Santa Fe: Who knew?

Here, have a random New Mexico sunset.

We weren't able to go to Sedona after the Grand Canyon because it would be dark by the time we got there. The reason I wanted to go at was for a natural water slide they have, but it wasn't on the itinerary to begin with so I guess I'll get over it. Maybe. We have followed our itinerary fairly closely, which is surprising. Apparently we need to give ourselves more kudos for planning than we thought, but I won't hold my breath on it as I still need to be back to work on Tuesday and it's still Arizona.

We slept at a rest stop just inside Arizona, and when we woke up, New Mexico was only a few minutes away. We grabbed coffee, and decided we loved how tacky the state was. Everyone calls you "mum" instead of "ma'am" and the chili cheesy tots are EVEN BETTER and everyone is nice! Like Oregon! Too bad they're so far apart. Except New Mexico is HOT. So hot that we were stuck in traffic around Albuquerque screaming "I'M BURNING! I'M BURNNNNINGGGGGG!!" and wondering why the hell we decided we wanted to go to the desert. It was apparently only 86 or something but that was a lie because it was so damn hot and burny. Our AC can't keep up with the heat. We have a black car with a black interior, so it's fairly miserable, especially when you leave it for a while and burn yourself on the seats and all the bits of silvery trim.

We decided to check out Santa Fe since we saved time by not going to Sedona and we're going to skip Carlsbad because it will be night by the time we get there.

Santa Fe is filled with really short buildings. It didn't really look like a city, and we went to the center plaza, which is a nice-looking condensed shopping area that looks extra un-city like. We parked, and walked into a store that touted native american crafts and fetishes. We wondered if they had some headdresses and stone carvings next to whips and chains, but apparently fetishes ARE the stone carvings. Lesson learned. The lady in the store said that all the glass cabinets were unlocked because apparently we don't choose the figurines, they choose us. We must have failed to meet their standards because we left empty-handed.

We grabbed some chocolates from a chocolatier, and they were good, but not as good as the place in Napa. The whole plaza is filled with store after store of native american crafts, and after browsing for a bit, we realized that there is a closed-off street where some some 30 or more native american vendors who have their crafts laid out on the ground. We kicked ourselves for buying anything else besides their stuff, because it was all gorgeous. All of it. And native american crafts aren't even really my thing, but there's something there for everybody. And they're all SO nice! I purchased a gift for someone, and the man asked how far it was going. I told him Massachussetts, and he thanked me and shook my hand. They're insanely nice, and I doubt they're all nice just so you'll buy their crafts because it was EVERY. SINGLE. PERSON.

We bought way too many shiny things, and I looked up yelp reviews for a Mexican restaurant. Yelp failed me. It was terrible. My chili was just a can of beans, some over-cooked meat thrown in, and a can of tomato sauce dumped in with some hot sauce for some kind of "flavor". Ang's chicken quesadilla was runny, greasy, squishy, and tasted wrong. We haven't eaten at sit-down restaurants on this trip much, so it's extra disappointing to get shitty food when we do. But, again, people were nice so we didn't really care.

There's a small park in the center of the plaza, so Ang and I decided to sit down out of the sun and chill for a bit. A guy in a wheelchair was playing a really big harp, although we weren't quite sure how he managed to move that thing around on his own.

Next to him, some crazy person was doing some weird kind of inverted juggling which consisted of him bouncing three balls on the ground while listening to his headphones. Then he got lower and lower until he was picking them up off the ground and placing them down again. The next time we looked over, he had one larger ball that he was rolling around his hand and up and down his arm. It might have been worth watching if he was wearing a David Bowie outfit, but only then.

Behind us was what appeared to be the biggest, fattest pigeon either of us had ever seen, so we stopped paying attention to the weird man with the ball fetish, and watched the bird dance around instead. After a while it occurred to us that we were probably watching a mating ritual between him and a nearby female pigeon.

Male: Look! Look! I can turn in circles! Look at me! See my pretty circles! Ooh! I can go the other way too! Are you looking? CIRCLES!
Female: *peck, peck* I like grass. *peck*
Male: Yes, yes, I like grass too. *peck, peck* But did you see my circles? Here's another one. Wooooo!! CIRCLE TIME!
Female: Yeah... I still like the grass better. *peck*

He abandoned that fruitless endeavor and twirled himself over to the next nearest female.

Male: Hey! Hey! Did you just see that double twirl I did? It was all for you. Just for you. Not her, I swear.
Second Female: *peck, ignore, peck*
Male: I'M GETTING DIZZY OVER HERE! PAY ATTENTION TO MEEEEEE!!!
Second Female: *peck, ignore, peck*
Male: *sigh*

Eventually he gave up, smoothed his neck feathers, and wandered away looking like a normal pigeon again. Better luck next time, man-whore.

Fuck all y'all! ...Please?