The view from the plane.


The healing dirt of Chimayo. Palm-sized wooden chapels wiith sliding tops specifically to hold a scoopful of holy dirt are for sale in the gift shop. The chapel was privately owned until the 1920s when a group of residents bought the chapel and gave it to the archdiocese. Besides the dirt-chapels, the gift shop has the usual archdiocese fare: plastic rosaries meant to look like gems, cherub-faced figurines, clear plastic holy water squirt bottles, empty.


A wall of crutches as testament to the healing powers of the dirt. Gabe and Julie said that years ago there were written testimonies lining the walls. Now there are pictures of police officers killed in action, images of la virgen de guadalupe, and these two, a photo of a soldier holding a M-16 and a Pocahontas saint, complete with fringed leather and a large cross over her shoulder.

I've been in New Mexico since Saturday but it's only now that I have found time to write. The first two days I spent in Albuquerque with my step-nephew (he's only four years younger than me so we call each other "cousins") and his wife at their new house on New Mexico's last golf course on the outskirts of the largest suburb of this state's largest city. It's outrageous, really, that there are golf courses in New Mexico. But then there are so many outrages.

Saturday night we went to see the Trans-Siberian Orchestra at the rodeo hall of the state fairgrounds. The "orchestra" is a seasonal group; they pop up for Christmas, tour the country, then disappear again. Imagine a Pink Floyd cover band playing Christmas songs in 1983 with the newest laserlight technology. No, it wasn't pretty. In fact, it was so bad we left and went to see Syriana, which was good, then snuck into Aeno Flux, which was terrible. One good movie sandwiched between two truly mediocre entertainments.

My step-nephew's wife is a resident orthopedic surgeon at New Mexico's county hospital, it's only level 1 trauma center. She got off work early Sunday morning and after bagels and cream cheese and Starbuck's (there's always a Starbuck's...) we headed up one of the mountains of Sandia National Forest for a view of the city. Up top there are trails and a cafe and a gift shop sandwiched next to a stand of radio and cell phone towers, a clutter of barren, manmade trees surrounded by evergreens. The views were spectacular; the city, home to a half a million people, spreads out and then disappears, leaving only desert and scrub beyond it. We left the mountain and had ordinary Chinese at a restaurant stuffed into a suburban strip mall that could have been in southern California or the outskirts of Chicago, or the ring of New Jersey half-circling New York City. They are ubiquitous.

I had planned to stay in Albuquerque two nights, but I decided to head to Santa Fe early so I could go out to dinner with my friends Gabe and Julie and some of the other artists who Gabe has met at his residency at the Santa Fe Art Institute. Yesterday we had great fun: spectacular breakfast at Pasqual's on the plaza, then we drove up through the "high road" toward Taos, stopping at the sanctuary in Chimayo with its hole of holy dirt just off the chapel, then headed up to Taos Pueblo where for $10 each you can tour a staged pueblo village with adobe walls covered in adobe stucco, each structure with wood beams jutting out just below the roofs. We decided not to go in; S had warned me that it was a Disney pueblo and not worth $10. Walking around were three saffron-robed monks wearing matching saffron knit caps and plastic sandals. One had athletic socks on with his sandals, and on the side of the socks was "USA." In Taos we ate green chile soup with flour tortillas and drank coffee while we window-shopped. On our way back to Santa Fe we stopped at an "earthship" community, a collection of houses built into the earth with walls made of dirt crammed into used tires and covered in plaster. The houses are completely off the grid and use a water recycling system. Inside are jungle plants and geraniums (it's possible to grow your own food all year long, they promise) along tilted vertical windows that also heat the houses. The way in which they were "earthships" were that they seemed to have traveled in time from 1972, their rounded walls decorated with broken glass mosaics and "gaia" pronouncements. The technology was interesting, but we all thought the houses were ugly ("fugly" in fact!) and that it was possible to build beautiful homes with recycled and renewable resources that are off the grid. Ugly isn't a requirement. Is it?

We had dinner with a couple Gabe and Julie know who have a three month old baby. Jeremy is a sculptor who works in steel. He creates objects with steel sheets, heats them to 2000 degrees, then takes them out and blows air into them so they puff up like pillows. Then he has them powder-coated. Gabe told me he has shown his work in London and New York. He bakes them and blows them in his driveway, then carts them to be painted and shown. They usually weigh a couple of hundred pounds. The day before Jeremy had baked brownies and three different cookies, which we ate and ate before heading to Gabriel's for border Mexican, soft flour tortillas and mild salsa.

It's been Chicago cold here and today Santa Fe is covered in its first snow. Today I'm at the Aztec Street Cafe, a small independent coffee house on the other side of the river from the plaza that offers free internet. Just off the main room is a "smoking room." Whenever the door opens a waft floats towards me. There must be twice as many people in there as out here, and also two dogs. The dogs seem anxious to get out. I don't blame them!

I've talked to S twice since I've been here. He wrote an essay for Operation Truth's Vet of the Week feature. I'll let everyone know when it is up. He's back with the special forces and a little bored. He left his books at his remote base further south and they've only been running short daylong missions. We're down to 65 days, I think. Soon, soon soon.