Baked-in Artistry in Albuquerque, New Mexico

Within hours of landing in Albuquerque, it became clear that almost everyone in New Mexico is an artist. Or has artistic hobbies. Or champions art vigorously. Even the frozen yogurt place is a gallery.

As one gallery owner put it, “This is the most supportive artistic community you’ll find.” He wasn’t exaggerating. Of course, it doesn’t hurt that Santa Fe (45 minutes away) is the third largest art market in the US. Or that artists can actually make it thanks to the affordable cost of living. ($30,000 is “an abundant salary,” we were told.) But there’s more to it, and I’ve been ruminating on just that.

One visible clue is the state’s film incentive program, which offers rebates, loans and tax breaks. Not surprisingly, it’s made the state a hotbed for film and TV production. “We love filmmaking in New Mexico,” handmade signs read on the roadside. Apparently 28 films were shot in Albuquerque alone in 2008. While some politicians have been critical, the population remains enthralled.

But perhaps the best example of this artistic proclivity is the Golden Crown Panaderia, which we visited the very first day. Located in the Old Town section of Albuquerque, this tiny neighborhood bakery is a single-father-and-son operation that is guaranteed to make an impression – emotionally, olfactorily and gastronomically.

The first thing you notice is the wonderful smell (from the fruit empanadas), which prompts you to inhale deeply and soften a bit. Not that New Mexicans need that. But this overworked urbanite did. Then we were handed a free biscochito, a crispy butter cookie flavored with anise and cardamon. It's the endearing "welcome bite."

Order it online here.

Having a famous specialty bread is just the beginning, though. The exuberant, indefatigable, 70-year-young Pratt also makes bread art. What’s that, you ask? Well, it’s making a horse and carriage out of bread for his son’s birthday. (See old photo below.) Or a bread turkey for vegetarians at Thanksgiving. Or bread busts of people’s heads. It was fairly astonishing to see all that one could do with bread.

Pratt mixes various dough to produce color variations (yes, all skin types are possible) and carefully orchestrates how the bread rises in his massive oven. He’s currently working on a bust of Jay Leno, he shares. Listening to this delightful raconteur, I felt my face hurting from smiling so much. I also noticed strangers striking up conversation and the convivial atmosphere infecting everyone. This was truly the “golden crown” that started the trip so auspiciously.

How did I feel around all this warmth and creativity? The word would have to be inspired. We talked to a guy from Ohio who decided to make custom water fountains – because he thought he could. We spent time in a shop specializing in Ukrainian Easter eggs. Nothing is too out there in New Mexico, and perhaps most importantly, there is the feeling that you can try anything because no one will judge you.

Soon my boyfriend was pondering the large-scale mobiles he’d build in the studio/barn, and I was listening to a female poet on New Mexico public radio, thinking, “I bet I could write a lot of poetry in a place like this.” In the dramatic high desert setting, with colossal mountains and endless views, it seemed easier to reflect on life. I guess that happens any time you can see for hundreds of miles and realize your own itsy bitsy role.

Thus, my first and strongest takeaway from New Mexico is that the possibilities seem as wide open as the environment and as optimistic as the people, who (teaser alert) would go on to eclipse Austinites in the battle for “Most Friendly.” Yes. Believe it. Who won “Most Weird”? That one’s going to a tiebreaker round, folks. Stay tuned!

A Big, Dysfunctional Family in Madrid, New Mexico

Highway 14 (aka Turquoise Trail) is the scenic highway connecting Albuquerque and Santa Fe. You could say this is the route for non-commuters, lollygaggers, dreamers and, on the weekends in high season, tourists. Anyone who’s in a hurry takes Interstate 25 (75 mph), but blissfully, we were not.

Starting in Albuquerque to the south, you begin at the base of the Sandia Mountains, which tower over Albuquerque. (See some amazing photos here.) There is literally no spot that doesn’t have a view of them. You then unsuspectingly climb much higher in route to Santa Fe (7,000-feet high,), which is a fact is of no small significance. Though these cities are less than an hour apart, there is a ten-degree temperature difference due to the altitude. If it’s 70 degrees in Albuquerque, expect it to be 60 in Santa Fe.

The snowy shot above is me at Sandia Peak (at 10, 768 feet, the highest point in the range). You reach this point by car from the east (as we did), or by the world's longest aerial tramway from the west. At the top, altitude stupidity set in for us, producing some very silly photo-taking, as well as an impulse buy of a green turquoise ring at the gift shop. (For the record, I still love it.)

And yes, I said altitude stupidity, not altitude sickness. Although I did experience a few moments of dizziness and dehydration the first few days, what I experienced more intensely was feeling dumb as a rock. For example, I “lost” my cell phone, only to find it in my hand. Twice. Rather embarrassing stuff like that. So when people talk about the effects of altitude here (such as actor Seth Rogen, who said that his difficulty breathing while filming in New Mexico is the reason he had to lose weight), they really need to include a warning about this one!

As you get further from Albuquerque on Highway 14, the terrain changes from evergreen mountains fed by snow to high desert. Then suddenly you find yourself in Madrid, a town so kooky that it makes Santa Fe seem almost staid. The first clue? It’s pronounced “MAD-rid, not “Ma-drid.” The second? It’s almost entirely populated by artists, some 300+ of them. (A fact often quoted is that it has more artists per capita than anywhere else in the US.) “We’re a big, dysfunctional family,” one of them told us cheerfully.

A former mining town deep in a gulch, Madrid is like a Wild West outpost, freethinker’s refuge, art gallery and little bohemia all rolled into one. Every old house facing the road has been converted into a gallery or store selling art, sculpture, snacks and more. In many cases, the wares are out front, and the artist lives in back. Everyone know everyone, and with no more building permits available (due to a lack of water), the town has been saved from modern development.

Despite the tiny population, you can get a drink at the Mine Shaft Tavern, a coffee at Java Junction (also a hat shop and B&B) and a gourmet meal at The Hollar. You can buy all manner of art. You can even buy rent movies at the general store (pictured below). But more importantly, you can interact with lots of spirited artists. Some are incredibly friendly, others are wary of newcomers (one artist told us it took him five years to “get into the club”) and many are full of love/hate for the tourists who fuel the town. But it’s safe to say that not a single one of them seems to want to leave.

The same could not be said for the "ghost town" of Cerillos, just three miles north. From the looks of it, everyone has left. But it turns out that’s not really true, and those who do live here enjoy the façade of a deserted place. That way, no one bothers them. It’s spooky driving through a seemingly abandoned town that you know has people in it. (Mary's Bar, pictured below, is still operating, believe it or not, with 91-year-old Mary Mora behind the counter). There are walled compounds that contain hints of life, but not for your prying eyes to see. Compared to colorful, commercial Madrid, Cerrillos is the place to truly hide – not just from people, but from the present day.

Back on Highway 14, it isn’t long before we reach Santa Fe and are assaulted by the unimaginative, copycat nature of the modern world. (That is to say, the southernmost parts of Santa Fe developed in recent decades.). Strip malls. Starbucks. Or our Holiday Inn Express, built self-consciously to look “rustic” and “Southwestern.” Yes, it was perfectly comfortable and not unattractive, but who are they fooling?

Fortunately, downtown Santa Fe remains one of the most distinctive places in the world, with its twinkling artistry and singular architecture. It’s a bright spot in the sea of sameness, with Madrid as its most defiant satellite. But is it still my top geographical crush?

Stay tuned for the answer to that as well as a full report on Austin, Texas. (Sorry that I'm so behind!)

Desperately Seeking Santa Fe, New Mexico

I’ve been eager to return to Santa Fe since I started this blog in June 2008. My quest at the time was to find my geographic soul mate, and Santa Fe loomed as potentially “the one.” I’d last visited on a post-college road trip, and of all the places we stopped, it stood out as the city with the most unusual, peaceful lifestyle. And truly, there is nowhere like Santa Fe, which is why it’s ranked the second best place to live in America by Sperling’s Best Places as well the number four destination in the US by Conde Nast Traveler readers.

Since the start of the blog, however, a lot of things have happened. I’ve gone on dates with long-standing crushes (e.g. Charleston, South Carolina), old flames (e.g. New York, New York), and new, unexpectedly beguiling suitors (e.g. Los Alamos, California; Apalachicola, Florida.) I’ve thought a lot about the right size city, as well as other criteria like home prices, culture and airport proximity. And perhaps most importantly, I’ve questioned whether I should be looking to hunker down in one place for the rest of my years. After all, is that really a fit with my intractable wanderlust?

The result is that I’ve dispatched the notion of a “long-term match” in favor of “my next great affair.” My new vision is that I still have several more places to live in me, and I should be looking for a place to spend the next five or so years with. This has been a fundamental shift in thinking, as I don’t have to reconcile things like: could I live in an arid desert forever? Or, will I ever return to the East Coast? Or, what about my dream of living abroad at some point? Now, I’m looking for the stepping stone that will help me relieve my ticking “real estate clock" and grow as a person.

So how did Santa Fe sync up when I finally visited in March? Beautifully, in all ways but one: price. Despite New Mexico’s generally low cost of living (it’s the 27th cheapest state in the US), Santa Fe is not a bargain. It’s the most expensive county in New Mexico, and thanks to its far-reaching reputation and million-plus tourists per year, it attracts wealthy retirees, transplants and second home owners who help keep the housing prices elevated. Case in point: while the average home price in Santa Fe County is down from 2008, it’s still averaging $440,000 thus far in 2009. As a true luxury destination, it’s also not unusual to see $1,000/night hotel rates and $35 dinner entrees catering to the elite visitors seeking refuge here.

Beyond this $$$ revelation, Albuquerque emerged as an affordable, livable city (area population 845,913) not to be overlooked, and I saw that the areas along the Turquoise Trail in between the two offered nature, space and privacy, the latter being something that had recently jumped in importance after one too many days working from home to the sounds of construction, car alarms and hyperactive yip dogs. If it was within reach to have more room, more acreage and more serenity for as low as $115/square foot, and be within easy driving distance of both Santa Fe and Albuquerque (including the airport), wouldn’t that be the best of all worlds? The answer: YES.

So you could say my crush on Santa Fe has not be extinguished - it’s only broadened to include the surrounding area, which encompasses desert, forest and mountains. The great joy of a state with only 1.9 million people (making it the sixth most sparsely populated state in the US) is that getting from place to place does not involve any of the pain, frustration and incivility that driving 30 minutes or an hour within LA can invoke. It’s frankly therapeutic for this Angeleno to be able to drive 75 miles per hour without stopping. The difference is that you actually do cover 75 miles in each hour you drive, versus spending 20 minutes stuck in traffic only to move half a mile.

Thus, the conclusion of my trip was that I don’t have to live IN Santa Fe to enjoy it. I just need to be nearby. That way, I can still grab an organic/fair trade coffee at the uber-funky Aztec Café (pictured above), an amazing Ayurvedic stir fry at yoga-centric Annapurna (when you sneeze, they say “Blessings”) or some down-home BBQ and brew at the Cowgirl Bar & Grill. Or I can head to the historic Pink Adobe restaurant’s Dragon Room lounge whenever I'm craving the Rosalita, the best margarita I’ve had in years, which is made with cranberry and gran gala, a triple orange Italian liqueur.

Maybe I’ll even rent a hot tub at the Zen mountain retreat Ten Thousand Waves. Because the relaxing drive just might wear me out.