Travelogue: Santa Fe, NM

When I think of the word desert, what comes to mind first is that scene from the Adventures of Tintin movie when Tintin and Haddock crash-land in the Sahara. Mile upon mile of rolling sand dunes; cloudless cerulean skies; relentless heat bearing down from the sun. 

This is not what I saw when my family and I crossed into New Mexico from Texas.

Instead of rolling miles of sand dunes, it was taupe scrubland, dotted with mountains, with curling masses of white cloud obscuring their tops. Instead of dry and hot, it was cool (like 59° Fahrenheit cool), and damp, like a Midwest autumn day. The rainfalls we'd encountered had followed us all the way to the deserts of the southwest. Thus, instead of bright cerulean skies, we had gray overcast, with only the occasional ray of light peaking through. The roads wound their way through these scrubs until we reached the city of Santa Fe.

Unfortunately, by the time we got to the city, it was pretty dark and we were hankering to find shelter. As such, we didn't get a chance to pass by the one place I would've like to have seen in the city: the John Cocteau Cinema. For those of you unaware, that's the movie theater owned by none other than George R.R. Martin, author of the Song of Ice and Fire series, among other fun literary works. Back when Game of Thrones was still on everyone's radar, Martin held marathon screenings of the show at the theatre, and he regularly hosted other great writers at and near the theatre, including Stephen King, Joe Hill, and Marlon James.

The next day, we took a brief drive-around tour of the city. One of the major characteristics of Santa Fe that I noted was how laid back the town was. You'd think that a city located in the middle of a desert would have a bit more angst and edge to it, but no. It had the feel of a lot of the suburbs around St. Louis (minus all the problems the suburbs of St. Louis have). 

For my siblings though, they were not impressed. 

Another defining characteristic of Santa Fe is its architecture. Whoever planned the city designed most of the buildings to resemble adobe houses, like those you find in Mexico and even still in Central America. In theory, it's a great choice because adobe brick is perfect building material for hot climates; its light coloring doesn't absorb as much heat as brick, which means the interior is always cool. However, when you pass through a whole city whose buildings all are built the same—same building material, same aesthetic, same color (sort of a russet brown, like sandstone)—it starts looking weird. 

My sister, after looking at the 356th adobe house we passed said, "God, it's so boring. I'm over it."

So, we all started to play a game called Spot the Odd House. (You can do it with your family on your next road trip.) What you do is, when passing through a town where all the houses look eerily similar, as if you're going through a subdivision about to be used as the set of a horror movie, you take turns scouting to see if you can spot the houses that don't seem to belong. Do all the houses have shingled roofs? Try to find the ones with tin roofs. Are all the houses made of yellow brick? Try to find the ones made of yellow, or even green, brick. Are all the houses made of adobe with the same fake wooden logs sticking out the front of them near the flat roofs? Try and find the ones made of gray cinder black with peaked steel roofs. 

Speaking personally, I actually liked the city quite a bit. Honestly, if ever I had to leave St. Louis because the place had truly gone to hell in a hand basket (which, let's face it, could happen at any time at this point), the place I'd probably head would be Santa Fe.