Concerning Poetry

Recently, I've been struggling with a realization. I don't want to admit it to myself, because I suppose I believe that if it's true it will make me less awesome, less legitimate, less sophisticated. But there are some things that just ARE, and there's isn't a whole lot I can do to make them not be. I'm hardwired a certain way, am that's just the way I am, dammit. And I don't like poetry.

I don't like poetry. There. I said it. I don't understand how I CAN'T like it though. I like reading, writing, art, drama, philosophy... other stuff....? I just don't desire to "read into" something to "extract" a "hidden" meaning. I want things to be great the first time I read them, because if I don't think it's great the first time, or I don't UNDERSTAND it the first time, I probably won't want to read it again to get "more" out of it. Does that make me less of an intellectual? Will I now be black listed from coffee shops and open mic nights in every town I go to?! Hopefully one day I'll be proven wrong. I'll come up against a piece of poetry that I enjoy and will desire to work to understand it and appreciate it. And maybe that piece will inspire me to read more poetry, and so on and so on ad infinitum. Until then, I guess I'll just hang out with the plebs.

The peculiar happenings of Monday, November 9

I didn't expect today to be any more or less spectacular than any other day, nor did I expect it to be any more or less banal. And to begin with, it wasn't. The main events of today don't stand out as being unusual in any way either - got some coffee, went to class, did homework, had tooth pain, took a nap, went to a meeting... I was fighting Monday, or Anyday as days tend to become. Trying to stay in the swing of things, check things off the list, prioritize, economize, supersize, but the world kept sticking out little peculiar happenings that forced me to take a moment out of the routine and pay attention to them.

The first was early this morning in class. I didn't think anything of it at the time, because I usually don't think much of anything in the mornings before a heaping serving of caffeine. But, as I stared down into my cup of coffee and listened to a presentation on business ethics, I noticed little swirls in the cup.

The next one didn't hit me until much later in the day. I was fighting off terrible tooth pain (REMINDER: CALL THE DENTIST!) and trying to beat the 5:30 deadline of the assignment I had to turn in, and I heard my watch ticking. The watch, which was on the other side of the table, was SO LOUD for just a few seconds that it completely snapped me out of my rush and MADE ME pay attention to it. It's like it was just screaming, "HEY!!! TAKE A SECOND TO REALIZE THAT THERE IS MORE GOING ON AROUND YOU!!"

Later, I was on my back porch and I noticed a leaf sitting on the window ledge. Thing is, the whole porch is enclosed by screen so there is really no was for leaves to get in. Except for one spot, where there is a tear in the screen, and this little leaf is sitting directly under the little tear. "Check me out! I defied all odds!", it said. Because really, a leaf shouldn't be there. It would need to have blown in at exactly the right angle, and with exactly enough speed to make it through the hole in the first place, and then to be precariously perched on the ledge like it was? I wouldn't have placed any bets on that happening. Special little leaf.

And just now, I was blowing soap bubbles for my cat (she loves to chase them) and one landed on the couch. It caught the light just so, and even though the bubble itself was still the surface of it was swirling and changing in a myriad of colors. And then it popped. I know there is a metaphor in there some where, I just haven't figured it out yet.

SOOKIE!

Just a short post here about Halloween, which activity-wise ended up being pretty lame (as it always is in Albuquerque). But, I was really proud of my costume, and enjoyed all the ghoulish goodness leading up to Halloween. I think I'm still going to be renting scary movies and making monster themed baked goods for a while to come, and I'm excited about that!


This was my costume. I was Sookie Stackhouse, from the HBO shoe TrueBlood! A guy that I work with has said a few times that he thinks I look like Anna Paquin. When I shared this information with the rest of the people I work with, they seemed to agree and from there my costume was born. And, as it turned out I had almost everything I needed to make it happen at my house anyways! I had received a Merlotte's shirt and bar rag made for me from a swap I was in, and I had the shorts and the apron and shoes already. The only thing I bought was a hair clip thing to make it look like I had longer hair. That thing was waaayyyy too much fun! I could never live with that much hair, but for a few nights a year I think it could be tons of fun.

For comparison's sake, here is a picture of the real Sookie Stackhouse, played by Anna Paquin:


I hope that when the new season of TrueBlood starts, I can find a place to host "screening parties" and then I can wear my costume again!

Cada-Kiss!

Actually, this place is called Cadaques, and is the eastern most town in Spain. To get there, you have to drive up the coast and over a way-too-treacherous mountain pass, and then back down it. I think that this town was my favorite in all of Spain, and so worth any travel pains it took to get there. It was also my first experience of a classically styled Mediterranean village and I pretty much fell in love. It also deepened my desire to go to Greece. We happened to be there on a holiday weekend and the place was PPAACCCKKKKEDD! And we were only there for about an hour. But still... it was awesome. I'm pretty much just going to let the pictures speak for themselves from here on out...

Packed.

Guaging the Crunchiness of Leaves

Things are crazy right now. I'm feeling WAY overwhelmed, possibly even more than I ever have before. I was walking to school yesterday (which was a SUNDAY, mind you) to try and get some work done, only to realize that the computer lab didn't open for another half an hour. So, I trudged my way to the duck pond to sit and wait, and I realized that, without even thinking about it, I had been tracing a zig-zag path that ran me through what I was judging to be the path of the most crunchy leaves. I think it can be agreed on that there is some kind of joy that every person experiences when stepping on leaves in the fall. I have a few theories for why this might be - it's either our desire to be in a childlike state of bliss again, we all have the desire to destroy something beautiful, or it's a fun stress reliever. Like popping bubble wrap. I'm pretty sure it's the latter, although the unbridled desire to destroy seems a bit more interesting....

So, I continued to walk and pay attention to the leaves which I was set to annihilate. What makes this one appear more crunchy? Do I like the leaves because they appear crunchy, or do I dislike them and want to crush them because of it? What course of action should I take when there are two leaves of equal perceived crunchiness in opposite directions? Is a satisfyingly crunchy leaf worth the risk of backtracking?

I have not yet reached a conclusion.

Dali-Mania!

Welcome to the Teatro de Dali, or Surrealism Central. This museum is located in Figueres, about 2 hours or so north of Barcelona, very near the French border. This place was totally weird, and pretty awesome. Although I don't *love* it, it's definitely recommended. But really, this place "couldn't be goofier" (Mom quote).

Spain Food Round Up

I was really excited for the food in Spain (obviously), but unfortunately we missed out on a lot of good restaurants for various reasons (mostly because Steve doesn't seem to care much about food, and often we had to eat where ever he managed to drag us). But, I did experience plenty of good food, even if it's not as much as I expected. One thing that I found really bizarre that I couldn't manage to get my mind around was the Prix Fix menus. I usually expect those menus to be over priced and lower quality than A La Carte ordering, but this was not the case at all. For example, at one place we went, I ordered a bowl of soup, and my Mom and Steve got the Prix Fix, which included wine, water, and coffee, soup or salad, an entree, and a dessert. My soup was more than their meal, and the soup was the same soup that I ordered! It was baffling!

The best place we ate in Barcelona, hands down, was Can Majo. It is right on the boulevard on the beach, and has the freshest, simply prepared seafood I have ever tasted. We started with muscles, and I don't think there was any sauce on them at all... just plain ol' muscles - and they were SUPERB! So fresh!
Clams, Muscles, and Conch at Can Majo.

In Bilbao, we ate at a place called El Perro Chico, which is the most famous restaurant in the city. I really wanted to experience some Basque style food, and this was pretty authentic, I think. It was hard to eat because it was so hot outside, and Basque food is made for surviving cold, mountain winters, but it was still really good. We also had a FANTASTIC bottle of wine on the chef's recommendation. We were one of 3 tables in the dining room that night, and the chef came out and took our order and personally took care of us. It was really awesome.

I had high hopes of going to some of the most famous restaurants in Spain, even though they were cost prohibitive. Luckily for the wallet, most of those places were closed for the month of August (for summer vacation I guess? I sort of wish my restaurant gave us a month of summer vacay!).

Back in Barcelona, my mom and I went to La Bouqueria, which is said to be one of the best food markets in all of Europe. I'm SOOO glad we went! One of my favorite parts was watching a fish monger break down a whole fish in about 45 seconds! It was awesome.


The ham all the way to the left is $92/pound!



This is only about 1/8th of how much seafood there was!




Crawfish!


Candy!


Beef Heart & Tongue! Ick!


Tripe Tripe Tripe.


I got a lot of inspiration from the food there, and have had a good time trying to play with the flavors here at home. So much in fact that I ended up with four pounds of the Padron peppers and have been eating them almost every day for a few weeks. Yum.

Spain pictures (Muy Tarde!)

My previous Spain travel blogging was dry and wordy, and ultimately pretty lame. SO - I have decided to be a good writer and SHOW you what I saw, not TELL you. I also have a one up on most writers who follow this rule, because I have some pretty rockin' pictures to share (it's not cheating, really...). Mmmkay!

What better way to start off a story about Barcelona than with a little bit of Antoni Gaudi, Barcelona's patron modern architect. He had a thing for arches, grandeur, and (I think) the absurd. Some of elements of his work are sleek and beautiful (see above) while some are just... weird. Or so I think.


This is the front of Casa Batillo, which is an apartment building! I'm not sure if anyone actually lives there right now, but it's a pretty magnificent place. Every SINGLE detail was thought of when it was constructed, from the walls and ceilings to the ergonomical shape of the window handles. If I had to describe this building in one word, I think it would be "whimsical". Or possibly "wobbly".

wobble wobble

We hit three of the four really famous Gaudi buildings in one day. Our second stop was at la Pedrera (or the Stone Quarry). This place was a commercial building of some sort. The first picture posted here is from the attic of the building, which was pretty cool, if not a little claustrophobic. There were attendants herding everyone this way and that, and so we didn't get to spend much time looking at all the things they have in the museum that was there. We got ushered on to the roof.

My mom takes terrible pictures of me...

The roof was one of the more interesting roofs I have seen in my time, with big spiral, smoke shaped spires of broken tile ascending into the gray sky. Whoa. Sorry about that flowery language dump, I must be getting carried away. Anyway! We didn't stay here long, partially on account of our not-so-friendly human-shepherds, and partially because we needed to move on to bigger and better things.


La Sagrada Familia. Aaahhh yes, an ENORMOUS cathedral to which Gaudi devoted the last 14 years of his life (before it was cut short on account of him getting hit by a trolley and being left unattended to die in a homeless shelter because nobody recognized him. Dark). The Sagrada, still unfinished and in a perpetual state of construction, is one of the most amazing buildings I have ever seen. To paraphrase my guide book, from a distance it looks like a clumsy giant poured wax all over what would normally be a pretty standard gothic cathedral, but upon further investigation you can see that every. single. little. lump is a shape - a flower, or a bunny, or a person - someone who was influential to Christ during his early years. There are all the characters from various Bible stories, including this super-angry baby-killin' Roman guy:
Yikes.

That is the front facade. The back represents the crucifixion, and is my favorite of the two sides. It has a much more modern look, and has a creepy minimalist style that I totally dig.


Each little cluster of people represents one of the 13 (?) stages of the passion. Note the bad-ass looking Romans in the middle. I wouldn't want to cross those guys... Also, the man in the bottom right is the most hopeless, sad statue I have ever seen. I think that's one of the reason I tend to like depictions of the crucifixion more than of other familiar religious scenes - it forces the artist (and the viewer) to understand and depict man in absolute misery and despair and you end up looking at how dire the human condition can be...


Alright, enough depressing stuff. Below is the inside of the cathedral, and it's just about all that's been completed, but it's absolutely stunning! The rest is just a sea of criss-crossing scaffolding that is so thick it almost blocks out the light of the sun!


Just to give you some scope of how really REALLY big this place is, here is a picture I grabbed from Google images:
Yeah. It's big. And only two of the three facades are done. I think they hope to have the whole project complete by the 100th anniversary of Gaudi's death in 2028, but they are going to have a tough time, because all the construction is funded by donations and revenue generated from admissions.


Sadly, all of my Parque Guell (the fourth and final Gaudi stop) photos suck.. so.. yeah. This concludes the Gaudi post! Again, apologies for the delay in posting pictures! I still have many, many more to show you!

Day 4 - Beach and Bulls

A very late update on day 4 in Spain. On Sunday, we had a nice relaxing morning and then Steve and I went to the beach.


There was a restaurant that I wanted to go to on one end of the beach, and Steve wanted to go to the nude/gay section of the beach which was on the other side. I didn't want to tell him that it was 2 miles from one end to the other, so we went to the nude/gay beach with the intention of taking a nice stroll before lunch. I've never beed to a nude beach, but I didn't expect to be bothered by it, and I really wasn't! It was totally relaxed - just people being naked (or not) and hanging out in the sand. We settled down in the more nude/less gay area of the beach, which would be my preference only because the nude beach is quite and calm, while the gay beach tends to be a little bit louder and more in-your-face (especially with Steve around, who is like a walking... I don't even know... fag bilboard I guess. But not in the cute lovable fag way, in the loud, annoying, bad clothes, bury your head in your hands kind of fag way...). So, we spent a little bit of time there, and then walked to the food place, which was a very long walk in the very hot sun. I was doing fine, and silently laughing inside that I was inflicting such discomfort on Steve without any harm to myself! After all the shit he had put us through at that point, it was very rewarding to have some retribution. I'm evil, I know.
The Frank Ghery fish we saw on our walk to the restaurant.

So, we finally make it all the way to the restaraunt, and they won't let us in because we didn't have resverations! It was SOOO SAD! We ate at the place next door, which was fine, and then took the subway back to the apartment to pick up my mom and get ready for the bull fight.

The bull fight.
The opening ceremonies.

I don't even know where to start with this. I guess I didn't really have a clear understanding as to what a bull fight entails - I knew it had matadors, and capes, and... bulls. That's pretty much all I knew. About a week before we got here, my mom said that the POINT of the fight is to KILL the bull. I didn't like the sound of that then, but I decided that I should go on ahead and see what it was all about, if only to gain a little bit of cultural knowledge about Spain. We get to the bullring, and there are a handful of protestors outside calling for the end of bullfights and urging people not to go in and support the fight. This is the line I would normally see myself being on, and I started to get really weirded out at this point. We get our tickets and find some seats and wait for a bit before the "show", "specticle", "blood fest" begins. And it goes like this: after some pomp and circumstance with the matadors and horses and guys dressed up like conquistadors, they let out the first (of 3!) bulls. The matadores (little matadors) start by taunting and teasing the bull a little bit with their brightly colored capes. This is to start getting the bull angry so it will actually fight against the main matador. The teasing with the capes I could deal with - it's cruel, yes, but I could handle it. In the next part, a single matadore runs around the bull with these bright colored tubes, sort of the size of a packing tube but smaller, that have hooks on the end. In this "game", the matadore has to dig the hooks into the flesh of the bull so they stick in and flap around, and mostly so it makes the bull angry. This is when the bull begins to bleed, and even from the highest section in the ring I could see the blood pouring over the bull's back. Then, men on horseback come in a jab at the bull with pointy javelins, puncturing and wounding the bull even more. I left in tears at this point and sat on the sidewalk outside the ring crying for about a half an hour. I couldn't bear not only to see this bull, this poor confused creature, be tortured and humiliated in front of a crowd of people who believed it entertaining, but to see the famed "matador" take down the bull, which is already broken and bleeding, covered in blood and feces, scared and angry. I hardly see it as an act of heroism to take down a beast for sport, but even less so one that has already been wounded to give man the upper hand. This is done with 3 bulls, and once they are killed they are dragged through the dirt in a show of merciless pride around the ring, and then out to God Knows Where to be disposed of. It is not my intention to condem a cultural practice based on my own views. Bullfighting has been going on for many many MANY years in Spain, and some people claim there to be an "art" to it (although I don't know what could be artful about animal slaughter). But the King and Queen themselves could not have kept me there to continue watching that barbaric tradition. I was glad to hear that the provence of Catalunya overall tends to be against bullfights, and they are moving to make the whole provence Bull Fight Free.

"An Anti-bullfighting demonstrator sits amid others laying covered in fake blood while holding a sign that reads 'Bullfight abolition' at the Plaza de Toros de Las Ventas on May 24, 2009 in Madrid, Spain. An estimated of 300 demonstrators protested for the abolition of bullfighting.

(May 24, 2009 - Photo by Jasper Juinen/Getty Images Europe)"

I finally made it home and waited for my mom and Steve to come back, and then we went and had some more really shitty food on Steve's reccomendation. I was glad to end that day, for sure.

A 3 Part Train Ride to Montserrat

Day 2 Barcelona. Today was the day for Montserrat, the site of an old Benidictine monestary set high on a mountain which after many trials and tribulations was finally destroyed by Napolean in 1812. The church was rebuilt in the 1900's, complete with a series of death-defying trains and funicular.... things. I'm not really sure WHAT a funicular is, I think it is generally a basket or box that hangs from a cable that is then "reeled in" to it's final destination.
Funicular-tastic!
Anyways, to get there you have to take a normal train from Barcelona to Montserrat, then take a cog train (a train that has a mechanical cog attached to a track (sort of like the wheels in a clock) that prevents it from falling backwards down the mountain) to the site of the monestary and very peculiar museum.
Inside the new Monastery

The main attraction at the monestary is the "Black Virgin", a very old statue of the Virgin and bebe Jesus, the skin of which has turned black over centuries of smoke from the candles and incense used in ceremonies. The statue was found in a cave near the mountain, which is apparently a fairly common occurance in Spain. In fact, so many Virgins have been found in the country that there is a national holiday devoted solely to "Found Virgins". I think people should keep better track of their virgins so they don't go off getting lost all the time. The Black Virgin is in the back of the altar, and there was a crazy long line to go see her, so we skipped it and went to the museum.


Ah the museum, the most random collection of things to exist in one place at one time in a place that call itself a museum. There were many paintings by some less famous Spanish artists and many of the subjects of the paintings were of Barcelona or Montserrat itself. There were also a spattering of lesser pieces by Miro and Dali, as well a whole collection of posters by Picasso. And then, who could forget, the Egyptian section, complete with mummy, it's casket thing, and embalming jars. What, exactly, all these egyptian things were doing atop a mountain in a Benedictine monestary in Spain is beyond me. We pondered this relationship for a while, and then took our final train up the mountain to the very very top. This train, or cable car I guess, literally LITERALLY went STRAIGHT. UP. the mountain. The car was stepped against the angle of the tracks so you couldn't feel just how steep it was, but... it was steep. Way steep.
That track is at like, 150 degrees up the mountain.

The views were fantastic, even though it was a little cloudy and misty. On a clear day you can see all the way to the Mediterranean Sea on one side and all the way to the Pyrenees Mountains on the other. We couldn't see quite that far, but my mom thinks we should tell everyone we could anyways. I don't know why she feels that way. But, now you know when she tells you that she saw the Mediterranean Sea from the top of Montserrat, it's not really true.

On the ride back, Steve, who had been causing problems for us all day with his "I know everything" attitude (which already resulted with us getting off at the wrong train stop and having to wait forever for another train, and would later result in me having to wait over an hour for my dinner), had "found out" what time the train was leaving, and chose to go to the bathroom. Well, the train came early, so we got on it. And then it left. While Foxy was standing with his dick in his hands in the bathroom. Well, he was in for a great surprise when he came back outside an no one, not even the ticket attendant was there. We finally called him after we figured out what the Spanish country code is, and my mom found his number, and he was still standing dumfounded at the previous station. Luckily another train was coming in 20 minutes, so he didn't have to wait long, and then many laughs were had. But, let this be a lesson to you all! When you try to control your travel companions, you will be undermined and left standing in an empty train station an hour from Barcelona!

Vamos a Barcelona!

After our nice visit in New York, my mom and I hopped on a plane at JFK and took our flight to Paris. It was TERRIBLE! I didn't sleep even a little bit! I don't know what it was, but man, I didn't sleep at ALL, which made the next day totally hellacious. When we got to Paris, we were on a flight with at least 4 screaming children, and being as I was already exhausted, the flight was much more diffucult. Anyways, we got to Barcelona (although neither Spain nor France stamped my passport, oddly enough), and took a cab to the city. We are staying with a friend of my mom's here who has rented a flat for a month while he takes Spanish classes. His name is Steve, or Foxy. More about him later.

We rested for about an hour and then took a walk down "La Rambla". A rambla is a median or section in the road that separates the cars going in opposite directions, and La Rambla is the grandest of them all, apparently. It's a pedestrain walkway with all sorts of touristy things: Painters, crafts, souvenieers, and street performers. Only, on La Rambla, most of the performers aren't really performers, but just people dressed in elaborate costumes who don't do much at all. There are some who do the living statue kind of thing, but none of them are very convincing, especially since there are so many of them. If I had to do a living statue schtick I would set up camp somewhere where people wouldn't expect me to be, because then I would have a better chance at being convincing. Luckily, I don't have to do that because it seems really uncomfortable and pretty humiliating. There are also all these stalls on La Rambla that sell pets of all different kinds: Paraqueets, chickens, ducks, roosters, guinnea fowl, guinnea pigs, gerbils, hamsters, fish, CHIPMUNKS, turtles - all sorts of things. I'm not quite sure who is going on vacation to buy live animals, but there are an aweful lot of them, so someone must be buying them. And I hope that's true because they are in rather deplorable conditions, and it made me really sad to see all those poor animals in tiny little cages out in the hot sun. It's just not right. My opinion of La Rambla might be a little bit sullied by the fact that I was in a pretty crummy mood by the time we got there, having traveled for 12 hours and not slept for 24, and I had no desire to be smashed together with a bunch of people anymore for the day. On a different day, I might like it more. I'd like to go back and get some photos of the costume people (as depressing as it is) so I can show you all, so I imagine we will be going back there at some point.

After La Rambla we went to dinner with Foxy. He took us to a place called Castro (named after the gay district in San Francisco), and as you would expect it was a gay restaraunt. The food was alright - it had a really floofy, creative looking menu, but the execution was sorely lacking. I sort of expected this was going to be the case and just ordered a salad. The cava sangria was delicious, and although I think it's a bit silly to order sangria at a bar anyways (it's similar to ordering Jungle Juice), this was really tasty. Also, my mom thought that cava was a cactus, which was amusing. We had an alright time, despite being really underdressed (WHICH I HATE!), and the fact that my mom and I were the only two women in the place (and possible on the whole block). Honestly, I don't think I could have been TOO thrilled about anything at that point, and I was glad to get back to the apartment and finally go to sleep.

I have decided that since upload pictures is not really happening that I am going to come back to all these posts once I get home and add pictures so you all can see them. So, check back later! Also, I apologize for the temporary bad spelling - I'm not using firefox which is usually my saving grace. I will update soon with more! The upcoming days are much more exciting, I promise ;) .

24 hours in NYC

Hello everyone! It's Saturday today, but I'm going to tell you a bit about this previous Wednesday and Thursday! My mother and I, en route to Barcelona, made a 24 hour stop in NYC to visit my great Aunt Hilda and my darling friend Alie! We flew in Wednesday night and checked into a really nice hotel on 79th and Broadway. After about an hour of resting we made our way down to Lincoln Center for their first night of their Out of Doors concert series, stopping at your typical upper west side gourmet grocery store to put together a picnic dinner. Man I love those places! Anyways we settled down on a bench and ate our dinner to the opening act - some Arabic jazz fusion band - while we waited for the main act to begin, Dave Brubeck Quartet!

Dave Brubeck Quartet at the Lincoln Out of Doors 50th Anniversary

When they started to play, every person there was TOTALLY captivated! All 4 of them are really old, but they rocked sooo hard. Towards the end of their set they brought out a man from Pakistan for some more Arab jazz fusion, but for the last song he wielded a violin. The first part of the last song was a duel type thing between the resident saxophone player and this new violinist and it was amazing - both these instruments were just whining and screaming into the open air, and every person in the crowd was just silent. The violin solo was even more spectacular as the player took a simple jazz riff and twisted and turned it into an unbelieveable journey and then in true jazz style brought the whole thing back in just a few notes to close out the night, and the concert, in the most classic jazz you've ever heard. I guess what I'm trying to say is it was pretty damn awesome. As we were leaving we happened upon Dave Brubeck himself leaving the building and joined in with a handfull of others to offer him another round of applause. A very great night.

The next day, after the continental breakfast circus mess the hotel offered (6 small tables between 200 guests), we stopped for coffee and went to see Hilda for a very nice lunch. She's 93 years old and sharp as a tack, it's really so much fun to spend time with her. We then met Alie, whose birthday was the day before, literally on the street and went to get our nails done (in true New York fashion).


Black is the new black.

We stopped at a little bar place for a glass of wine (or a mojito, in my mom's case), wished Alie a happy birthday, and headed out to JFK for the next leg of our journey.

Aww! Happy Birthday, Alie!

Mom, a mojito, and some Willy Wonka glasses.

I was hoping I would be able to upload pictures to share every other day or so, but the guy we are staying with is really uptight about his computer, so it's just less stressfull to post from my phone. Hopefully I will find a place to upload at least a few photos before my adventure is over. Alright, gotta go, tapas and sangria await!

At 10,378 Feet

Today was a glorious day. Simon and I went on the Albuquerque tram for our anniversary. The tram, although a neat technological feat, was packed full of annoying tourists, boy scouts, and babies. Honestly, I did not expect as many people to be on the mountain as there were. Really surprising. At the top, we hunkered down on a nice rock and ate the picnic lunch of cheese, french bread, and fruit we had packed. Mmmm cheese! We decided to keep trekking further down the trail and deeper into the forest. We were both wearing flip flops, so the going was slow, but even just a few minutes down the trail away from the noise of the tram, things were peaceful. And quiet - Oh how quiet! No whirring swamp coolers or skate boards or traffic. Things were just silent. And every so often a breeze, but not so much a breeze as a breath or a sigh, would silently pass through and persuade the leaves and little flowers to shimmer and dance. We watched the wind, even though we couldn't always feel it. The air was cool and light, not hot and stiffling like it is in the city. It made me miss Taos a little, to be honest. Taos mountain is just so much prettier than the Sandias (No offense, Senor Watermelon), and it doesn't take a 40 minute drive and a jam packed tram to get away from the din of civilization. But, don't tell anyone I confided such thoughts, I need to up hold my Big City Girl image. I'm beginning to falter here, I have spent the rest of the evening gearing up for my trip tomorrow, so without further ado, I will leave you with some pictures and bid you adieu!


This is the tram! Crammed full of people. Tram Cram.

From Wiki: "With a total diagonal distance of 14,657 feet (4,467 m) the Sandia Peak Tram is the longest aerial tram in the world".

Albuquerque from above. The visibility was a little poor today, but I didn't really mind.

Rock face on the West side of the mountain. That side is super rocky and dry, while the East side is green and moist and cool. Very strange and cool.

My Simon enjoying the cool mountain air.

A very cool little spiral whirlygig plant that we found. Spirals rock! Fibonacci FTW!

Me!

Part of the pulley system that runs the tram.

Well, I'm off to bed for tonight so I can head for New York, and then Spain in the morning. Just one more thing: I LOVE YOU SIMON! <3