There’s something about New Mexico. Its magnetism can activate wanderlust from thousands of miles away. Like the time a friend and I stood speechless in London’s Tate Modern, gaping at a painting by Georgia O’Keeffe.

“Black Cross with Stars and Blue” is one of O’Keeffe’s earliest depictions of the land that became her obsession.

Feeling Transported

The image transported me to a place where stars are more defined, shadows blacker, and blues more astonishing than anywhere else on earth.

There’s something about wanderlust for the Southwest. New Mexico’s history is one of convergence: diverse cultures summoned across centuries from as far as the Bering Land Bridge, the kingdoms of Spain, and Mexico’s Sinaloan coast.

From the American East came wagon trails and railroads, Highway 66 and the Interstate. Today, airline contrails trace the sky with arrivals from every corner of the Earth.

Feeling the Itch

“If you ever go to New Mexico, it will itch you for the rest of your life,” O’Keeffe said. You don’t get New Mexico out of your system. It becomes part of your system, the way a seed becomes a network of hidden roots. There’s a reason it’s called The Land of Enchantment.

Years earlier, I’d traveled around New Mexico, riveted by the landscape: Ribbons of green obsidian, red rhyolite, and silvery tuff flowing across rock. Washboard roads so rutted a spider’s legs traveled faster than truck wheels.

Cliff dwellings protected by glittering curtains of sudden rain. Blood-red mountains sheltering forests of chrome-yellow cottonwoods. Unlit byways where one’s eyes slowly distinguished black mesas from indigo sky.

I thought I had New Mexico figured out. But like land sculpted by the elements, New Mexico is always changing, and whenever you return, New Mexico changes you.

Feeling Curious

I arrived during the slow season—too early for the open-air Santa Fe Opera, too late for group tours that had gone on winter hiatus. Would there be more to Santa Fe than upscale boutiques clustered around the Plaza? Would Santa Fe be just a pleasant interlude, “New Mexico Lite”?

Feeling the Unfamiliar

There’s something about life at 7,000 feet above sea level. As I trekked to the hilltop adobe that would be my home, my heart drummed. The feeling was unsettling, as my lungs whispered Guess who’s mortal?

Soon, however, hiking at high altitude became natural. The more I walked, the more I hankered to walk.

I picked up Elaine Pinkerton’s Santa Fe on Foot: Exploring the City Different. On every walk, I met people who encouraged conversation. New Mexico is neighborly, and Santa Fe is downright friendly.

Feeling Welcome

I never did make it to the Visitors Center. I just visited with Santa Feans, who scribbled lists of favorites: pueblos and palaces, bird walks and dharma talks, trail hikes and town halls, farmers’ markets and folk art, research centers and shopping centers, coffee shops and workshops.

Feeling Inspired

Thanks to locals, I saw the annual Nuestra Musica at the Lensic. Where four-generation families sang canciones and conjured armonía from saws and cigar-box guitars.

Where a former lieutenant governor turned musician led the house in a rousing recitation of popular sayings known as dichos. (My favorite: Buscando trabajo y rogando a Dios no hallar. “Looking for work and praying to God not to find any.”)

Where 94-year-old Antonia Apodaca proved that every age is the right age to sing of love, blow kisses, and dance for joy.

My days became threads that wise hands wove into the pattern of Santa Fe culture. At every museum, a docent took me under his or her wing, sharing knowledge they’d spent a lifetime acquiring.

The more I discovered, the more I wanted to learn. Books accumulated on my bedside table. I stayed up late perusing Santa Fe histories, novels, maps, and photos. I went to readings and lectures. The mysteries multiplied.

Feeling Enchanted

There’s something about Santa Fe that surprises. Things I’d considered clichés commanded new respect: Once, I was woken by the howl of a coyote, a sound so sharp it cut a gash in the thick, dark stillness of the night. I could feel the reverberation long after that singular sound had ended.

Because there’s something about Santa Fe. “When you take a flower in your hand and really look at it,” said O’Keeffe, “it’s your world for the moment.”

When wanderlust led me to Santa Fe, I expected a pleasant interlude. But it flowered into a fascinating world.

$\"A$

Santa Fe strips away its own layers to reveal greater surprises. (Big Adventure Comics<\/a>, Montezuma Ave.)
\u00a9 Joyce McGreevy<\/p><\/div>\n

When Wanderlust Leads Southwest<\/strong><\/h2>\n
There\u2019s something about New Mexico. Its magnetism can activate wanderlust from thousands of miles away. Like the time a friend and I stood speechless in London\u2019s Tate Modern, gaping at a painting by Georgia O\u2019Keeffe.<\/p>\n
\u201cBlack Cross with Stars and Blue\u201d is one of O\u2019Keeffe\u2019s earliest depictions of the land that became her obsession.<\/p>\n
Feeling Transported<\/strong><\/h4>\n
The image transported me to a place where stars are more defined, shadows blacker, and blues more astonishing than anywhere else on earth.<\/p>\n
Oh, I see:<\/strong> I had to return to New Mexico.<\/p>\n
$\"Turquoise$ In Santa Fe, an unpaved road may lead to rare\u00a0 art collections.<\/a>
\u00a9 Joyce McGreevy<\/p><\/div>\n
There\u2019s something about wanderlust for the Southwest. New Mexico\u2019s history is one of convergence: diverse cultures summoned across centuries from as far as the Bering Land Bridge, the kingdoms of Spain, and Mexico\u2019s Sinaloan coast.<\/p>\n
From the American East came wagon trails and railroads, Highway 66 and the Interstate. Today, airline contrails trace the sky with arrivals from every corner of the Earth.<\/p>\n
$\"An$
The Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe was once the nation’s number one railway<\/a>.
\u00a9 Joyce McGreevy<\/p><\/div>\n
Feeling the Itch<\/strong><\/h4>\n“If you ever go to New Mexico, it will itch you for the rest of your life,\u201d O\u2019Keeffe<\/a> said. You don’t get New Mexico out of your system. It becomes part of your system, the way a seed becomes a network of hidden roots. There\u2019s a reason it’s called The Land of Enchantment.<\/p>\n
$\"The$
Santa Fe draws travelers home to the unfamiliar.\u00a0
\u00a9 Joyce McGreevy<\/p><\/div>\n
There\u2019s something about returning to a place you thought you knew.<\/p>\n
Years earlier, I\u2019d traveled around New Mexico, riveted by the landscape: Ribbons of green obsidian, red rhyolite, and silvery tuff flowing across rock. Washboard roads so rutted a spider\u2019s legs traveled faster than truck wheels.<\/p>\n
$\"Colorful$
The tiniest details of New Mexico fascinated me.
\u00a9 Joyce McGreevy<\/p><\/div>\n
Cliff dwellings protected by glittering curtains of sudden rain. Blood-red mountains sheltering forests of chrome-yellow cottonwoods. Unlit byways where one\u2019s eyes slowly distinguished black mesas from indigo sky.<\/p>\n
I thought I had New Mexico figured out. But like land sculpted by the elements, New Mexico is always changing, and whenever you return, New Mexico changes you.<\/p>\n
$\"The$
Art galleries in Santa Fe may cater to\u2014or gleefully confound\u2014expectations.
\u00a9 Joyce McGreevy<\/p><\/div>\n
Feeling Curious<\/strong><\/h4>\n
I arrived during the slow season\u2014too early for the open-air Santa Fe Opera, too late for group tours that had gone on winter hiatus.\u00a0 Would there be more to Santa Fe than upscale boutiques clustered around the Plaza? Would Santa Fe be just a pleasant interlude, \u201cNew Mexico Lite\u201d?<\/p>\n
$\"Santa$
Skip the camera filter. Purple sunsets are a common occurrence in Santa Fe.
\u00a9 Joyce McGreevy<\/p><\/div>\n
Feeling the Unfamiliar<\/strong><\/h4>\n
There\u2019s something about life at 7,000 feet above sea level.\u00a0As I trekked to the hilltop adobe that would be my home, my heart drummed. The feeling was unsettling, as my lungs whispered\u00a0Guess who\u2019s mortal?<\/em><\/p>\n
Soon, however, hiking at high altitude became natural. The more I walked, the more I hankered to walk.<\/p>\n
I picked up Elaine Pinkerton\u2019s Santa Fe on Foot: Exploring the City Different<\/em>. On every walk, I met people who encouraged conversation. New Mexico is neighborly, and Santa Fe is downright friendly.<\/p>\n
$\"Travel$
Independent bookstores like Collected Works (shown), Travel Bug,
and Op. Cit. thrive here. Their events draw crowds.
\u00a9 Joyce McGreevy<\/p><\/div>\n
Feeling Welcome<\/strong><\/h4>\n
I never did make it to the Visitors Center.\u00a0 I just visited with Santa Feans, who scribbled lists of favorites: pueblos and palaces, bird walks and dharma talks, trail hikes and town halls, farmers’ markets and folk art, research centers and shopping centers, coffee shops and workshops.<\/p>\n
$\"Green$
At Santa Fe Farmers’ Market<\/a>, Cloud Cliff croissants feature green chile and cheese.\u00a0
\u00a9 Joyce McGreevy<\/p><\/div>\n
Feeling Inspired<\/h4>\n
Thanks to locals, I saw the annual\u00a0Nuestra Musica <\/em>at the Lensic<\/a>.\u00a0<\/em>Where four-generation families sang canciones<\/em> and conjured armon\u00eda<\/em> from saws and cigar-box guitars.<\/p>\n
Where a former lieutenant governor turned musician led the house in a rousing recitation of popular sayings known as dichos<\/em>. (My favorite: Buscando trabajo y rogando a Dios no hallar<\/em>. \u201cLooking for work and praying to God not to find any.\u201d)<\/p>\n
Where 94-year-old Antonia Apodaca<\/a> proved that every age is the right age to sing of love, blow kisses, and dance for joy.<\/p>\n
$\"Renowned$
As a child, Apodaca practiced on a broken accordion rescued from the trash.
\u00a9 Joyce McGreevy<\/p><\/div>\n
My days became threads that wise hands wove into the pattern of Santa Fe culture.\u00a0 At every museum<\/a>, a docent took me under his or her wing, sharing knowledge they\u2019d spent a lifetime acquiring.<\/p>\n
The more I discovered, the more I wanted to learn. Books accumulated on my bedside table. I stayed up late perusing Santa Fe histories, novels, maps, and photos<\/a>. I went to readings and lectures. The mysteries multiplied.<\/p>\n
$\"The$
At contemporary art space SITE Santa FE<\/a>, a concert may include a celebration of silence.
\u00a9 Joyce McGreevy<\/p><\/div>\n
Feeling Enchanted<\/strong><\/h4>\n
There\u2019s something about Santa Fe that surprises. Things I\u2019d considered clich\u00e9s commanded new respect: Once, I was woken by the howl of a coyote, a sound so sharp it cut a gash in the thick, dark stillness of the night. I could feel the reverberation long after that singular sound had ended.<\/p>\n
$\"A$
Santa Fe’s dry, high-desert climate is no stranger to sudden thunderstorms and snow.
\u00a9 Joyce McGreevy<\/p><\/div>\n
$\"A$
\u00a9 Joyce McGreevy<\/p><\/div>\n
Because there\u2019s something about Santa Fe. \u201cWhen you take a flower in your hand and really look at it,\u201d said O\u2019Keeffe, \u201cit\u2019s your world for the moment.\u201d<\/p>\n
When wanderlust led me to Santa Fe, I expected a pleasant interlude. But it flowered into a fascinating world.<\/p>\n
Comment<\/a> on this post below, or inspire insight with your own OIC Moment here<\/a>.<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":null,"protected":false},"author":15,"featured_media":30225,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[190,162,199],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-30213","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-art-travel","category-encounters-culture","category-usa-mappoints"],"aioseo_notices":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.oh-i-see.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/30213","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.oh-i-see.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.oh-i-see.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.oh-i-see.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/15"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.oh-i-see.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=30213"}],"version-history":[{"count":37,"href":"https:\/\/www.oh-i-see.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/30213\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":40941,"href":"https:\/\/www.oh-i-see.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/30213\/revisions\/40941"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.oh-i-see.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/30225"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.oh-i-see.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=30213"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.oh-i-see.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=30213"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.oh-i-see.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=30213"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}