The story so far:
I had just settled in to an RV park near Madras, Oregon intending to spend the winter east of the Cascade mountains. A phone call came offering a job in Santa Fe, New Mexico.
The journey to NM was eventful. Outside of Salt Lake City I watched a speeding car collide with a semi truck, bounce off it it, and then careen into my Jeep, which was towed behind my motorhome. As I passed through my old home of Grand Junction, Colorado I had my mechanic look at it to confirm that it wasn’t damaged.
It was severely damaged. So I left it at a repair shop and proceeded to Santa Fe in the motorhome.
I chose an RV park and looked for a restaurant within walking distance. It was, of course, Mexican cuisine. While eating, these ladies came into the restaurant and began to perform:
I didn’t understand a single word they said, but it was a wonderful sudden immersion into the culture of New Mexico. That huge, bulbous guitar (or guitar-like thing, whatever it was) fascinated me.
The name “New Mexico” literally means: a new part of Mexico. It was established as an extension to Mexico in the 1600s as greedy, rapacious descendants of the Conquistadores went searching for the mythical “Seven Cities of Gold.” Santa Fe, its capital city, was established hundreds of years before the United States even existed.
New Mexico became part of the United States in 1848. That’s a long and convoluted tale better told by someone else, so I shan’t attempt it here. Perhaps
can cover it someday in one of her Substacks; she’s an expert in history; I pay more attention to geology.Everyone living there at the time was allowed to choose between remaining Mexican citizens, or becoming US citizens. Most chose to become Americans.
The culture is very decidedly Hispanic. All the names of streets and rivers, and most of the mountains, are Spanish words. Whites are a minority there, with most of the population being either native tribes (aka Indians) or Mexicans. The Indian reservations were laid out by the King of Spain in the 1600s. When you are there, you are walking and driving through history that is ancient, going back thousands of years.
And, there is a culture war between people who like green peppers and those who like red peppers! I remained neutral; I’m not fond of either one.
Santa Fe has a building code that requires new homes to look like adobe. Doesn’t have to be real, it just has to preserve the historical feel of the place. I would drive around town in my rental car expecting to see John Wayne coming around the corner in a stagecoach at any moment!
And a whole lot of homes are in a courtyard enclosed by low walls of adobe, including the RV park I stayed in. My initial spot was right across from the RV park office, which had two resident cats. One was named Mrs. Dash, and she considered my RV spot a part of her territory. She would walk in the house and make herself at home, as if she owned the place. Here she is, on my bed.
Pookie was not happy with that. She would hiss and snarl at Mrs. Dash, who just ignored her and did whatever she wanted. Interestingly, after I moved to a different spot, Mrs. Dash found my motorhome and continued coming in like she owned the place, even though we were no longer parked in her territory.
I was in Santa Fe a little over half a year, during which time I did some fine photography. Everything in this post was shot with my then-new iPhone 6. My next post, coming in only a couple of days, will be back to the usual stuff I shoot with my pro camera. And will include one of the top images of my lifetime.
Marvelous and well-told
Yes! I will have to expound on New Mexico’s history. Wonderful read about one of my favorite places.