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Heritage On View
By DIANE ROBERTS New Mexico is a hundred shades of terra-cotta. From the deep garnet of the Jemez Mountains to the pale coral of Santa Fe's 300-year-old adobes, the place displays what seems to Floridians -- used to our summery tangle of wet green -- an exotic palette of earthy reds. Like Florida, New Mexico was an early object of Spain's imperial ambitions. And, like Florida, it was populated by people whose culture stretched back thousands of years. In Florida, however, despite the tourist-drawing "oldest city" of St. Augustine and some mellifluous place names, most of our Spanish colonial past is gone. Just a few ruined missions and forts are left. Our original American Indian heritage is now largely archaeological, what with the old tribes killed off by smallpox or blades forged in Toledo, Spain. Remnants of the original tribes were long ago assimilated into the Creeks and the Seminoles.
But in New Mexico, the people of the ancient pueblos, descendants of those who confronted the conquistador Coronado in the 16th century, are still there. And the Spanish are still there -- American citizens now, but heirs to the New World empire that once stretched from Tierra del Fuego in the south to San Francisco in the north. Santa Fe, Taos and other towns still revolve around their old plazas. Families still hold deeds to land granted them by the king of Spain nearly 400 years ago. The bells in the mission churches still ring. My mother, an aficionado of American Indian ceramics, and I were on a mission of our own: to visit Santa Fe's annual Spanish Market and see the pueblo where the renowned Maria Martinez made her black-on-black pottery. We started in Albuquerque, mostly to get our lungs used to being a mile up in the air. Albuquerque is flat, dusty and largely unlovely (with a few exceptions in the old neighborhoods near the University of New Mexico), but it does have a funky charm. Route 66 (on which one got one's kicks) runs through the city, as does the muddy Rio Grande. We passed quickly through the too-touristy Old Town. It is Albuquerque's colonial heart, but with the exception of the pretty 18th century church of San Felipe de Neri, it consists mainly of shops selling plastic chilis, overpriced Mexican tin and "Indian" crafts of dubious provenance. Less slick but far more authentic is the Indian Pueblo Cultural Center, a nonprofit organization run by New Mexico's 19 pueblos. Though the gift shop is bigger than the museum, you do get a moving overview of the American Indian experience through successive Spanish and American invasions. There are also exhibitions of the jewelry, weaving and pottery special to pueblos from Acoma to Zia. Immersion in art, historyLungs acclimated, and armed with numerous bottles of water (out there you dehydrate faster than a lizard in a toaster oven), we headed north through carnelian-colored mountains dotted with pinon pines and sage.
In Santa Fe, we were lucky enough to get rooms at the Madeleine, a Queen Anne house turned bed and breakfast, a five-minute walk from the Plaza. When we arrived, the Madeleine's manager gave us a stricken look. He was terribly sorry, he said, but because New Mexico was suffering a 50-year drought, the hot tub was not available. Santa Fe is a big hot tub culture. The water shortage is serious: If you order a glass of water along with your Patron Margarita, you'd better drink it, wait for the ice to melt and drink that, too. Otherwise, you'll get disapproving looks. And in hotel rooms, little signs exhort you to take short showers and NOT to leave the faucet running while you brush your teeth. Santa Fe, with about 130,000 residents, is a city of rosy adobes, peach trees, delphiniums and hollyhocks doused with reclaimed water, of course.
It is arty to within an inch of its life. The gallery-to-citizen ration is something like 1 to 4. Galleries circle the Plaza. There are galleries in the hotels and a whole street, Canyon Road, that is almost nothing but galleries, with the occasional pause for a coolly posh restaurant or two. Shoppers can acquire a life-size bronze horse, an antique Navajo rug in the voluptuous hues of the high desert or a 200-year-old retablo with St. Michael the Archangel stomping on the devil. We strolled around the Plaza (Santa Fe is a good pedestrian town) eyeballing fancy turquoise squash-blossom necklaces, elaborate polychrome pueblo pots and upmarket cowgirl clothes. The Plaza is geared for tourists, sure, but it's also a real place, with Santa Feans eating out and hanging out. The architecture around it illustrates the city's history. The long, low, 17th century Palace of the Governors, where every day American Indian artists sit selling their wares, houses a museum with pre-Columbian gold masks, Anasazi relics and European silver, all collected by the hidalgos (noblemen) who ruled this part of New Spain. Nearby are Victorian buildings right out of Gunsmoke and the Romanesque Cathedral of St. Francis, an incongruous piece of Paris in the wild West. And of course there are adobes, including the Institute of American Indian Arts Museum, which concentrates on contemporary work as cutting edge as anything you will see in TriBeCa, and the La Fonda Hotel, a sunset-colored, adobe wedding cake that was once in the inn at the end of the Santa Fe Trail. Ulysses S. Grant stayed there. Now you can drink cocktails in the Bell Tower Bar, which has fine views of the city and beyond to the purple-grey mountains. The Plaza is always busy (Santa Fe is a year-round tourist town), but during the two days of Spanish Market in July, it is overrun with connoisseurs snapping up textiles, ceramics, retablos and santos (pictures of saints) made by artisans from all over the Southwest and Latin America. I bought a San Rafael painted on leather (an old colonial technique) and a miniature icon of America's holiest figure encased in a Coke bottle cap (I refer, of course, to Elvis). Holied out and hot, we strolled through the nearby Georgia O'Keefe Museum. It is not large but has some of her good flower and cow skull paintings. Then we queued up for lunch at the Plaza Cafe, an ethnically eclectic diner where you can have a gyro, a bowl of mole cashew stew or French fries. If the Plaza is too crowded, try the El Molero fajita stand in front of the Museum of Fine Arts. The guy there produces a chicken fajita with fresh guacamole so sublime you will never look at a Taco Bell again. Despite retail exercise, we weren't that hungry. We'd had a lush dinner the night before at the Ore House (also on the Plaza) of red trout encrusted with pecans and rare steak, washed down with local Gruet champagne, which is made by French people from New Mexico grapes. Miracle earth and galleriesHaving worked the credit cards pretty hard at Spanish Market, we headed north to Taos to take in the superlative-sapping scenery. Known locally as the "low road," Highway 68 runs through Espanola, which is not so much a town as a vast strip mall, then improves past the orchards around Velarde. It is worth going that way just to stop for lunch at Embudo Station, a restaurant on the banks of the Rio Grande. You can take your chair and your beer (brewed right there) down to the river's edge, sit under the cottonwood trees and cool your feet in the shallow, celery-green water. The "high road" to Taos, Highway 76, is still more spectacular, taking you through Chimayo, with its miraculous earth (the soil from in front of the altar of El Sanctuario de Nuestro Senor de Esquipulas is said to have healing power) and Truchas, where Robert Redford filmed The Milagro Beanfield War. The mountains are almost impossibly vertical, some more than 12,000 feet, and shine like polished pewter in the hard, bright sun. After the reds, silver-greens and violet-blues of the Carson National Forest and the Sangre de Cristo range, Taos seemed frowzy, arid and overpriced. The Pueblo of Taos, just outside town, is by far the most interesting "sight," affording you a glimpse into a way of life that has barely changed in 1,000 years. There is no water and no electricity in the straw and mud houses stacked one on top of the other, with the magisterial Wheeler Peak, the highest mountain in New Mexico, as a backdrop. Instead of cruising the pricey environs of Taos' galleries (a generic symbol for "gallery" ought to appear on the Mew Mexico state seal), we drove to the Millicent Rogers Museum, a gracious old adobe house on a windy hill outside the town. Millicent Rogers was an heiress who moved to Taos in the 1940s, largely because she loved American Indian art as much as she loved couture clothes. Her exquisite pueblo pieces, turquoise bracelets heavy as brick, red and black San Ildefonso and Santa Clara urns, are displayed cheek by jowl with her Mainbocher suits and Madame Gres evening dresses. Once she was in New Mexico, Rogers wore custom-made "Indian" outfits and hung around with Taos' intellectual set, characters such as D.H. Lawrence's widow, Frieda. Pottery from the pueblos
Around 1919, Martinez and her husband, Julian, both San Ildefonso Pueblo Indians, had perfected black-on-black pottery, polished to a delicate gloss, then fired on a grate covered with cow pats and then smothered in manure -- a form of raku. By the 1950s and 1960s, Martinez was being recognized by world-class potters such as Bernard Leach of England and Hamada of Japan. Now Martinez' works are museum pieces. My mother began talking techniques and firing temperatures with Juan Tafoya, a potter who displayed some of his work outside the Palace of the Governors in Santa Fe. An outgoing guy in a turquoise nugget necklace who could be any age from 35 to 75, he invited us to visit his studio at San Ildefonso Pueblo. San Ildefonso is 24 miles north of Santa Fe on the Los Alamos Road. It is a small village, ranged around a monumental cottonwood tree, a kiva (a rounded adobe building used for sacred events and strictly off-limits to outsiders) and a church with a grassless graveyard in front, its wooden crosses festooned with fading paper flowers. The mysterious Black Mesa, a holy place for San Ildefonso people, dominates the landscape. The village is full of Maria Martinez's relations (nieces, granddaughters, great-granddaughters, in-laws) all making pottery, all selling it out of their living rooms. Each pueblo has its own pottery style: Acoma work is covered in startlingly modern geometric designs. Santa Clara is characterized by deep carving. And San Ildefonso is mostly a satiny red or black, carved with magical creatures or shapes. Though Juan Tafoya doesn't claim kin with Maria Martinez, his sensibility seems closest to hers in beauty of design and execution. He welcomed us into his house -- his potting table, sofa, display case, TV and bed are in the same room -- and showed us an intricately incised round vase he was working on. It was red but would, if the firing process went well, turn black. "It depends on the wind, the air, the flame," he said. "You never know." We bought a low, elegant pot, shiny as silk with the Avanyu, the spiky-tongued water serpent, curled around it. "His tongue is lightning, see?" Tafoya said. "He brings rain." The heavens were as clear as one of Tafoya's turquoise beads as we drove back to Santa Fe. But just as we parked the car, the sky filled with smoky clouds, and by the time we got inside, warm, thundery rain was falling. It still wasn't enough to fill the hot tubs, but clearly, Avanyu heard somebody's prayer. IF YOU GO
STAYING THERE: Albuquerque has an abundance of hotels and inns. The Bottger-Koch Mansion, (110 San Felipe NW, Albuquerque, N.M. 87104; toll-free 1-800-758-3639) is a grand Beaux Arts house turned bed and breakfast. Rates are $89 to $159 and include a lavish breakfast. But I love La Posada de Albuquerque (125 Second St., 87102; toll-free 1-800-777-5732). It was built in 1939 by Conrad Hilton (he took Zsa Zsa Gabor there) in a weird combination of hacienda and high-rise style, and is on the National Register of Historic Places. The lobby has terra-cotta tiles, a fountain, huge comfortable sofas and an elegant bar where they really know how to mix a margarita. Rates from $80. In Santa Fe, you pay for proximity to the Plaza: Rates at the La Fonda Hotel (100 E San Francisco St., 87501; toll-free 1-800-523-5002) start at more than $200. It's much better to go a couple of blocks out to the Hacienda Nicholas (320 Marcy St. 87501) or the Madeleine, inns owned by the same people. Rates at each start at $100. Hacienda Nicholas is done up in Southwestern style with a sunny patio. The Madeleine is a Queen Anne house of staggering quaintness: the rooms have stained-glass windows and flower names, as well as sumptuous food (blueberry pancakes for breakfast) and exemplary service. Call toll-free 1-888-321-5123; e-mail to alexandinn@aol.com. Taos also has a wealth of interesting places to stay, especially the Historic Taos Inn (125 Paseo del Pueblo Norte, 87571; (505) 758-2233). This is a funky place that brings together the Old West and the 1950s. Rates run from $70 to 225. A few minutes outside of town (and much more peaceful), the Casa Europa dates from the 18th century and has a garden, two friendly cats and huge, elegant rooms with fireplaces and marble-tiled bathrooms. You will not be surprised to learn that it doubles as a gallery, selling the work of local artists. Casa Europa is at 840 Upper Ranchitos Road, Taos, N.M., 87571; (505) 758-9798 . Rates start at $85. EATING THERE: The food in New Mexico is splendid, if not cheap, and not just the Southwestern cuisine but French, Italian, Thai, you name it. In Albuquerque, Double Rainbow (3416 Central Ave. (Route 66), 505-255-6633) is where local writers, university professors and graduate students go for chipotle chicken and huevos rancheros. It is moderately priced, around $20 for two. Conrad's, in La Posada de Albuquerque, is run by TV chef Jane Butel. Paellas, made the Spanish way, are a specialty. Around $50 for two. Santa Fe has some fine restaurants, including the Anasazi Restaurant (113 Washington Ave., 505-988-3236) which does excellent seafood and innovative variations on corn. Dinner about $70 for two. The Ore House on the Plaza (50 Lincoln Ave., 505-983-8687) is known for Nueva Latina cooking and first-rate beef. Dinner around $60 for two. Santa cafe (231 Washington Ave., 505-984-1788) is a favorite with Santa Feans for its global sensibility. Shiitake mushrooms, cactus and risotto might well show up on the same plate. Around $65. SIGHTSEEING: There are interesting museums all over New Mexico, especially in Albuquerque and Santa Fe, dealing with the Spanish colonial and American Indian experience. The New Mexico Department of Tourism has detailed information on them: toll-free 1-800-545-2040; the Web site is www.newmexico.org. Santa Fe's Museum of Fine Arts (just off the Plaza on W Palace Avenue) emphasizes traditional and contemporary regional art. Also in Santa Fe, the Museum of Indian Arts and Culture (710 Camino Lejo) has about 70,000 artifacts, from Anasazi pottery to ancient kuchinas and fetishes. For those interested in New Mexico's more explosive, more recent past, there's the Bradbury Science Museum in Los Alamos (15th Street) and the National Atomic Museum in Albuquerque (Wyoming Boulevard, on Kirkland Air Force Base), dedicated to the ins and outs of the original mushroom cloud. Still, the pueblos of New Mexico will tell you more about America's First People than any museum. Most are open to the public, though they close on certain days for religious observations. Picuris (505-587-2519), Santa Clara (505-753-7326) and San Ildefonso (505-455-3549) are among the most beautiful and evocative. There is a small charge per car, and some pueblos sell permits for photography. Many of the feast days are open to the public, as are the corn dances and deer dances. A word of warning: The pueblos are not theme parks. People live there and worship there. Visitors should observe all pueblo rules. And it's a good idea to call before you go; visiting hours are subject to change. -- Former Times editorial writer Diane Roberts teaches English at the University of Alabama.
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