In which we tie up some old reminiscences (New Mexico part III).

Oh dear, look what half-finished post I just found. From the Pre-Trump American Archives of Summer 2016:

Our next adventure took us west, out into the rugged desert to the Acoma Pueblo. I'd been there several times before and I'm sure it won't be the last time.

There were some pretty wet-looking clouds moving our way as we neared the end of the tour. Someone asked our guide if it was going to rain, which was quickly answered with "No, it never rains. I promise." To that, the sky replied, "Wanna bet?" and the clouds opened as we made our way down the steep mesa decline. We stopped for shelter from the downpour partway down the trail, huddling under an overhanging boulder while rain water trickled down the ancient steps and filled the hand-carved hand-holds in the rock wall. The water streaked down the cliff face, highlighting colors that are otherwise subdued in the stone. When it became clear that the trickle down the trail was becoming stronger as opposed to stopping, we carefully packed away electronics and followed the water's path.

A short time later, we got back to the visitors' center and lunched outside, though protected from the weather, and listened to the thunder crash and rumble. It made it's point, and then it left. As did we.

But before heading home, we took a detour farther west, to the Malpais, or badlands. There we stopped at the sandstone bluffs overlooking miles and miles of lava fields, and hopped around barefoot on the warm cliffs.

Later that evening: Old Town, New Mexican cuisine, quiet streets.

The next day took us north to Taos, in what I like to think of as the Toes of the Rockies, where a dear friend welcomed us into her adobe abode, treating us to the nigh-on spiritual experience that is her cooking and the warming comforts of her laughter and home. 

One deep sleep later, after PJ'd berry pickings and a divine breakfast, we packed a picnic and headed up to the local ski valley for some high-altitude hiking. Buzzing, babbling brooks, hidden meadows, soft sunshine dappling through greenly needled branches.

A return trip through an artsy mecca with holy hollyhocks and damn good ice cream, and it was time to say goodbye. First farewell to our wonderful host and fabulous hoohah of a cherished friend, and then farewell to my travel companion from Hamburg, who I deposited in a parking lot on the north end of town to start his next adventure -- hitchhiking north and east, destination Minneapolis, and Toronto. (Spoiler: He survived. We cooked dinner together last week, then drank champagne and ate truffles while watching a movie in 3D, classy glasses over our glasses). I drove the 150 or so miles back to Albuquerque, on my own for the first time in weeks, scanning through fuzzy radio stations and trying to watch the road instead of the dramatic cloudscapes.

I had big plans for my final day in New Mexico, all of which were thwarted when I walked out to the car in the morning and realized I'd be changing a tire and hanging out at the mechanic's instead. After weeks of careful sunscreen slathering, the sun finally snuck its way into my skin as I put on the spare -- "Something to remember me by when you go back to Hamburg", it smirked.

The next day, Mom and I flew together to Boston, my point of departure and her point of conference for the next week. There we were met at the airport by Joshua (with whom I recently celebrated our 1-year Portugaliversary), who was a total peach to drive down from Maine just for the evening. Together we made our way to Cambridge, where we met up with family and picnicked in a park. My niece shrieked in bottomless, year-and-a-half-old delight as she streaked through the fountain, then insisted that I take my shoes off so that she could toddle around in them. A perfect evening to conclude several wonderful, family-filled weeks in the Heimat.  

In which it snows and ballooning gets checked off on the bucket list (New Mexico part V).

To pick up where the last adventure left off, the hiking party split up with the two older members driving south and the two younger members continuing north. We first stopped off in Santa Fe, where we had a peek at the Old Town Plaza and went to the Georgia O'Keeffe Museum. Man, that woman was simply amazing. She's long gone but I've still got such an awesome crush on her, and have for years. Respect.

It was late by the time we were done with fooding and schmoozing, so we stayed the night in the capital before continuing north to Taos the next day, were we were going to visit a dear friend near the toes of the Rockies. (This friend also happens to be an incredible writer with a wonderful blog and three books under her belt.) There we were warmly welcomed into her sweet abode with a view and spoiled with incredible cuisine -- spicy hot cider, gourmet popcorn, amazing chili, purple cornbread with purple tater soup, divine breakfast quinoa with freshly made almond milk... .. . ahhhhh. And wonderful company around a warm kiva fireplace, of course. (Thank you!)

The sky twisted itself up in all sorts of dramatic ways that night, and was photographed in the process on a very cold and very windy stroll.

The sun rose the next morning behind snow-dusted mountains, spilling silently over the violet valley below. We decided that, in order to best and most comfortably explore those towering land masses, it was necessary to drive the 85-mile Enchanted Circle Scenic Byway. As it turned out, this was a most excellent idea. Golden aspens bursting out of a sparkling white wonderland, burbling streams, picnicking in alpine fields... This, too, is New Mexico? How enchanting!

Unfortunately the car needed to be back in Albuquerque by early evening, and as it couldn't drive itself, we had to cut the adventure short. One quick trip to the heart-thumpening river gorge and it was time for Auf Wiedersehen.

Fortunately we didn't have to wait long for the next adventure, which started early early the next morning. My parents had received a certificate for a private balloon flight (from themselves) for their wedding anniversary and were able to add a couple passengers on at the end. We'd already signed up to fly one morning the week before, but the pilot had decided at the last minute that the weather conditions were not up to par. We had more luck on the second try, hoorah hoorah. Part of the experience is helping to get the balloon set up, which is first rolled out of a van and inflated with industrial fans. Next the pilot uses the burner to pump hot flames (and thus hot air) into the balloon until it rises and the basket can be uprighted. Then we all hop in, and literally before you know it, you're 10, 20 feet off the ground. It's absolutely silent except for the wooshing of the burner from time to time, and as you go fly with the wind, there is no wind, er, blowing on you. This fact plus the burner right above you leads to a pleasantly cozy flying experience.

So, off we went. Rising with the sun over Albuquerque.

I'm always struck at how the city just comes to an abrupt stop and turns into desert, and there was no clearer place to see the difference than here.

Balloon Fiesta had ended a couple days prior, but there were still many other balloonists in the area taking advantage of the beautiful conditions.

Check out those cute little volcanoes on the right! Remember them?

One thing we learned was that dogs are generally extremely annoyed with balloons, one reason being because the burner (or something) lets off a very high pitch not audible to humans, and another being because they're giant unknown objects flying over the dog's home turf and they can't do anything about it. Dogs really did bark at us below throughout the whole flight.

After about an hour in the air, the pilot was hoping to land in a schoolyard. One class of kids at the school was clearly hoping for this as well as they had come outside to wave to us as we approached. But the wind decided otherwise and we ended up landing safely (with one single bump-hop) in the back parking lot of some industrial building, surrounded by semi trucks and barely skimming over an electric fence during the descent. I wasn't too worried as we went down, as the pilot was a very chill and experienced kind of guy. The balloon company van had been following us for the last hour and was soon there to pick us up. As before, we all worked together to deflate the balloon, fold it up, and get the massive thing back into the van in an organized fashion. Check.

I don't really know what else to say, other than it was a really wonderful experience. Almost as wonderful as going to the zoo and seeing baby giraffes. Different wonderful.

The final adventure of the trip (the next day) had to be a sunset jaunt up the tramway to Sandia Peak, because it's Albuquerque and what better way to say farewell to the city than here? Followed by delectable New Mexican cuisine -- red or green?

One more sleep, one more green chili cheese bagel with cream cheese and red pepper jelly, one more snuggle with the three-legged wonder spaniel, and it was time to go. Return to land of Real Life on Planet Germany, in a galaxy far, far away.

(I'm guessing this was somewhere around Chicago.)

I was sad to leave, but not as sad as usual, as I knew I'd be seeing my family again for Thanksgiving in just a few weeks, this time on Planet New England. (With the exception of my Gma, with whom we had had the pleasure of visiting many times while in ABQ. Saying goodbye to her was hard.)
Mostly I was just in awe at the range of things we had experienced and the richness of all the time we'd had there. Gratefulness abounds.