SANTA FE, NM – Day 6

Each minute I spend in the Southwest, I’m struck by how similar the landscape is to Mexico. Maybe we should just give it back for the sake of harmony.

The first hint of road madness crept in about 6.28 hours into the day’s journey. Maybe it was leftovers from the wine tasting the day before, but you start thinking about driving, and driving, and driving, except that you can’t remember the miles you’ve previously driven. And you start wondering where it is you’re actually going (Vegas, baby, Vegas!), and the humming of the car starts sounding suspiciously like a song you heard before, except you can’t remember the words. It has no words, actually, that’s why they call it humming.

In Santa, Fe I had turkey enchiladas and my first real reminder of portion-size in the U.S. Huge. Plus, it tasted nothing like the D.F., which sort of depressed me, although the waitresses were artsy and cute and friendly to a guy eating at the counter reading Harry Potter, exactly what I pictured waitresses to be in an over-priced, trendy, yummy place called Harry’s Roadhouse in Santa Fe. The town itself was underwhelming, with a lot of faux-art and a lot of real art that I’d never put on my walls. Not a big fan of Georgia O’keefe, and even less of O’keefe wannabees, which are in no short supply in Santa Fe. If you like her, then click here, or better yet, go there. It’s $8 to get in, which is a rip-off. There was a landscapes exhibit that I checked out. I spent 10 minutes trying to go wi-fi because I picked up a signal from being parked in front of the local public library. Then I realized that the library probably had free computers and internet, which of course it did. Duh.

The madness continued as I tried to make it to Flagstaff by nightfall. I was hoping for a stunning Arizona sunset and all that over the Painted Desert, but I got this instead, which I finally realized was due to some forest fires burning in the region. Kind of spooky. I had a book on dinosaurs when I was a kid, and the sky always looked this color in the illustrations. Guess the author was from around the region.

Made it to Flagstaff. The kid working the desk at the Holiday Inn was a total punk. I wanted to punch him in his smug little goatee.


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