In the BC era, Before Children, Marice and I traveled to
Santa Fe during the first half of December every year to breathe the crisp,
crystal-clear air of Northern New Mexico and view the simple beauty of the luminarias.
We loved the area at Christmastime. Anytime, really. But
Santa Fe is special during the holidays, a reflection perhaps of its
multi-cultural history – that amalgam of Native American, Spanish and White
influences that make it one of America’s unique cities.
We stayed at the St. Francis Hotel downtown despite its
teeny-tiny rooms because it was convenient to everywhere and had a cozy
ground-floor bar and a wood-paneled lobby with a magnificently decorated
Christmas tree.
We’d sit in the bar, sipping drinks and people-watching
before taking off for shopping along Canyon Road, visiting Loretto Chapel or
just wandering the streets, peeking into the city’s hundreds of art galleries
and gift shops. The city is aglow this time of year with thousands and
thousands of luminarias, simple but beautiful paper sacks half-filled with
sand and lighted candles – or the electric versions thereof.
Our days would start at Pasqual’s Café, located across the
street from the St. Francis. Just thinking of its huevos motuleños makes my mouth water even these many years after I had my
last plateful.
At some
point during our stay, we’d travel the High Road to Taos, making our usual
pilgrimage to the 1,000-year-old Taos Pueblo, the longest continuously inhabited
dwelling in America. Then we’d make our way to the Rio Grande Gorge outside of
town in late afternoon. There, we’d hang out with dozens of others who come
each evening to watch the sun set over the canyon, ending the day with a
glorious splash of pinks and reds that left us all with a sense of peace and
well-being.
On one of those trips, we picked up this ornament, which has
hung on every tree we’ve ever had.
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