Friday, May 15, 2015

Back Home: East of the Pecos

I don't like to travel.  It is as simple as that.  When I arrive at a destination, the first thing that crosses my mind is that I'll be able to go back home in (fill in the number) days.  I should modify that a little. If I am in, say, Belize for two weeks, there are all kinds of terrific things that happen:  snorkeling off the second longest barrier reef in the world, climbing to the top of Mayan ruins, catching barracuda and eating them on the beach, conversations with our friends, dinner at Elvi's Kitchen (with apologies to Frank Bonnano and the gang at Lou's Foodbar, the best fried chicken anywhere), breakfast on the beach at Estelle's.  Those are all things I can't do at home, but the list starts petering out at this point.

The fact is that there is a lot of time spent just hanging out in a foreign country and that drives me crazy.  I know I'm supposed to spend idyllic days hanging out at the pool or the beach reading mindless summer drivel and I do manage to polish off half a dozen books or so, but I could polish off those same books at home for a lot less money, money I could use to go to Mizuna every night if I wanted to for dinner.  That's the problem.  The two things I love to do more than anything--reading and dining out--can be accomplished without going through the baggage check at DIA, or sitting in a middle seat in tourist class.  (Tourist class!  Maybe that's the problem.  I don't want to admit I'm a tourist.)  Furthermore, with the exception of New York City, the restaurants in Denver are superior to the ones I've been able to find anywhere else and that includes Napa and the French Laundry.

There are two, maybe three, exceptions to my disdain for travel:  Jenny Lake Lodge, New York City, and Santa Fe. (If I were feeling better about Colorado's excuse for a baseball team, I would include Scottsdale for spring training.)  We stay at Jenny for two weeks every year (July 4 - July 18).  This will be our 17th or 18th year coming up.  Everybody knows us.  Everybody seems happy to see us.  There are all kinds of returning guests during that same time span who have become our good friends.  We hike, kayak, sit on the porch and look at Mt. Rockchuck, drink great wines, and eat great food.  It is the only place I have ever been I am not happy to leave.  I have even been known to shed a tear or two at the last glimpse of the Cathedral Group.  Our annual trip is only a month and a half away and I can't wait.

I can tolerate the plane trip to New York because if I had a lot of money, New York is where I would like to live.  Mostly, I tolerate it because I'll get to see Nate and Ashley and I'll probably get a chance to have lunch with the Monacos and I might meet up with Gavin and, of course, there's MOMA and The Met and Babbo and Morimoto.  Need I go on?

Realistically, Santa Fe is the only place I can see myself living if I ever left Denver (Not gonna happen.)  Kathie and I drove down there on Wednesday to meet the Monacos (Jenny friends) for dinner at The Coyote Cafe.  We had a wonderful mini-reunion--the four of us seem to have a ridiculously easy time talking and laughing with each other--and then we drove back Thursday morning.  Seven hundred and fifty miles round trip.  Six hours each way, but an easy drive.  Just put it on cruise control and follow I-25 all the way.

(One of my favorite things about driving to Santa Fe is crossing the Pecos River between Las Vegas and Santa Fe.  I alway think to myself at the moment of crossing that we are now West of the Pecos.  Makes me happy.)

The Monacos are looking for places to retire to and Santa Fe has perked their interest.  Kathie and I are rooting for them to make the move to New Mexico.  I have this romantic vision of life in Santa Fe for the well-heeled.  If you get involved in the art scene (how could you not?) and the opera scene (again, how could you not?), then I imagine Santa Fe life being one endless party.  Breakfast with friends at Cafe Pasquale.  Lunch at The Compound to celebrate your recent purchase of a new artist's work on Canyon Road.  Mid-afternoon drinks and bar food at the Cantina above the Coyote.  And, of course, tailgating with like minded people in the parking lot before the opera house opens its doors for that evening's performance of "La Boheme."

I could deal with that kind of life.  Of course, for that to happen Katherine is going to have to open up her knitting store on the plaza right next to Gusterman's.  Until then, however, we're just going to have to wait for Joe and Carol to buy some big adobe looking place up on a hill somewhere so we can come and visit.

In the spirit of full disclosure, we already have our reservations at La Posada for August and our tickets to "Rigoletto" and "Salome."  Can't wait.