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Old New Mexico The next day, we made our longest drive of the trip, 455 miles from Canyon Village to Flagstaff for breakfast, and then out across some of the emptiest land in North America on I-70 to Santa Fe.

I regret that I don't have much to report about this day. Flagstaff is still a wonderful town, and Kathy's Café serves a fabulous breakfast. There are lots of trucks on I-70.

Meteor Crater Well, $12 each, for one reason ...but as it turned out, the hype is in the service of science, and in addition to letting you look in their big hole -- somewhat anticlimactic after the Grand Canyon -- they have a neat museum and a cool video. And nice bathrooms. And an enormous gift shop. Every "attraction" needs a gift shop.

We were zooming along on I-70 trying not to get crunched between semis when we saw a sign "National Landmark: Meteor Crater". Why not? picturesque upthrust rock

We'd been trying for days to find milk shakes, and finally succeeded in a Love's travel stop just outside of Gallup, New Mexico. Yummy, too. Apparently milk shakes are illegal in Arizona.

Sunset from our B&B outside Santa Fe

I had some misgivings about Santa Fe, the oldest continuously inhabited European settlement in what is now the United States (and Canada). Once a picturesque colonial town, it's been overwhelmed by migrations of snow birds, and ticky-tacky mock adobes litter the desert for miles around. Is there anything that looks worse than an adobe two car garage? So we stayed well out of town.

We braved the Plaza the next morning, visited the Governor's Palace, the oldest continuously occupied public building north of Mexico City. The area around the Plaza has been turned into a machine for separating the throngs of tourists from their money. There are more hoity toity galleries in Santa Fe than you can imagine. We saw some lovely overpriced Navajo jewelry, Zuni kachinas, and Zuñi fetishes.

Museum of Fine Art exterior

Since my last visit, all the utilities in the downtown section have been undergorunded, and it's definitely easier to look at. It's also become clear that the southwestern indians do have a remarkable artistic sense, and here in Santa Fe (and Taos) they receive deserved recognition. (Which, of course, means we can't afford any of their work.) I'm still not sure what I think of mock-adobe big-box offices. Anglo architects use the material well enough, I guess, but they fail to get the spirit of adobe building. The result is a pleasing but synthetic look, neither southwestern nor modern, exactly, but something in between.

Santa Fe, we were told, is the fourth largest art market in the U.S. and, to their credit, the city fathers have created a wonderful museum complex on a hill overlooking town, where indian artisans and artists are celebrated. We especially enjoyed a display and film about cultural treasure Maria Martinez' work.

Diego Romero's White Corn Maiden (bowl)

The next day we went out to Taos Pueblo, quite possibly the oldest continuously occupied structure on the American continents -- now this is more like it. four-story Pueblo detail The Pueblo have wrested 225,000 acres of land that was originally theirs back from anglo and hispanic (in the original sense, Spanish) land grabs, which makes them one of the wealthiest tribes. They reputedly have preserved their culture successfully. Yes, they have a casino -- it's small, and -- get this -- it's smoke-free.

Taos It's a very brief ride from Santa Fe to Taos, and we were looking forward to spending time with our old colleagues and friends Charles and Sakina Bush, so without a backward glance we headed north. West complex, Taos Pueblo Taos Pueblo, like the Navajo Nation, is a sovereign country within a country, with its own laws, police and courts, and a successfully antagonistic relationship with the oppressors ...that would be us.

fresh adobe and ancient viga	This is what adobe multi-story buildings should look like -- set backs at each story, multi-levels, freshly adobed surfaces once a year or oftener. This building has had families living in it for at least 800 years. I love the fact that here at Taos Pueblo, the word Pueblo means (1) people, (2) community, and (3) the proud name of a proud tribe.
Every morning for ten centuries, fires have been started in these ovens, and the bread baked for the pueblo. The church in the background has been destroyed twice, by U.S. soldiers the second time, with sixty women and children locked inside. The Pueblo decided not to rebuild, but to make it sacred ground. Does this sound like a familiar story?	ovens, graveyard, abandoned chapel

San Francisco Chapel, Taos Pueblo The true religious work of the Pueblo is carried on by the men in their underground kivas -- more about this when we get to Mesa Verde, where the practice began. Here at Taos Pueblo, visitors never see inside the houses, or the kivas.	The Catholics built a third time, and this lovely little chapel persists. Sadly, despite efforts by the religious leaders, the Church is implicated in the refusal by Pueblo elders to share their special knowledge and beliefs with the oppressors. Do they know things that we need to know? especially those of us who choose to live in the southwest? kivas
new mud	What could be more authentic than buildings made of the soil they stand on, reinforced with straw grown in the adjacent fields, applied for generation after generation in the same way? Even the stainless steel chimneypots and plastic rain gutters catch a bit of authenticity -- the best of the old easily carries the weight of the modern.

There's a lot more to Taos -- lovely mountains, fabulous trails, the dramatic gorge of the Rio Grande where the desert plate subducts the continental. There's a concentration of spiritual seekers, perhaps drawn by the resonant life of the Pueblo, too, that raises everyone's consciousness. Experimentalism in building may have started with the Pueblo, but more recent efforts have been carried out by residents of Greater World, an earthship community on the far side of the gorge. What will they think of next? Vertical south walls?

Rio Grande gorge

Martian neighborhood? No, it's Lemuria!

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