As we left the carpark of our Roswell motel, the satnav gave two simple commands, 'Turn right. Drive 158 miles'. After a three hour drive, through billowing dust storms and across windy plateaus while dodging speeding balls of tumble weed, still on that same road, the robotic lady gave just one more command 'Turn left', and we were crossing the city limits of the beautiful city of Santa Fe, nestled at the southern tip of the Rocky Mountains. With an elevation of 7,260 feet (2,134m) and being just 15 miles from the highest ski resort in the USA, it...is...cold! Although the spring weather is just on the horizon, nightly temperatures are currently around minus 4C or 25F, but having been in shorts and T-shirts on an Australian beach just two weeks ago (and having enjoyed nothing but super hot weather since leaving the UK last August), it was quite a shock.
Santa Fe is a real gem of a place in a part of the world where a strip of motels, convenience stores and chain restaurants gets called a town. It hosts world famous open air opera every summer, boasts a 1 mile long street of nothing but art galleries, contains the oldest house and the oldest church in the USA (both built in the 1600's) and oozes Mexican, Native American and European history, culture and architecture - having been ruled / owned by each on at least one occasion in the past. Boutique art and antique stores, all in the traditional wood and clay "Pueblo" style, encircle the historic town plaza with popular New Mexican cantinas overlooking the action from first floor open-air balconies. As one wanders the ancient streets and alleyways, the nearby snow tipped peaks pop in and out of view and the chilled mountain breeze leaves faces glowing and hands stinging upon entering the log fired coffee shops or bars.
For lunch, we followed an online 'locals' tip and wandered nervously to the back of the old town's most famous general store, The Five & Dime, where the landmark snack bar serves a world famous dish. 'Two Fritos pies,' I asked, not even knowing how to pronounce it, let alone what it actually was.
'It's spicy!' the tabarded lady replied. We agreed that "spicy" and "New Mexican spicy" are two very different things and so she handed us a small sample pot containing what was, indeed, a mightily spicy beef chile. Determined to find out exactly what this hallowed dish is, we paid our cash and waited as she disappeared into the adjoining kitchen.
She emerged after just a few minutes brandishing in each hand what looked like an opened packet of crisps cupped in a wad of paper napkins. And yes, they were packets of crisps - mini tortilla chips, "Fritos" to be exact. They had been slit open along the side and, straight into the bag, on top of the chips, a large spoon of beef and bean chile had been poured, topped with a mound of grated mixed cheeses and with a plastic spork wedged into the whole concoction. A quick search of Wikipedia suggests that this dish, popular across all of the southern states, was actually invented in this very store (way back when it was a Woolworth's). Now, the Americans always claim not to have any 'real' history, but when it's this delicious, who cares?
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| Downtown Santa Fe |
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| Fritos Pie! |
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| Pueblo architecture - one of only two styles permitted in the downtown area. |
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| "I got my first real six string..." |
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| Street Art Santa Fe Style |
Hats, gloves and jackets have been purchased and will no doubt be put to the test as we head further north to Monument Valley and the National Parks of Utah where more sub-zero temperatures await...
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