My Southwest adventure/”soul” vacation – December 2017
Day V
It is a rich blessing in life to travel to distant places to
explore and experience a variety of cultures. Interacting one-on-one with
people who may not be like me, and who view the world differently, is a
challenge I relish. In a word, it’s perfect.
I am then exponentially rewarded when I return to my quiet
solitude. I am able to relive those experiences through writing.
Santa Fe is full of people who celebrate their existence
through color, music, and food. The day after Christmas, I decide to investigate
The Pantry for breakfast. I had been told by the clerk at El Rey Court that I
could walk to it, it was right next door, and that it was “pretty good” for a
longtime, locally owned restaurant.
From the instant that I walked into The Pantry, I had the
sense that it was more than “pretty good,” and was inspired with a desire to
capture and preserve its spirit in words.
I waited 10 minutes or so (groups waiting maybe 30 to 45
minutes to get a table) to get a seat at the bar. It had an old diner feel—low
stools, a crowded dining room, additional rooms in the back for overflow
diners, and short order cooks doing their magic within sight through an open
window behind the bar into the kitchen.
It isn’t their art that inspires me, again, so much as their
lives, themselves. I am fascinated by the choices people make in order to
pursue their bliss.
I walk the less than 100 steps next door to El Rey, and
finally sit elbow-to-elbow at the diner counter, watching the wait staff
adeptly process food orders and seating customers, seeing them call diners by
first name, watching the food come and go from the kitchen, taking in the menu
and daily special choices, always some blend of American and Southwestern
fare—with red or green chili sauce toppings, and institutionally-specific
renditions of local dishes.
I opt for the daily special which is a thin-sliced prime rib
covered in peppers, sautéed onions, and accompanied by two eggs, over “medium,”
wheat toast, pantry fries, and green chili gravy. Oh my. The pantry fries are a
specialty, red potatoes pan-cooked with onions and two kinds of paprika, and
some secret seasoning.
The food orders kept flying out incredibly fast considering
how many customers were seated or waiting. It was another A-plus experience. I
decide I will have to go again, during my short visit – and hopefully, in
future visits.
While seated, I met the young man who sat next to me on the
bar stool. He had dark curly hair and a beard, and introduced himself as Noah.
Noah volunteered that he was originally from New York and Connecticut, and had
moved to Santa Fe a dozen or more years ago, following a fellow musician. They
play in the local music scene. By day, Noah is a bartender at Santa Fe Bar
& Grill, and age 40, said he was satisfied with his life. Except on one
measure, he added. The relationship part.
That, of course, launched a discussion about the
relationships we had just ended. Mine almost three years, his two. He astutely
gauged that he has invested “in the wrong girl.” He said she had alcohol and
drug issues, that he had seen as a warning sign but had chosen to ignore. I
laughed, and noted that “she must have been very pretty!” He laughed, and replied
that “yes, she was.” He explained that
looks were very important to him, and that he tended to be attracted to women
younger than him. She was 28.
Noting the age difference, and the obvious red flags, I
brought up that I had been reading “Attached,” a book by psychologist Amir
Levine that provided a practical approach for people to understand adult
attachment styles in order to improve their intimate romantic relationships.
Noah was interested, so I told him more. I suggested he pick
up a copy of the book, and to “choose wisely” next time. He recommended several
local places to eat, from his resident perspective. He also offered that he was
working the lunch shift at the Santa Fe Bar & Grill tomorrow, Wednesday,
and that it was a good place to eat and meet other locals as a solo traveler,
suggesting that I would be comfortable there. I thought this was a good option,
so I said I’d see him there.
The rest of the day, I went back downtown, toured the
Georgia O’Keeffe museum using the audio app on my phone, with the earbuds I had
brought with me. Renowned painter O’Keeffe was an enigmatic figure—who was mentored
by famed American photographer Alfred Stieglitz (1864- 1946) who was 23 years
her senior and ultimately became her life partner—and bucked the male-dominated
art world at the time.
Stieglitz gave O'Keeffe her first gallery show in 1916 and
the couple married in 1924. Their
winter-spring love, by the way, has been chronicled in movies and their
many years of letter writing to one another have been preserved, studied, and
shared as they reconciled the desires for work, their art, with a marriage, and
are considered laced with the humanity and fragility that makes for a passion
far more interesting than fiction. Considered the "mother of American
modernism," O'Keeffe moved to New Mexico after her husband's death and was
inspired by the landscape to create numerous well-known paintings. Georgia
O'Keeffe died on March 6, 1986 at the age of 98.
A seven-minute video in the Museum was worth watching, as
well, with footage of interviews with O’Keeffe in her elder years. She was
remarkable, and though some locals commented during my visit that she was known
to be “rude,” friends who knew her—and who were interviewed for the biopic
video—said she was “witty, warm, and very human.” I thought that was a nice
thing to say about someone. In addition, it caught my attention that O’Keeffe’s
voice was recorded and played back on the video, saying, “here, I felt more
like myself,” regarding her move to New Mexico from New York at age 62. I
thought to myself, “wow, she made that move at ’62,’ maybe there is hope for me
yet!” Of course, the images of O’Keeffe in her New Mexico surrounds are also
iconic, as she was photographed in black-and-white images, and made herself
available for these throughout her storied and prolific years in the high
desert.
Here is a photo of O’Keeffe, at home in one of the two
ranches she renovated to suit her, this taken in 1956 at age 69:
I also walked to visit the New Mexico Museum of Art, which
was a disappointment to me except for the discovery of native artist Gustave
Baumann, whose exhibition of life works included woodcut prints (like Everett
Ruess’s chosen artform), as well as paintings, marionette creations, and
sculptures. The pieces on display intrigued me, though I was most captivated by
his prints, and I promised myself that I would keep an eye out for more
information or a book about him. Best-known for his work as a printmaker,
Baumann arrived in Santa Fe in 1918 and lived there until his death in 1971.
Here is a link to a 2014 article about him: http://www.santafenewmexican.com/pasatiempo/performance/theater/wood-stock-gustave-baumann-s-marionettes/article_3527ea39-ed13-5b90-8f6b-991c9498789d.html
And a photo, circa 1969, of Gustave Baumann with his
marionettes:
Day V also included encounters shortly thereafter with Anita
(who later emailed me that her real name was Donna XX) at the local coffee
shop, and with Kate Wheeler, owner of the Savory Spice Shop, who Anita
introduced me to. In the short time that I engaged with Kate while making my
purchases, she shared with me that she had moved and her demons had gone with
her, when she went to Australia, but since moving to Santa Fe had encountered several major life challenges, convinced investors to back
her spice business, was a former chef, teaching cooking classes and told me “I
like you.” Thanks, Kate. And thanks, Santa Fe.
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