Taos, New Mexico

For the last week I have been relaxing in one place and getting to know Taos a bit.

This part of the world is so different that it takes some getting used to.  There's the wind, for one thing.  I thought of the desert as many things.  Hot, dry, bright, open, a different set of colors, but windy hadn't occurred to me.  Then I saw the signs along the highway that said: Zero visibility possible.  I saw miles and miles of low pines and sage and tumbleweed and other things I couldn't identify.  But what was there to reduce the visibility to absolutely nothing?  Then I saw that the wind was not just rolling tumbleweed across the road.  That dust was picking up quite a bit.  Thankfully, I was never around the zero visibility level, but I began to see how it could happen.  Especially the next day when an interstate was closed because of the dust.  I was beginning to learn that this country demands respect.  That was on the way to Taos.

So I was ready to hang out and just relax for a day or two when I got here.  There was a packet of mail to go through and laundry to do and maps to collect and go over and plans to make for day trips.

Even the maps here are intimidating.  I'm not used to seeing large areas marked as wilderness.  And the roads.  Taos is in a valley but it's still at almost 7,000 feet so mountain roads are involved in going almost anywhere.  I think the ones around here are actually the easy ones but to a New Yorker who is okay with traffic, but not so much with hairpin turns and descents you don't argue with, this takes some getting used to.  I'm taking it slowly in every sense of the word by visiting the old adobe churches in the area, some in Taos itself and some in the up to 70 miles away range.  Out here folks would think nothing of driving 50 miles to get to a particular restaurant.  The concept of distance changes when the horizon is so far away and the vista is so spacious.  It's something I keep shaking my head over.  Perhaps by the time my month is over, I will have absorbed some of that attitude.  And gotten better at mountain driving.

Route 66

One of the other themes of this trip has been Route 66, the Mother Road.  I have been following it rather loosely since Route 66 as such doesn't exist any more.  It has been superseded by interstates, although there are route 66s in severe states.  I've tried to keep an eye out for the historic Route 66 as much as possible but have mostly just followed its general route from city to city.  Chicago, St Louis, on through Kansas, Oklahoma City.  After Scottsdale, I made a point of driving to Flagstaff and Gallup.  And as the song says, Don't forget Winona.  Someday maybe I'll pick it up again in Flagstaff and continue the rest of the route to California.

Wright Mania

I think I'm becoming something of a Frank Lloyd Wright groupie.  This particular part of the trip started with walking past Robie house in Chicago practically every day.  (It's about two blocks from Elly's house and on the way to the kids' school.)  I continued with a visit to another Wright house in Springfield, IL.  Then I remembered that Taliesin West was somewhere out there in the Southwest.  Having googled it, I decided to add Scottsdale, AZ to my itinerary.

It was so worth it.  Amazing setting and amazing architecture.  It was also my introduction to the desert in bloom, as Taliesin West sits in the middle of over 100 acres of desert land that is being preserved in its original condition.  So much so, in fact, that Wright boycotted bringing electricity to the area because he so disliked the sight of the utility poles and eventually the even bigger metal structures.  It didn't succeed, of course.  Electricity came to the area.  But Taliesin West is very proud of the fact that they have recently added solar panels which are quite well masked by the normal vegetation.  Vegetation which includes a form of cactus that gave Wright the idea of how to support the skyscrapers he designed.

Taliesin and its sister school in Wisconsin are still very much schools of architecture and the apprentices, as Wright insisted on calling them, still build their own structures for housing in the desert and sleep there, although there are dining and study and technical facilities available in the main buildings at Taliesin.  The solutions they have come up with to keep the packrats and other desert critters out of their structures are really amazing.  One of them actually suspended his living quarters off the ground -- after he carefully calculated the maximum height a packrat could jump.

I also discovered, and got to sit in, a Wright Origami Chair.  It is made of wood and looks as though it is a folded piece of origami with cushions.  It is also the most comfortable chair I have ever sat in.  If anyone ever comes across one of them or a source for them, let me know.

After the last stop on the tour, I finally became an official groupie and took out a membership.  After all, there are Wright buildings all along my route back east.  Or I can make it that way.

Desert in Bloom

When I set out on this road trip I wanted to see the desert in bloom.  That expression dates back to my botany courses at the University of Michigan.  I just wasn't sure when that phenomenon happened.  So I contacted a friend who lives in Arizona and asked if it would work out if I visited in April.  Would that work, especially if I might not get there until the latter half of the month?  Her response:  If you come in April, you won't be able to miss it.

Still worried, I set out with "desert in bloom" in mind.  Today I drove through parts of New Mexico and into Arizona.  Well, Sarah was right.  As I headed into Arizona, I began to see color off to the sides of the road.  Yellow, white, some red.  Even the cacti were in bloom.  I can't wait to get out and about and start identifying some of these blooms and trees.  I have a feeling it's only going to get more gorgeous.

Thank you, Sarah.  And thank you to Dr. Cover, my old botany teacher.  Yes, that really is her name.

Horizons

I'm on the road again and once again I keep finding surprises.  As soon as I got past Kansas City, the view opened out.  All at once, the horizon was a long, long way away.  As I continued on across Oklahoma and the Texas panhandle, it just got to be more and more.  It was like being in the center of the world.  I just had to get out of the car and turn 360 degrees to see it all.  The cloudscapes were phenomenal.  Something that you usually don't pay much attention to at all now has enough canvas to become a moving architectural show.  Stunning is the word that comes to mind.

The feeling that goes with all this openness and the amount of space you can see and feel is wonderful. Exhilarating and relaxing at the same time.  Driving along in the car, you feel yourself sitting straighter and your shoulders relaxing.  When you're actually outside with the wind added and cloud shadows and the smell of grass and rain, well the word becomes spectacular.  There's something that feels very, very good about having that much space before you get to the horizon.  Horizons suddenly seem not to be constricting, but inviting, opening you up and leading you on.

Chicago Time

I spent three weeks in Chicago and it was great.  Initially I was there to help out with a temporary babysitting crisis.  It was very reassuring - probably to all of us - to see how easily and well it all worked.  I got to see and learn a lot about my grandchildren Luke and Annie and possibly even a little about myself.  From Luke I learned about Lego and more specifically about the fact that you have to be very careful about constructing the base of your Lego building because "if you don't get the base right, things can go wrong."  Somehow I feel that there's a lesson about more than Legos here.  From Annie I learned about saying "please" even when you're giving instructions about building Legos.  When I finally did remember to add "please" to my instructions, her response was:  "It's okay, Gran.  I was going to do it anyway."  Now that is true courtesy.  I also learned about adding sparkles to just about every outfit.

There was also the great Easter egg hunt, which is sort of like being in the center of a small, but vocal tornado.  And getting lost finding my way home from buying the strawberry plants to be set out in the garden.  I knew something was wrong when I saw a sign for Wisconsin.  But the crazy route did take me through Oak Park and past the Wright house and studio.  Can't argue with that.

Then there was  also the concept of knit bombing (I do hope I got that right).  It's a totally non-violent activity in which a knitter emulates Christo (the one who wraps buildings and added orange gates to Central Park) by wrapping or decorating outdoor objects with knitted work.  At the University of Chicago quadrangle, it was knitted additions to trees, bushes, and lampposts and it was charming.  If I could only figure out how to upload photos, I would share some of them with you.

The last weekend there was a dance performance by UC student members of the South Asian Student Association (once again, I hope I got that correctly).  Rocking, roaring and incredibly diverse and beautiful.  As one description in the program put it: "India loves to dance.  That's why there are so many different styles of dance throughout India."  So much energy, so much fun.  Perhaps the most impressive, as well as moving, moment came at the very beginning.  The program opened with the national anthems of all the countries represented in the evening's dances.  First there was one person on the stage singing her anthem, a second joined her and made it a duet.  Then he began his national anthem and then another person joined him to make that a duet.  And so it was passed down to the last of the anthems and then everyone was singing together a poem composed by a poet from one of their countries.  The last words were:  "What are we waiting for?  Another sign?  Another call?  We have to find a way to peace."  Indeed, what are we waiting for?  I hope they keep that part for next year's dances.

UC Style

Today I spotted an extremely dusty car parked on one of the streets here in Hyde Park in the University of Chicago area.  Written in the dust were the words Wash This Car.  But it's the University of Chicago so it was written in five different languages.  I couldn't even identify some of them, let alone read them. Looks like the place is living up to its reputation.