Those Ruins Aren't Aztec

I always think of the east coast of the United States as being the side of the country that hosts the most history, but driving through the American Southwest immersed us in times past. Much of it is more modern- the whole wild west expansion stuff, but there were people here long before the cowboys- and in the South West, you can still see tons of evidence of the lives of the ancestral Pueblo peoples. In different climates, like much of California, the homes of Native Americans were often mobile, and the remains have long since deteriorated over the course of wet seasons. You can see replicas, but the real things are gone. But in the desert, there are entire villages of ruins- amazing dwellings built with the material at hand- rock and adobe- which have been remarkably preserved for many hundreds of years. And it's not just a home or two here and there- there are huge, complex villages. The effort and engineering it took to build these is pretty amazing.

We were lucky to visit so many of these awesome and ancient dwellings this spring. It was like an extended, multi-week field trip / living unit study learning about the original inhabitants of the land and the wisdom of their ways. Working with your environment was a big lesson- like using stone and building into the earth both in caves and underground- this could insulate and regulate extreme desert temperatures, and seemed a better idea than trying to build a wooden structure in the blazing sun when there was not a forest for miles.

The lessons of what happened to much Indian culture and so many people is beyond sad, so it was great to see thriving and healthy Indian populations in many areas today. These aren't just the people who were once there- they are still there- alive and well. We did see some rural areas of poverty of course, and that typically isn't a pretty scene. But what really struck me were the large school groups in New Mexico museums- full of healthy and beautiful Native American kids and being led by mostly Native American teachers who (unlike many school teachers) were respectful with the kids, and actually seemed to be enjoying their time sharing the world with them. I love kids, but am not usually very excited to have our museum time interrupted by school groups. These were happy scenes though, and those are what stuck with me- resilient and strong people who valued their young ones.

Another thing that both struck me and stuck with me was Aztec Ruins National Monument. When I came across the place on the map, I was a little confused and began to question my own knowledge base because I hadn't thought the Aztec people were anywhere close to that area. Gee- what kind of education did I have? Well, I was right with my instinct- they aren't even Aztec Ruins! Whew- I was worried for a bit!

Anyway, I guess at one time, some folks who didn't know much about the native people called them Aztec, and gave the name to the nearest town. By the time they realized that these were not Aztec Ruins and that the people who had lived there were not Aztec either, I guess everyone was used to the name, so they just kept it. I found that a little odd and somewhat insulting to the ancestral people whose homes those actually were. As far as I know, the federal government is not very likely to change the name of the monument any time soon, and I didn't seen any obvious opposing protests about it either. I wonder though if other people are bothered by this as well?

Despite the name, the monument was very cool. Stepping into these dwellings takes you back in time, and I always imagine the lives that were lead there. I felt a little creepy after going into one room and learning that it had been used as burial chambers- we paid our respects and moved on, not feeling quite right about having intruded. The Great Kiva, a spiritual room, was a replica, but it was magnificent as well as huge. Being in this replicated kiva did not have quite the same feeling of positive energy for me as being in original kivas where we knew people had said prayers for hundreds of years, but it was very neat to go inside and see what it might have looked like when it was new.

My kids did the Junior Ranger program, so they spent a good amount of time hunting for clues, and reading, thinking and writing about the past. Bless the Ranger who gave them their badges- she was really, really into this program. I could tell she took the whole thing very seriously by her solemn manner when she swore them in. My kids were a little tripped out that she got teary eyed when they took the oath to protect and preserve the parks, but I told them it was great that she loved her job that much.

We  came away feeling a number of things- like there is a lot to gain from learning about both the wisdom and the mistakes of the people who came before us, feeling grateful for people who are passionate about what they do, and feeling like it's really nice to call people by the correct name if at all possible.

Moab, Jeeps and Arches

As soon as we pulled in to Moab, Utah, I noticed that it  is one of the sportiest little towns that we've seen. Boy Child immediately noticed that almost every vehicle was a four wheel drive, and by the mud all over many of them, they looked as if they had recently been four wheeling. He borrowed my camera and began snapping 12 million pictures of vehicles that his daddy would love.
What I also noticed was that people were in shorts, and after a few very brisk days of Colorado spring (which was a lot like California winter) I was just glad to see that we were in for some warmer weather. I also noticed that the shops and restaurants all along the main street were bustling with people. We hadn't known it at the time, but apparently we managed to land in Moab during"Jeep Safari Week" which apparently is a pretty big deal. Of course, as usual on this trip, we knew where some campgrounds were, but had no reservations and no firm place to stay.
It was late afternoon and a Friday, and by the busy look of things, I suspected that we might have some competition for camp sites.

We stopped by the visitors center and borrowed their WIFI while we ate some sandwiches. Free visitor center WIFI was definitely one of the handiest things we encountered on this trip, but in this case, it just told me that the local campgrounds were first come, first served. There were a ton of people asking questions of the staff, so we just grabbed a few brochures and didn't bother getting in line to talk to anyone.

We did learn that it was the start of "Free National Parks Week" which would undoubtedly add another element of challenge to our camp site quest.

Before heading off in search of a temporary home, we wanted more food. After a few weeks on the road, I had lost many of my usual standards. We ate really well most of the time, as in food that was good both in quality and quantity, which is pretty normal for us. But sometimes, things were definitely NOT along our usual lines. I had fed my children pie for breakfast (it was real fruit at least) and had not only purchased and taken part in the consuming of a massive 44 ounce Dr Pepper, I actually shared it with my kids. None of these things are normal for us, but at this point, daily showers were not always happening either, so what's really the big deal with some corn syrup in the morning?

In this case, we actually drove through an embarrassing fast food drive through- a franchise which I have not eaten at in many, many years and am too embarrassed to name, and we drove out eating greasy, meat and bacon-ish products. We then stopped and topped off this junk food fest with ice cream before tackling our camp site search. For a person who usually thinks about things like salt, sugar and fat, I didn't really have any regrets.

There are a string of campgrounds along the Colorado River conveniently located between Arches National Park and Moab. We felt optimistic about finding some place to stay around there. Apparently, so did many of the Jeep enthusiasts because the first five of the campgrounds we saw had "FULL" signs across the entry. I whipped our wagon into the the first one without a sign- sixth or seventh we had driven by- and before I could even park, the host came walking up with the bad news. Luckily he made us an offer that we snapped up. The group site was open, and we could pitch our tent there if we didn't mind sharing the spot.

This host took his duties very seriously and have everyone a talking to about 10 pm "quiet time" and no partying etc. That was fine with us, but I found it amusing that we got an extra little lecture about kids safety and respect and not playing ball next to campfires. Maybe the fast food aroma we were emitting gave me a "bad mom" impression? In any case, we loved the stone tables and having the river right by us. The lack of showers was a bummer, and the pit toilets was an even bigger bummer. But as a base to explore Arches, it was perfect.

Arches ended up being one of my Boy Child's favorite National Parks, mainly because he could climb, scramble and clamber over all sorts of rocks. Girl Child wondered why the brochure she picked up encouraged us to stand below giant and precariously perched rock formations while we "gaze up and ponder the unlikely balance"- especially since in the same brochure it talked about the several hundred pound chunk of boulder that suddenly and unexpectedly fell off of one of the formations a few years ago. We decided to ponder other things besides falling rock while we gazed up from below. Mostly, we were just in awe of how wonderful and different each park is.

We spent a couple of days doing a lot of hiking, exploring, and admiring the amazing variety of colors and shapes in the landscape. Nature is a magnificent thing.

Besides the tent

Yes, we slept in a tent for 5 weeks. Thank goodness that living in a tent really isn't as bad or as difficult as many people imagine that it would be. As long as my mat held air, which it did every night except the first, when I didn't close the valve all the way, I slept very soundly in my awesome and toasty REI sleeping bag. Overall, our tent home was actually pretty cozy.

What was hard was packing up and moving our little home every few days. I had meticulously packed the car on departure, and every centimeter of space was neatly filled with stuff. I never seemed to be able to replicate that neatness when re-packing though, and it became more and more difficult to stuff, cram and wedge all of our belongings into the car at all. At times, it felt like our belongings were growing and breeding, like even though we kept eating food, there was never any more room to put things.

We learned to adapt to moving often though. In no time, we could have our little camp scene set up, and dinner cooking on the Coleman stove. Take down was another story. We did get faster, but it was never as simple as set up. The jam packed car sort of looked like vagabonds lived in it at times, but I have convinced myself that vagabonds and hobos are two entirely different things. We had a home besides our tent, we were just really far away from it, and so for a month or so, the tent and car were our home- that made us more along the lines of nomads than hobos.

We had an interesting discussion on the difference while getting gas somewhere in New Mexico. Boy Child noticed a traveler who looked far more nomadic and road weary than we did. He may have crossed the hobo line, but that is not a judgment call in the least. In any case, Boy Child was rather upset when he noticed that this fellows rather dirty Therma Rest sleeping mat was in fact nicer than his own flimsy foam pad. Boy Child had his choice of several mats we had at home before we left, and he chose the thinnest one. I mentioned this to him at the time, but he assured me it was fine. Apparently, he was no longer so pleased with his choice, and shook his head muttering, "That hobo had a nicer mat than me." This went on for days. Perhaps Girl Child and I could have been sympathetic, but we found it hilarious.

While we all generally liked the tent, thin mats aside, there were some occasions when setting it up or sleeping in it was just not happening. Snow, thunderstorms, 35 mile per hour winds and things like that tend to make the tent life a little less fun. On these occasions, we were happy to find some alternative "kamping" arrangements via KOA or other private campgrounds with cabins. We learned early on after a couple of unpleasant hotels, that these cabins tended to be a much better choice than a cheap motel. The cabins are pretty much identical wherever they are, but it was a very cute look that the kids loved. Besides the bunk beds and porch wings, they also had playgrounds, mini heaters, electricity and WIFI. One even had a TV, but we didn't use it.

My favorite place we stayed, besides the tent, on this trip was definitely the Durango Hometown Hostel. I have stayed at a number of hostels in my life, and this was by far the cleanest hostel I have ever been in. This place was cleaner than my house! (Not that my house is going to win any Good Housekeeping awards, but the point is, I was really impressed with this place.)

We arrived unexpectedly and with no reservations, just a few minutes before they closed the office for the night. We were slightly desperate because our planned campground was closed, it was cold and getting dark, and my car was acting up. Unfortunately, there were no private rooms available. There were co-ed dorms available, but I was not exactly comfortable with the idea of my kids and I in a room with men I didn't know. The two women who were staying in the ladies dorm had gone out for the evening, so they couldn't ask them if they would be OK with Boy Child staying in there with us. It looked like we were going back out on the streets to try our luck with a hotel, but thank heavens for smart and wonderful people.

The friendly manager found a great solution by asking a man who was staying in a co-ed dorm by himself if he would mind moving to a male dorm for the night so that my family could have that room. I thought I would have to ask my kids to make sad, puppy dog eyes to guilt trip him into compliance, but he was a very nice man, and agreed, sight unseen. A few minutes later, we were set up with clean linens, and a private room for the night- all for the bargain price of $60. The internet worked, they had a real stove, there were no funky smells, the showers were clean, and they even fed us ice cream cake.

So if you ever find yourself near Durango, Colorado and in need of a place to stay, I would highly recommend the Hometown Hostel. The town is adorable as well, with a free trolley bus system that you can ride all around downtown- a very handy thing while your car is being checked out by the mechanic.

And if you ever find yourself with the chance to spend 5 weeks in a tent, I would say go for it. It's probably cozier than you would think, at least when the weather cooperates. My Boy Child would advise that you bring a good mat though.

Writing, writing, writing

When I was dreaming about taking a 5 week vacation to explore National Parks in the west, I imagined a trip full of time for reading, contemplating big life issues, and writing- lots and lots of productive writing. I thought I would chronicle my journey, keeping my blog up to date with our latest adventures every couple of days.

Well, it didn't exactly happen like that. I did not finish reading one of the 5 books I took with me on the trip, and I didn't do much in the way of contemplating either. I was too busy exploring. And while I was faithfully able to keep up with blog the first couple of weeks, as the journey went on, I got further and further behind.

Electricity can be hard to come by when you are living in a tent, and WIFI is sometimes a few days away. Besides, I was enjoying all the new sights and places, and I didn't want to leave that in search of a place to plug in. Just the very act of trying to figure out where we going next took up quite a bit of time as well. The basics like food and shelter won out over the blog, but I do have an assortment of scribbled notes, along with a bazillion photos, stubs of paper, and miscellaneous memorabilia that is waiting to be sorted and organized. Eventually, I have faith that at least some of it will get fashioned into something that will get posted or used somehow .

In the mean time, I am relishing one of the many life lessons that I took away from my time traveling- that is that there is a whole lot out in the world to enjoy. I cannot possibly see or do it all, but I want to see and do what I can at a pace that feeds my soul rather than sucking the life out of it. I really don't want to waste my time stressing out about trying to cram everything in, but spend it appreciating what I can.

Along those lines, rather than stressing about being behind on my blog, I am appreciating the recent successes I've had with my writing. I was on the road when my latest articles went to print, but they made it nonetheless.

As a writer for parenting magazines, I am blessed to get to research and learn about things that interest me, and get to interview a lot of inspirational people as well.

Here's a link to an article on baby wearing which I recently had the pleasure of writing for NorthState Parent Magazine. I love all those adorable babies, and am inspired by the dedicated mamas who pack them about. I also was asked to write about a wonderful couple who works with special needs kids, linked here. It's a great thing to see how many good people there are in the world doing terrific things for our future.

Finally, I have a  piece on CreekSchooling that is in the May / June issue of Home Education magazine. It's a piece I wrote quite a while back, but re-reading it reminds me of what a wonderful lifestyle we have found. Even better, it's in a magazine full of articles that support that lifestyle, by writers who can understand it.

I think I'll get off the computer, and enjoy that lifestyle with my family right now.

Check Engine

There are some things in life that make you realize that you are very, very minuscule in the scheme of things.

Standing under giant trees that are hundreds of years old is one of them. Looking up at humongous rocks that tower over you or canyons that seem to go on forever and have been being carved by rivers for millions of years are a couple more.

Having the "check engine" light go on in your 17 year old car with over 160,000 miles on it, and your two children on board with you, while driving on an mountain road in the middle of nowhere in Colorado at 8500 feet, especially when that road that has no place to pull over, no guard rails and sheer cliff drop offs, where I doubt anything that remained of your remains would ever be found if you went off- that really tends to make you feel like any illusion of control that you have is really, really tiny.

At least the car was running OK when the newest of the problem lights came on and I was on the above mentioned mountain highway. The car is a highway cruiser and thrives on the open (and flat) road, but has always been a bit sluggish on hills. It has also had a few other lights that have come on and off for a few months- an anti-lock brake warning and a transmission one, which are equally important and nerve wracking to have come on. But, I have been assured these things are fine. The "Check Engine" was new, and not very reassuring, especially when the car started a mild shuttering and sputtering when I pulled into the next town and stopped for a red light.

I saw no place open to deal with my mysterious engine issue, but I did notice that every time that I drove, it was fine. It was only when I stopped that the engine started sounding like a smokers cough, and doing a little shake. Did I mention that it was getting dark?

These are the kinds of moments when people start whipping out prayers, and I am no exception. Since the car drove just fine, I took it as a sign we should drive on. We drove to the campground that we had planned to stay at for the night where I planned to research my options. The good news was that it wasn't far, and there were relatively few stops on the way, so that was without incident. When we got there however, we found out the bad news. There was a big locked gate that prevented us from getting in. Due to a late winter, it was not yet open for the season.

Boy Child again wanted to sleep right there in the car. I wanted to cry. Instead, we drove. We had no idea where we were going. There were no other campgrounds that were nearby and open for the season. There were no hostels in the vicinity listed in our guide book. After our last unpleasant hotel stay, we weren't liking that idea either, but it was getting darker and we were getting hungrier by the minute. Plus, every time I stopped, the car's shaky cough started again. I was feeling mildly desperate, but knowing full well that even in my annoying situation, my problems were fairly small on a global scale, and my preferences and requests were probably pretty low on the importance chart.

But, blessed as we are, things got better. It was Girl Child who ended up saving the day when she spotted a sign for the Durango Hometown Hostel. We had refuge, not to mention showers and WIFI.

I researched online that night, and suspected that the culprit was the elevation. The car was having trouble getting oxygen just like we did when hiking so high up. The next day we got a quick check on the car at a mechanic, and since there were no obvious problems, we went with my high elevation theory and headed to lower grounds. The warning light went off and the shuttering mellowed out, and my relief was so big that I even bought my kids a giant Dr. Pepper, which is something that I never, ever do.

The light came back on and the shuttering commenced several more times during our travels, pretty much every time we were above 6500 feet in elevation. But at least the worry was smaller and we could feel a little more confident that we'd be fine if we kept going. We went on with our journey feeling happy and blessed indeed.

Beautiful Bandelier

There are so many places that neither my kids nor I had never even heard of before we set off on this south west adventure, and Bandelier National Monument is one of them. It's also probably my favorite of my discoveries. Bandelier is in the Jemez mountains in the northern part of New Mexico. It's an easy drive from Santa Fe, which was a lovely little town in it's own right, with some especially awesome chili. To get to Bandelier you wind your way up through these mountains and canyons that reminded me of northern California. The scenery was spectacular- and such refreshing treat to our desert weary eyes- there were trees and greenery everywhere.

But the coolest part by far was the homes of the ancestral Pueblo people- they were these amazing cave condos built right into the cliffs. After setting up camp, we explored and explored. Some places were for looking only, but I couldn't believe they actually let us climb right into some of the cliff-side dwellings.

The highlight was at climbing up 4 or 5 ladders, something like 140 feet up, and looking out at the beautiful valley below from a home that people lived in 800 years ago or so. The ladders weren't as scary as my Girl Child had imagined, although looking down was a little freaky. We were so impressed with how neat these cave homes were though that we really didn't care about the heights.

What I can't imagine though, is climbing up and down the ladders carrying pots of water on my head, or a baby on my back or a big sack of corn like the ancient people must have. I think I am semi hardy, at least by modern American standards, but when I think of things like that, I always feel a little less competent in my athletic prowess.

Anyhow, at the very top of the multi-story dwelling was the entrance to the great kiva- a round ceremonial room that you had to climb another ladder down to get into. We spent some time in there talking and imagining the lives of the people who had lived there- how many prayers were given, decisions made, and even babies born, right in the same spot in the ceremonial room we were sitting in.

Another very cool thing about Bandelier is the man that it was named after. He was a 40 year old self taught anthropologist whose story shows that you're never too old to keep learning, teaching yourself, and enjoying the gift of life. Bandelier was not happy working at his father's family business, which he was expected to run for life, so he wrapped up his work there, and took himself and the knowledge he had acquired, and went to explore the Indian ruins in the west. He found some amazing things, probably enjoyed himself a lot more than he would have if he hadn't gone for it, and ended up with a National Monument named after him.

As a family that is committed to life learning and following dreams, that kind of story is always inspiring.

We also saw plenty of not so wildlife while visiting. There were deer on the trail, a crazy big eared squirrel who ran at people at extremely high speeds like he was playing chicken, and a coyote who just cruised right next to us as we ate lunch one day, pausing only to look at us like "hey, what's up?" before he headed on his way.

For the beauty in nature, the history, the story behind the name, and the over all cool factor, of all the ancient native dwellings and ruins we visited on this trip, I have to say, Bandelier is at the top of the list.

Petroglyphs- Rock Art, Ancient Graffiti or Something Sacred?

We have had the pleasure of seeing lots and lots of petroglyphs on this south west journey we are on. These ancient artwork symbols adorn rocks for hundreds of miles, and many of them are 700 or more years old. Some of the best were at Saguaro National Park. We also went to Petroglyph National Monument, and those were nice too, but honestly, the place didn't have the magic. That's probably because there is now a subdivision of big look alike houses that comes practically right up to the chain link fence around the monument. When we climbed the hill trail, and looked out beyond the petroglyphs, what we saw was suburbia encroaching on a large scale.
At Saguaro, we looked out and saw nothing but desert and mountains and cacti, and you could just imagine the people who were once there. It was much more conducive to contemplating the messages that these ancient people might have been sending than a housing tract. I am glad that they did at least fence in Petroglyph National Monument, and that they are preserving it, but still, we all wished they could have sprung for a little more land around it. I guess budgets affect everything.

In any case, Boy Child had lots of questions on the meanings of these drawings. Were they just art or were they messages? Were they ancient graffiti artists? Why do we see the same images in so many places? Do they have a sacred meaning? Will anthropologists someday in the future be mystified by the graffiti of today when they uncover crumbling bridges and walls in cities of our time? We all got a kick out of that idea.

Boy Child also spent some time making petroglyphs of his own (not in the National Park or anywhere near the ancient ones of course, just at our campsite and on random rocks.)

No one really has an answer to his questions, but in any case, these ancient drawings were pretty cool to look at and ponder the what and why they are still there.

Art in El Paso

Since we are trying to see each of the 50 states in the next 5 years, we wanted to hit as many as possible on our south western adventure. But, at the same time, we didn't want to just do drive-throughs- we actually wanted to spend some time and explore each place. So, we came to a bit of a problem with Texas. we would be very near the border, so we felt we should hit it. Our primary stop in the state would have been to see our friends who live in Austin, which I hear is a pretty hip town, but it's nowhere near the border we were near, and Texas as you know is a really big state.
When we realized our friends were about 14 hours each way out of our way, we decided to save that travel time to enjoy the other sights on the way. But, we still wanted to at least see some of Texas, which led us to El Paso.
I had two different people advise me against going to El Paso, no offense to those who may be connected in any way to the place, but these people basically said it was a dive and we should not bother.
Well, we didn't listen. I just kept hearing that song "Out in the west Texas town of El Paso, I fell in love with a Mexican girl...." and I thought, how bad could it be? Besides, in her travel research, my Girl Child found that the art museum in El Paso had an incredible impressionists exhibit covering Monet to Matisse. That was enough to get us there.

It was awesome, awesome, awesome- the art museum that is, not the city overall. The city overall was a border town, and we drove down some depressing poverty stricken streets on our way to check out a mission. I had an unreasonable fear of somehow accidentally crossing the border and getting stuck in Juarez, with all of it's dangerous travel warnings, and without our passports. We didn't though- we made it in and out without unintentionally ending up in Mexico or getting run down by any of the giant trucks driven by testosterone fueled men wearing big hats. The mission was pretty, but the art museum- that was impressive.

Their regular collection featured all sorts of cool sculptures and a large Renaissance collection, which you were allowed to photograph and were splendid in themselves, but  the impressionists display- that was simply awe inspiring. Not only did we see works by both Monet and Matisse, but also Degas, Chagall, and so many more. We made a list of the artists all on a napkin, which of course we lost, probably after someone blew their nose on it. I do love the fact that I can take my kids to art museums, and they like it though. I am a lucky lady indeed.

The museum also had interesting information about the artists lives, their connections and the time periods, so there was an educational component along with the beauty, and they did a great job at making it interesting.

Boy Child was amazed at "how you could see how much paint they glopped on up close, but it looks really cool when you stand back at a distance." Girl Child was just all around appreciative of seeing all those great works in one place. Of course, you can't take pictures of those great works, but we will remember the experience, for sure.

We got in a tad bit of trouble when I did take a picture of this hands on, movable felt art piece, and my flash caught the eye of  the security man. He rushed over and scolded me severely. I was under the impression that since we were allowed to touch and alter the piece, in fact a sign advised us to do so, which of course we would not even consider doing to a Monet, that I could also take a picture. Mr. Serious Security Man however thought that it might confuse other people into thinking that they could photograph  the other valuable works (even though those all had very clear "No Photography signs with both pictures and words.) Apparently, he has no faith in common sense, but I didn't argue with him. Another guest did though, because she thought he was being ridiculous, so while they discussed his lack of logic, we snuck off.

So, while I don't have much else to say about El Paso (other than don't get lost on scary side streets) I can honestly say that their art museum is well worth a visit. Just watch out for the security man.

The Kind People of New Mexico

Everywhere we went in the state of new Mexico, we ran into very kind people. At first it was a string of nice old men who like to chat, and I mean that in a good way, not a creepy way. Sometime after we crossed the border from Arizona, we stopped at a gas station, and there was a good old guy working there who told us all kinds of stories about how he remembers when gas was 19 cents a gallon, and that when he was a boy of about eight years old, his father would send him to the store with 50 cents to buy a pack of cigarettes, and that he had to always bring back the change. My kids got a kick out of imagining someone trying to send their eight year old to buy cigarettes, but they got even more of a kick out of when he told us how excited his whole family was the first time they got a car that would go 55 miles per hour.
Next stop was a hotel in some town outside of Las Cruces because it was too late to keep driving or to set up camp. The old fellow there treated us to stories about a painful mule ride into the Grand Canyon. The same old fellow was very kind when for some mysterious reason our shower the next day only had scalding hot water, and would not, no matter what you did or how many knobs you turned, offer any cold. At first I thought my Girl Child was being dramatic about the temperature, but it was honestly so hot you could make tea. Since no one could figure it out, the nice old gentleman offered to just let us have another room to get showered in without my having to ask.

By the time we hit Albuquerque, I had a chance to see other kind New Mexicans in action. In fact, at a little stop in the historic old town district, I somehow managed in a moment of grace to knock a decorated ceramic cow scull off the wall and send it shattering to the ground. I have no idea how much this cost, but as in most touristy gift shops, everything else was expensive. I figured I would have to pay for it, as these kinds of places usually have a "you break it, you bought it" policy, and I was fine with that, even though it was the kind of thing that I wouldn't even like if it weren't broken. But, almost instantly a very nice young sales girl asked me if I was OK, and when I started to apologize, she totally took the blame and said that it was hung in the wrong way, that it wasn't my fault, that she was so glad I wasn't hurt, etc, etc. I was embarrassed and grateful at the same time, and we hurried out of there.
We met similarly nice folks in Santa Fe who took the time to explain the particulars of making the chili we bought, and who gave us a lighter and a pack of matches at our campground in Bandellier when our lighter died.
All of us were very impressed with the people, and the state of New Mexico. It's so refreshing to confirm how many genuinely nice people there are in the world. We would love to come back to visit again, especially the beautiful mountains in the north.

White Sand Everywhere

Taking a snow sled down sand dunes is something that has never occurred to me, but we spent a super fun day doing just that in White Sands National Monument.

The place is amazing with miles and miles of glowing white sand hills in every direction. It's a little like being on another planet.

The gift shop is all over the idea of sand sledding, and of course it sells snow disks- overpriced round little plastic sleds that look a bit like a trash can lid.

I am so glad we did it. The dunes are beautiful to walk around and explore, but the sleds were really the funnest. There are a few advantages to sliding on sand versus snow. The first and most important- it's not cold! Going back up the hill though- Whew- what a workout that was. At the time, I was thinking a chair lift would have been convenient, but in hindsight, I guess that my cross the line of over commercialization of a National Park.

We thought this sand / snow crossover thing was so cool that we attempted making sand angels. They didn't quite turn out the same and required a bit more imagination to picture the end result as an angel, but it was entertaining anyway.

The sales girl talked us into also getting a bar of wax to make the sled go faster, which seemed like one of those useless add ons, but it was 75 cents, so I bought it. The wax was a good call, and actually really helped you move and not get stuck- especially when the largest and heaviest member of our party (me) got going.

You can even return the sand disk at the end, in case like me, you have no other use for a sled in the middle of the desert, and you get $5 back. The only problem with the whole roll about in the sand, slide around and make sand angels, is that now we have sand everywhere, and I do mean everywhere. 

When we arrived, there were signs everywhere asking us not to take the sand. Apparently, some people fill up jars to take back home, which seems like a semi pointless souvenir to me when a picture could get the point across just as well, not make a mess, or take up as much room. While it seems like the miles and miles of sand dunes could never be depleted, I guess with enough usage they could. Anyway, we hadn't planned on taking any with us, but it was in our hair, clothes, and shoes. This apparently, is the primary disadvantage to sand versus snow. At least snow melts and eventually dries. Sand is with you for a long time- possibly forever.
Now I am a firm believer in the "Don't take anything" from National Parks rule. We respect that the area is meant to be preserved, so we don't take rocks, sticks, plants, anything. Plus, I realize that if everyone who went to the popular parks took just one thing, it would all be gone soon. Honestly though, we brushed off, and had no intention of taking any of the lovely white sand dunes with us, but still, every stop we made for the next few days, we would leave a mini pile of white sand in our wake. In fact, nearly a week later, I opened Boy Child's backpack, and out dumped another pile. We swept our contraband into a baggy figuring it was already out of the park and just going to get sucked up by a shop vacuum if left there.

So, like it or not, we have a messy and beautiful reminder of the beautiful white sand dunes. We're still in awe of the beauty of them- unlike much of the desert where you really need to stop and look, the beauty here just jumps out at you, and apparently, it sticks with you as well.