The late autumn sun shines harsh over Santa Fe in late autumn. Such that buying a cowboy hat or wide brim fedora seems the most natural thing to do. You would blend right in here. Even men selling Virgin Mary shaped beeswax candles at the farmer's market were in collared shirts and cowboy boots with long hair and a respectable mustache.
I am in awe of a city brimming with shops selling the western wear a Californian has only ever heard about. My fashion dream come true. I would tell you that I saw a grown man in a fluffy sheepskin vest and thick leather belt with a big buckle, cowboy hat, boots, jeans, skinny tie. Except that passing him on the street it seemed I was the one dressed oddly. This was a city of cowboys and indians clipping through town in boots, selling the turquoise jewelry made by their own hands as they tell you about the land, this place.
I'm not sure I've ever seen so much art, so much incredible art, squeezed into one small spot. I had to take tea in the cafe near the train station just to let it sink in. The farmer's market - the German man selling some of the best bread I've ever tasted (which was still the best when I finished the last bit of whole wheat ciabatta with dinner today) or the woman walking home with a white cockatoo in a red, wool lined jacket on her arm. Everyone seemed to know each other or be somehow connected, the twelve year old working the register or the doctor with the baby she adopted from a homeless mother. Anywhere else I might have felt outside of it all, but that morning it was as if I was wrapped up in it, part of it.
People smile. Fit you with cowboy boots. Brush your hair to the side as they set another hat on your head, explaining how they might build a hat just for you, if you wanted. They honestly want to know where you're from - they don't just ask.
Finishing my tea, I thought I could live there. I would buy boots and a hat and learn to bake bread, to make something of myself. I'm still a bit lovesick for the place. If only it weren't for the lack of water, I might never have come back.
1 comment:
these desert dreams sound mighty appealing to somebody stuck in 31 degree weather right now.
that's the thing about the desert - it's so appealing! like a big pastel sorbet...but what would you (or i) ever do without trees? it's really for the trees that i have to stay in norcal. that and the ocean, bien sur.
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