During the first weekend of October, I set-out on a highly anticipated girls weekend in Santa Fe, New Mexico. After almost a year of planning, the reunion of my high school besties has finally arrived.
It begins early on a Thursday morning. It’s a fitful night’s sleep. I wake in a panic at 1:15am and then toss and turn until I wake-up in a second panic as I’ve been sleeping with the alarm on for half an hour. Somehow I manage to get dressed and out the door with all my required belongings in less than fifteen minutes. Not my favorite way to start a 5am day, but I am so excited it doesn’t matter. And a confidence-building reminder to self: It takes exactly twenty minutes from our doorstep to check bags, get through security, and be drinking a Peet’s Americano. #SJCLove
So Jill is on the flight with me to Albuquerque. We’ve known each other since Junior High. We blabbidy blab blab all the way to San Diego, and then blabbidy blab blab all the way to New Mexico. My how the time flies when you have a friend to talk to and no little munchkins hanging off your body like darling, oversized blond bracelets. Jill is queen o’ the hashtag and my social media idol. #FreeToDoWhatIWantAnyOldTime
We meet up with Jenny and Melanie at the airport and after a short wait, board the shuttle to Santa Fe. We make it to the Inn at Loretto and proceed to check-in and seek out sustenance. Cafe Pasqual’s is our first stop. Highly popular. Tiniest most claustrophobic bathroom corridor in America. I buy a buffet of cookies and a giant hunk of fudge to tide us over until we can be seated. #CookiesForLunch
Pasqual’s is a winner. We’re joined by Emily, Alesia and Jamie A. and wolf down four orders of mole enchiladas and pear salads with pomegranate and cheese. The food is fresh and delicious. The ambiance is greenhouse aviary fiesta. We poke around some shops and then head back to the hotel to rest. A few hours later we gather the whole crew and head out to eat again at The Shed. Great ambiance, average food, undrinkable margarita. We head back to the hotel for a nightcap and dessert by the fireplace and are joined by Sarah after a long and challenging day of travel. #GabFest
The next morning we wake-up from another fitful night’s sleep and set out to eat… again. Looking back, it seems like we ate a lot, but it was more like a roller coaster of feast and famine. We make it to the Plaza Cafe which has a great diner vibe and a giant booth with a view onto the beautiful central plaza. It feels like Mexico. The food is great and we can talk as long and as loud as we want. #HuevosDivorciados
After breakfast we head to the Georgia O’Keeffe museum. It only has one or two of her famous flower pictures, but an enchanting painting of Macchu Picchu. The video about her life is the best part. Outside, I am sucked into taking a photograph for a Taiwanese trio. After four tries with the still photo feature of their video camera, I assure them it worked and make a stealthy escape. We peruse the many shops and declare our favorites to be Maya, Savory Spices and the middle eastern salvage yard behind Serets. Unfortunately, I forget that James has texted me a place called Shiprock that is only open on Saturdays. Later I find out that people have called it one of the best shops in America. Guess I have a reason to go back. I decide to start collecting Mexican Milagros. And possibly garden wind sculpture.
That evening we head up Canyon Road for dinner at El Farol. Terrific tapas, intriguing over-forty dance scene. We head home and most of us let Jenny talk us into further exploring the Santa Fe nightlife. We’re lured into the Skylight by Why You Gotta Be So Rude. Jenny buys us a round of lemon drop shots. We’re driven out by some song about bitches. And perhaps the blind date/escort/hooker? in navajo spandex pants. #PuebloChic
The next morning we wake-up in anticipation of our spa day outside of town at Ten Thousand Waves. We think about grabbing a bite to eat and then coming back for two taxis out of town. I pause and suggest we set-up the cabs before we venture out for caffeine. At the front desk, Mike calls the cab company.
There are no taxis.
It’s the Albuquerque Balloon Fiesta.
The hotel doesn’t have a house car.
There is one car service.
They will charge us $244 for a 4 mile drive.
It’s outside of pedicab territory.
Sarah thinks she might run it.
Others consider walking really fast.
I’m not going to hike for over an hour to show-up stressed, sweaty and dirty from an hour plus walk in the desert.
I urge Mike to get more creative and assure him he’s going to figure this out.
He says we can all pile into his Mini Cooper.
I graciously accept.
He quickly dismisses the idea as a joke. Ha ha! Eight girls in a Mini Cooper!
I notice the other front desk guy, Gabriel.
He’s been pretty quiet.
I look around at the three men running this hotel on an early Saturday morning.
“OK, so who do you know in Santa Fe?”
They looks sheepish.
Gabriel volunteers a scrap of hope: He has a truck and we’ll fit between the bed and the cab.
“Are you allowed to ride in the back of a truck in New Mexico?” I ask.
“Well… no.”
“Perfect. Let’s go.”
#CrisisTurnedAdventure
Gabe pulls his F150 around to the side of the hotel and we discreetly jump in. Emily declares that all guys named Gabe are nice. I decide that if you want to be rescued, you can count on the guy with a truck. Sarah, Emily, Melanie and Jill get in the cab. Alesia, Jenny, Jamie A. and me lay down in the back like four crayons in a box. We tuck our feet under the giant built-in tool box with our heads toward the tailgate. And we’re off.
It is freezing. We have to snuggle. Jenny spends the entire drive trying to get a view with her iPhone in the air. I’m convinced a patrolman will notice her arms sticking up from the back of the truck and pull us over. Jenny does not worry about these things…policeman’s daughter. It feels like we’re driving forever. At one point Gabe pulls off the road and turns around. We decide that if he’s a desert killer we’ll overwhelm him, 8 versus 1. Fortunately, he’s not a killer; he just took the wrong road. We finally make it to the spa. We give Gabe a nice tip, promise this story won’t end up on Trip Advisor, and take a souvenir photo. #TailgateSelfie
Ten Thousand Waves is fantastic. I sign-up for the whole body restoration and am convinced I’ve died and gone to Japan. We eat delicious Japanese inspired morsels at the award winning restaurant. It’s one of our best meals. Fortunately Santa Fe’s two taxis make it back from the Balloon Fiesta and are available to take us back to town. Our driver tells us that the spa started as a hot tub that his dope-smoking hippie buddy bought back in the seventies. Now he’s a millionaire jet-setting spa consultant. #SantaFeHeyHey
We spend the afternoon wandering the shops and eat nachos that night at an unremarkable family restaurant. We return to the hotel to debate the merits of various Santa Cruz locales for our high school reunion. The next morning we venture back up Canyon Road to The Teahouse for an oatmeal recommendation. It’s essentially my favorite, black forbidden rice pudding. I buy a pair of souvenir boots. We toast the weekend. We hug. We shout Boston November 2015!
The weekend is so much more than shopping/strolling, spas, and the Southwest. We share our worst fears, discuss the merits of legalizing marijuana, tell stories about our kids, laugh about “electrology,” and reach new levels of hysteria imagining a pirate-themed high school reunion at the Coconut Grove. We trade cooking tips and eye-shadow lessons and reminisce about the time we got pulled over by the same South Carolina highway patrolman, twice. And we go through the painful but necessary process of choosing a Sacred Weekend to protect and anticipate every year. Because this… this is what it’s all about.
And to top it all off, Alesia tells me she read my blog and has my black Petunia Pickle Bottom wipes case, which means it’s been lost since Pasadena, June 2013.
#Perfect