan is quite fantastic). 

After supper I do some shopping, have another gelato, and then head home to the hotel and relax with my netbook for the rest of the evening.

Tomorrow -- a fountain, gelato, the Vatican, and then Dana's for dinner!

When in Rome... (Sabato -- il primo giorno)

On Saturday, May 21st, Deb, Charlie, Emma, and I board the Rome-bound 10:10 a.m. high-speed Eurostar from Florence's Santa Maria Novella Rail Station to the Stazione di Roma Termini. 

Tom and Deb

From our comfy first class seats, for an hour and a half we watch the Italian countryside smoothly whiz by. 

Arriving in Rome just before noon, I split from the group and walk to my nearby hotel.  The Tirreno is a smallish hotel on a tiny street in the Monte Rione section of town, near the Basilica of Santa Maria Maggiore.  I chose it for its location and because it had free wireless service (I'm addicted to my new little netbook).  Soon after getting in my room -- a single, booked online weeks earlier -- I decide I will probably die of claustrophobia.  The room is actually taller than it is wide.  To get to the window, I must walk sideways through a 3 ft wide section of the room already containing a desk and chair.  But from that window there is a view that captures the charm of the neighborhood.

Instead of unpacking, I head back downstairs to the desk and ask if I could possibly have a different room. The guy at the desk says, "No problem, not today, but as soon as someone checks out in the morning you can have a very nice double room at no extra charge."

With that settled I head out to the streets of Rome to wander around.  I gravitate to the aforementioned Basilica of Santa Maria Maggiore which commands a presence on the top of the Esquiline Hill.. 

The Basilica of Santa Maria Maggiore

It's my first church in Rome, so of course I am amazed by what's inside.  Only later did I find out that it is considered the most beautiful church in Rome, after St. Peter's.  The building was renovated in the 18th century and still contains the "triumphal arch" of 5th century mosaics and other medieval artwork.  This gilded coffered ceiling overwhelmed as soon as I walked in the door.

After spending hours at the Basilica, I leave and continue my wandering in the neighborhood around the hotel where there is plenty of Roman atmosphere for a first-time roamer (groan) to soak up.

In the evening, following a short nap, I head out to meet the others for dinner at La Taverna dei Fori Imperiale, located deeper in the Monte Rione neighborhood.  Streets become passageways not fit for autos.  So a circuitous route is taken to get me as close as possible to my destination.

La Taverna dei Fori Imperiale

My friend Dana (who lives here in the Monti neighborhood) recommended the restaurant, calling it her family's favorite.  I had made reservations before leaving the States and, having mentioned Dana's name when doing so, we receive royal treatment from the owners.  Everyone there knows Dana, Tom, and their two boys, Sam and Michael.  The place soon fills up and (except for our undercooked shrimps) the evening turns out to be superb.  

After a very full day, beginning at our villa in Florence and ending at a pleasant trattoria on the charming Via Madonna dei Monti in Rome, it is time indeed to collapse in my tiny room at the Tirreno.  Claudia calls us cabs and they soon arrive, dodging pedestrians while driving in reverse up the narrow street to get us.  

The schedule for "domani" looks pretty full too.

Who says, "Getting There is Half the Fun?"

Day 1 – 13 May 2011 - Leaving California 

Terry takes me to the Sonoma County Airport for the 8:45 a.m. shuttle bus to SFO to get the 1:15 p.m. daily United Airlines flight to Frankfurt, which arrives the next day at 9:45 a.m.

Day 2 – 14 May 2011 -- Saturday in Florence

I change planes in Frankfurt to a Lufthansa flight to Florence.  The Lufthansa employee at the gate tells me I cannot take my small suitcase as carry-on since she contends that my laptop suffices as my one piece of allowable carry-on luggage.  That laptop case is smaller than many women's handbags.  But she insists that my carry-on bag be checked.  She tags it, says it will be taken to the flight, and will re-join me in Florence. 

Well, an hour or so later at 2 p.m., I arrive in Florence…and my suitcase does not.  After flying for 14 hours, I then spend an additional hour in a queue for the Lost and Found Department of the Florence airport.  I am told the suitcase will be on the next flight coming in from Frankfurt, which is due in at 5:30 p.m.   Well, 5:30 comes and goes – and now they say my suitcase will arrive at 7:15 p.m.  I sit in various places in the airport to while away the time.  At one point I go to the 2nd floor for a change of scenery.  I take the elevator.  Halfway between the 1st and 2nd floors, the elevator stops.  It doesn't go up and it doesn't go down.  I wait a minute or two before I ring the bell.  The bell is answered by voices in Italian -- no doubt telling me to remain calm and probably to push various buttons.  I did neither.  It was now 6 p.m. on Saturday and I had been on the road since 8 a.m. on Friday.  So I shouted back “no capeesh Italiano” and the Italian people stopped talking to me and just continued with mechanical sounds.  After about 15 minutes, the elevator jolts to a start and lurches its way to the second floor.  I get out and stay put in one spot for the next hour waiting for my errant "carry-on" bag.

Because of the lost luggage, I had to send the driver away who I had hired (and pre-paid) to pick me up to take me to the villa we had rented.  I was able to shout from the restricted international baggage area to him as he stood with my name on a cardboard sign.  He shouted back to me in Italian.  Kind volunteer translators relayed our messages to the other and he tells me that he could not wait three more hours until 5:30 (the original arrival time of my luggage on the next flight from Frankfurt).  I hired this guy because I had previously canceled the car I had rented because the directions to the villa were very complicated and I thought the first attempt to find the villa should be made with a local person driving.  So, anyway, I lost 45 Euros on that transaction.  Deb, Emma, Charlie, and the guys were to have arrived at the villa earlier in the afternoon from Venice.  I had no phone numbers for anyone or for any house phone at the villa – and the Florence airport had no wireless internet service -- so I was unable to contact them to explain my not showing up mid-afternoon as planned.

Well my bag arrives at 7:30 p.m. (not at 2 p.m. or 5:30 p.m.).  I am now able at last to take a taxi to the villa.

Well, a harrowing 20 minutes later the cab gets to Via San Felice, 31 -- the villa gate -- and we find it very wooden, very tall, very solid, and securely locked.  The house itself must be beyond the fields of olive trees and down a long gravel driveway and is not in sight as I peer through a small window in the gate.  I shout Debbie’s name over the wall, but no one hears me.  I have no way to get through the villa gates.  I get into a dither.  I ask the taxi driver to drive me back to the nearby Porta Romana Gate where I did see some possibility of finding internet access so I could email Deb.   After trying 3 or 4 hotels we finally found a pensione on Via Romana called the Annalena.   It has a wireless hotspot and also had a room available for the night -- an apartment actually.  I rented it.  I just wanted to find a place to sleep and I would deal with the villa gates in the morning.

La Pensione Annalena

In my 15^th century rooms, I email Deb with my tale of woe.  In the morning I receive an email back from her and we arrange for them to collect me at the Annalena.  Deb and Scott come around 11 a.m. and are a welcome sight.  Rob stayed downstairs in the car, parked on a narrow sidewalk on a narrow street.  So narrow in fact that we all had to inhale for busses to cruise by – at their normal rate of Italian crazy speed – somewhere near 40 mph.

We pile into the car and travel a bit further down Via Romana so Scott and Deb can do some grocery shopping while Rob and I stay parked on a sidewalk again with traffic whizzing by.  

Deb and Scott eventually reappear, and we all go “home” to the villa.  This is the stunning place where we would spend the next 7 days.

The Villa

There we join Deb’s sister Charlie, daughter Emma, and Rob’s boyfriend Tom.  I move into my bedroom – the red room.  Beyond it is a full bathroom, a sitting room, and a small single bedroom.  Charlie had found the night before that she preferred the solitary confines of that small bedroom and so moved out of the room she was to have shared with Emma. 

The villa itself is amazing.  It has 5 bedrooms on various levels which sleep 9 people and there are only 7 of us.  There is a large living room with a fireplace and French doors opening to the patio above the pool.  There are 2 other sitting rooms as well.  The fully equipped kitchen is adjacent to a formal dining room with French doors to the patio.  4 bathrooms and a laundry room off the patio complete the layout.  The pool and outdoor shower near the pool are surrounded by old stone walls with beautiful terracotta urns atop the walls' columns.  

Only one mile from Porta Romana, the historical southern gate into Florence, this beautiful Florentine villa is situated on the hill of "Poggio Imperiale" in the heart of the Tuscan countryside, surrounded by olive groves, gardens and fruit trees.  The property looks out onto a beautiful Florentine hillside as well as the Villa del Poggio Imperiale: in the 1600's, the residence of the de Medicis; in the early 1800's, home of Napolean's sister, Elisa; and later, the Austrian Granddukes of Tuscany.  From our villa we also see the Arcetri Observatory near where Galileo was exiled to continue his astronomical research after being called to Florence in 1610 by Cosimo II dei Medici. 

The Arcetri Observatory

It was Saturday night and we had energy only for a villa-style sink-board supper.  As if by magic, many containers of prepared Italian dishes appear on the dining room table.  Deb and Scott do know how to food shop in any country!  It's Emma's 25th birthday so we top off the supper with a birthday cake, accompanied by a large votive candle for her to blow out.  

Emma on her Birthday

After a game of 20 Questions we all toddle off to bed to rest up for our second full day in Florence.

Next Week - Off to Firenze and Other Fun Places

 
This will be our home away from home next week.  A villa just a few kilometers outside of Florence.  Debbie Meyers, her daughter Emma, and sister Charlie, 3 other guys (Scott, Rob, and Tom) and I have rented it! 

We'll have a chef who will give us cooking lessons, using goods from the local Tuscan markets, right there in our own kitchen.  

Side trips to Portofino, Lucca, Siena, and perhaps other food hotspots should round out our Tuscan food experience.  I'll report back on our culinary exploits before I go off to Rome on the 21st of May where I'm excited to be seeing the Vatican Gardens and old friend Dana English and her family.

A Week in New Mexico

A week ago Saturday, I traveled to New Mexico to meet up with Carleen who was finishing up a Habitat for Humanity project in Santa Fe. We spent the next week on the road. Looking back, it was, in addition to validating a lifelong friendship, a week full of great sightseeing and fabulous food. Our itinerary took us to Albuquerque, Santa Fe, Taos, Ghost Ranch, and back to Albuquerque.

The first couple of days were spent in Albuquerque. Our initial plans were to ride the tram up Sandia Peak -- the longest tram in the world. However, dressed for 5000 feet above sea level (and not for a colder 10,000 feet above sea level), kept us on the ground. The snow and frigid temps up above deterred our going up and we decided to return the next day more suitably dressed. So, we headed for a visit with Rosemary Bledsoe, a friend from San Francisco, who had recently moved to Albuquerque to be nearer to her daughter and family. We had a nice visit with R.B. and her beautiful granddaughter, Aeryn. She gave us some good leads of what to do in the area. Lunch that day was at The Frontier and was followed by a walk around the campus of UNM and its wonderful contemporary sculptures. This one that Carleen photographed raised many questions -- not least of which was -- were these actually 2 men?


Later that day we headed to Old Town and were treated to an enactment of a Wild West skit with drunk men and unhappy wives and loud guns loaded with blanks. And we headed for a restaurant suggested by my friend Duane Garrett and found it closed. Ended up picking another restaurant nearby, managing to get in before it too closed (at 6:30 pm!).

In the morning we ventured forth to Petroglyph National Monument http://www.nps.gov/petr/ where there are more than 20,000 images of people, animals, insects, and geometric designs created in the rock centuries ago. In 1986 the entire 17-mile escarpment was placed on the National Register of Historic Places and in 1990 it was designated a National Monument. To the American Indians the entire monument is a sacred landscape and stories are passed on from generation to generation. In addition to the rocks and the geology of the place, it was where we first began to notice the native plants of the area. The shades of green go from richly verdant to almost tan. This spectrum was omnipresent throughout our trip. All week long we were bombarded by colors of these plants and the freshness of the Spring greens in the new leafing on the aspens and cottonwoods...plus the stupifying cloud formations. Cameras do not do any of it justice, so we tried to commit to memory each hue and form for later replica-tion (in our artwork -- each of us likes to think (s)he is an artist! -- ahem!).

Leaving Petroglyph, we headed for the Turquoise Trail, a national scenic byway between Albuquerque and Santa Fe. http://www.turquoisetrail.org/ It proved to be a jaw-dropping incredulous 62 mile-long drive that wended its way through spectacular wide-open country. Each winding turn along the 2 lane road brought us to yet more stunning vistas. Small towns along the way seemed forgotten in time. That is... until we reached ...Madrid. http://www.turquoisetrail.org/stops/category/madrid/ We soon learned it's "Mad' rid" and found many local artists in their shops and galleries. One shop, http://www.colorlightarts.com/ was particularly wonderful with its artists' offerings and its equally wonderful proprietor named Suzie who hippily moved west from Albany NY in the 70's. Needless to say, we used some of our spending money there. We lunched at "The Hollar" where the outside world had already met up with Madrid. http://thehollarrestaurant.com/index.html We each had a salad with goat cheese and roasted peppers among the greens and veggies, al fresco. It was perfect!

In Santa Fe, our accomodations at the Villas de Santa Fe (on Griffin St. which is near to impossible to find) turned out to be small condos. (Priceline was good to us, folks!) We each had a living room and a kitchen in addition to a large bedroom. We each had two TV's too (I guess one was for video games!). That evening, we went off to find a local grocery to stock our refrigerators with yoghurts, salsas, juices, etc. Also that evening I began a serious bout with altitude "sickness." Lightheadedness to the point of falling over and what seemed like extra pressure on my chest kept me inside the next morning, while Carleen went out walking. But that afternoon I joined her and we spent time at the Georgia Okeeffe Museum on Johnson St. With short documentaries and docent-lead tours, Miss O'Keeffe's place in the art world came to life (as did I).

That evening we had dinner at the gorgeous Santa Fe home of Car's friend, Susie Chapin, and her partner Doug Smith. Small world that it is, it took no time to find out that Susie has a sister here in Healdsburg and that Doug and I both worked for Avon 3 floors apart at 9 W 57th St in NYC during the same years in the 1970's. Dinner was wonderful with a roasted chicken as the star. As a "high-altitude roasted chicken," it required a higher temp to cook and took twice as long as down here near sea level. So the lively evening went on a bit longer than usual.

The next morning, we enjoyed The Santa Fe Plaza, the Cathedral and Basilica of St. Francis of Assisi (patron saint of Santa Fe), and world famous Canyon Road full of art galleries. Do you know that Santa Fe is the third largest market for art in the US behind NYC and LA? One amazing artist we both liked is Nigel Conway, who exhibits at the gallery called gf contemporary, http://www.gfcontemporary.com/. Click on "artists" and then on "Nigel Conway." His lovely wife, Sabine - in her "thrift shop" Prada skirt, spent a goodly amount of time with us. (their home is in Mad'-rid on the Turquoise Trail). Nigel says his art comes from the stripping of masks and societal roles. Take a look, you might concur!

We then hopped in our car and started the drive to Taos. We took the "high road" so we could visit Santuario de Chimayo, the place everyone tells us to get the "holy dirt." It is located in a Spanish Colonial settlement established in 1740. http://chimayo.us/ Upon entering the town, we first visited the Chimayo Museum, a small 3 room adobe, with typical viga style roof and dirt floors, down a gravel path and across a snow-melt ice-cold rushing stream. http://www.chimayomuseum.org/ On exhibit were high school students' artwork -- from paintings and sculptures to jewelry, woven cloth and rugs. We voted for our favorites and then proceeded in our quest of the holy dirt.

We soon arrived at the Santuario, which is a very old church on a large tract of land alongside a river swollen with spring run-off from the nearby mountains. In small dark rooms off the sanctuary we found walls lined with forsaken crutches and walkers, and then we spied the holy dirt. There was a hole approximately a foot in diameter in the middle of the floor of a small room. It was filled with sandy dirt. I don't know if the dirt automatically multiplies occasionally to keep the hole filled or if someone brings some in periodically, but it was full at the moment I was there. As I filled a small plastic container with some, we broke with the solemnity of the place and wondered together what the result would be if we mixed the holy dirt with holy water! Dear Lord, forgive me, please!

Back on the high road we stopped at a small restaurant called Rancho de Chimayo for lunch. http://www.ranchodechimayo.com/restaurante/restaurante.htm A wonderful chicken fajita salad and another notch in our unbroken string of good eateries (don't you just love mixed metaphors?)!

Most of the week, there was so much sky visible from horizon to horizon that we could see several distinct weather systems all around us, yet miles away. Towards our arrival in Taos, we knew we were in for an afternoon thunderstorm. The rains came and were severe but they also left very quickly. We were soon able to poke around the Plaza de Taos and made reservations for dinner at Doc Martins at the venerable Taos Inn near the Plaza http://www.taosinn.com/restaurant.html.

I think Doc Martins might be the place to be when one is in Taos. In any case, not being in the know, nothing else in town looked appealing. This place, with a lively jazz band in one room, was jumping with life. And the menu was lively as well. Carleen ordered rattlesnake and rabbit sausage as a first course and my main dish was wild boar spare ribs. After waiting a long while to be served, we heard a loud crash and saw our ready-to-serve dishes fall off a service table. After sweeping up the broken china mixed with bits of rattlesnake, rabbit, and wild boar, our poor waiter asked if we could be patient as the chef would have to start over. In the end, our meals were worth waiting for. I did decline, however, an offer "to taste" the sausage!

After a good night's sleep punctuated by another amazing hail and thunder storm with wind howling outside the rooms' windows, we enjoyed our complimentary full breakfast and then headed off to the Pueblo de Taos http://www.taospueblo.com/.

We arrived at the pueblo after a rainy night so the unpaved streets of the pueblo were almost ankle deep in mud -- a mud unlike any I've seen back east or in California. This mud's consistency is quite thick (and very slippery). It caked our shoes until the next day. It is, indeed, a perfect building material.

Upon first entering the pueblo we came across the ruins of an ancient church and a cemetery still in use. With just simple wooden crosses, it had a striking beauty.

We walked around the pueblo for a few hours. No running water, no electricity, and all cooking is done in wood fire ovens. While some of the buildings are fairly new, others are over 1000 years old. Most receive an annual repair coat of new adobe. Many of them have ladders leading to the roofs. I found out that in olden days there were no doors to the buildings. To gain entry one climbed the ladder to a roof where there was an opening for entry and for sunlight. This served as protection as well. They just pulled up the ladders and foes were held at bay. The Red Willow River runs through the center of the pueblo and provides all the water for the residents. In addition to the flat land where the structures are located, the pueblo lands include many square miles of land up the sides of the nearby mountains.












Slipping, sliding, and squishing our way back to our car, we took off our adobified shoes (which could have kept each of us at the bottom of the East River for weeks) and started our journey west to Abiquiu and Ghost Ranch http://www.ghostranch.org/.

Ghost Ranch was given to the Presbyterian Church in the 1955 by the Pack family. For the 19 years I worked at Old First Church, pastoral staff and congregants would flock to Ghost Ranch each summer for a couple of weeks of rest, relaxation, and stimulating educational courses. I never seemed to get there. So, If there was one place I wanted to be on this trip to New Mexico, it was Ghost Ranch – if only to see what all the fuss was about!

The drive from Taos to Abiquiu was spectacular. Several times as we rounded a bend, we had a “Holy Cow” or “OMIGOD” moment and had to pull over to be part of what was in front of us. The geology of the region and the colors of the hills and cliffs were awe inspiring.

As we got closer to the Ranch, the level of spectacular-ness increased. By the time we arrived at the Ranch it seemed we had just been through a live travelogue.


We checked in at the office, got directions to our cabin, and got our meal tickets for dinner. We had a small cabin with 2 bedrooms and a living room. Adobe with the Southwestern architectural highlights, including viga ceilings. Quietness prevailed – except for a few minutes of sudden hail. Our 24 hours there were not filled with Southwestern Sunshine. Clouds and showers were the name of the game.

Carleen found (yet another) labyrinth and a hiking trail that afternoon, and off she went to add to her miles of steps she was giving to a charity. (She did at least 5 miles each day that week (some going in circles) to accumulate more than the 100 miles pledged for the month of April!).

I was able to hook up with a docent-led tour of the private acres and acres of the vistas made famous by Georgia O’Keeffe in her paintings.













http://www.ghostranch.org/museums--activities/georgia-okeeffe--tours.html
Miss O’Keeffe in 1940 talked Arthur Pack into selling her his own residence, called Rancho de los Burros, and 7 acres surrounding the house, and he built himself another home on the Ranch. After her husband, Alfred Steiglitz, died in 1946 she left the east coast and moved to her houses in Abiquiu and Ghost Ranch full-time.

We spent about an hour and a half stopping at various places around the Ranch where she painted a particular picture. We were able to drive down some private Ranch roads to see her home (now owned by a Foundation set up to preserve her legacy). http://www.nps.gov/history/nr/feature/wom/1999/o

Dinner was early (i.e. 5 pm early!). We managed not to show up until 5:45 pm and then enjoyed our cafeteria-style excellent tacos. After dinner, we spent some time in the 24/7 Ranch Library, catching up with a week’s supply of newspapers. Carleen did some more walking and I turned in early.

After a very peaceful cozy night’s sleep at the Ranch's Cedar Cabin we finished our breakfast, did some catching up with emails on the computers, and departed. We were heading back to Albuquerque where we had tickets to The Gathering of Nations. But not before we stopped at Bode’s, the general store in Abiquiu. (Abiquiu constists of this store and the Post Office, I think). http://bodes.com/. Take a look!

We got to Albuquerque early and were able to check in at The Hampton Inn. Of all the Priceline lodgings we were at this week, this was by far the most plush and one of the least expensive. Wonderful beds with many down pillows and duvet, soft thick towels, and refrigerator and microwave in each room. And a “Business Center” open to guests with internet and fax service, free copier, paper, desk supplies, etc.

The Gathering of Nations is the getting-together of more than 100 Native American tribes for their annual pow-wow. This year it was held outdoors at the stadium of the University of New Mexico. http://www.gatheringofnations.com/.

On Friday we were able to attend the contests held for the various nations to present their dances. The dancers were judged and prizes were awarded. We were overwhelmed by the beauty of the native outfits – hundreds of them. I’ve never seen so many feathers and beads and so much doeskin. Most of the outfits made noise as well – like the rustle of beads or the jangle of bells. It was truly festive – and organized as well.

This is a photo of the young girls' dance of the shawls.  But who would have thought that sitting in a stadium in April in New Mexico that we would be freezing our tushes off. Well we were, so we left the stadium after a couple of hours and headed into town for dinner.

We had stopped for drinks earlier in the week at a very nice place (also recommended by Duane) called Seasons.  See website.  We weren’t hungry that first night so we didn’t eat there, but were impressed by the menu. So we headed back there this night. What a providential decision! Carleen ordered artichoke raviolis and the best margarita she says has ever had. I ordered pan-seared sea scallops with bulgar & wild rice and chanterelles. The scallops literally melted in my mouth. The meal was the best meal of the week for each of us.

I’ll remember Albuquerque as the place where my last activities as a visitor were dining on perfect sea scallops and sleeping with clouds of down pillows.  Soon it was 6:00 am on Saturday and we had to get to the airport for our trips home – Carleen to Connecticut and I to California. What a fabulous week!

Thanks Car for the great number of your photographs I swiped for this blog!