Adobe Houses Galore

Just outside of Taos is Taos Pueblo. It is a community of about 150 of the 1200 Taos Indian Reservation residents. They live in stacked, adobe apartment-like homes, some of which have existed since the 1200’s. The stacked homes are accessible only by ladder, and none of the homes have running water or electricity. Some of the adobe structures are shops in which the resident’s Native American wares, jewelry, art, and food is for sale.

Bow Tie o’ the Day I was wearing when we visited Taos Pueblo and Bow Tie On A Shelf o’ the Day were impressed with the entire Taos Pueblo set-up. Suzanne was impressed with the jewelry she found there. And yes, she found two more necklaces for me to buy her.

The Taos-area landscape was not in-your-face pretty. It wasn’t much to look at initially. I say this with love, but it looked a lot like Fillmore and Delta. It had the same dreamy sky, because it had the same flat desert landscape. Taos is close to the Sangre de Cristo Mountains, although not as close to the mountains as we thought it would be. The skiing at Taos Ski Valley is said to be as “reverential” an experience as Utah’s bigly skiing provides.

In fact, Taos reminded Suzanne and I both of Park City, but all sprawled out and in its 1970’s unkept, un-yuppified condition. We had a swell time, but the town itself seemed kinda grungey and— in my way of saying it— fall-y apart-y. We ate out only twice, cuz most restaurants we saw gave me a grime vibe. The places where we did actually eat served up darn tasty food, but I’m glad we had a decent kitchen in the condo. I’m sure there are good places to eat in Taos, but we didn’t run across more than a couple of them in the short time we were there.

Taos Pueblo is worth visiting if you’re into that sort of thing. And I would go back just to take another gander at the Rio Grande Gorge. Mostly, if you are art-minded, Taos is a place for you to spend time. I think I’d like to return to see it in winter. Snow turns every place into a different place, if you know what I mean.

Bigly Bridge Near Taos

One of the fabulous sights we saw on our Taos vacation was a sight we didn’t know existed until we got there: The Rio Grande Gorge Bridge. It sits 650 feet above the Rio Grande, connecting a highway. Sidewalks are provided for walking across the bridge.

The first thing Candy Corn Bow Tie On A Shelf o’ the Day and my Halloween-colors Tie o’ the Day had to do when we stopped on the bridge to take photos was, of course, to strike the pose of all folks having their pic taken above water: pretend to dive into the whatever-body-of-water it is. Suzanne’s thumb also managed to do the dive pose for the photo, right along with Bow Tie.

We were all enjoying the spectacular views, and suddenly Bow Tie found this suicide crisis call box. We were reminded that for some people a phenomenal bridge and a river can look like a way out of indescribable pain. I was sad the box was necessary, but glad it was there for someone in such desperate pain.

I stood on The Chesapeake Bay Bridge in Maryland on the night of January 7, 2000. I was done. As I waited for whatever I was waiting for before I jumped, the bridge and the bay and the sky came together in such a way that I felt almost lightning-struck by the scene’s elegance. Its beauty called me back to solid ground. I didn’t want to miss this. I can’t explain it beyond that.