Palace of the Governors - Santa Fe, New Mexico photo by Gregory E. Larson |
Travel
across the high plains today isn’t what it used to be in the 19th
Century. Satellite radio, iPods, and CD’s kept me entertained while the GPS map
and the voice directed me to the destination. Coffee and fast food were within arm’s
reach. In one day, I was able to complete a journey that took four months to
travel in the 1800s. The latest trip to the Southwest didn’t diminish my focus
on history as I pulled off the Interstate highway and drove to one of my
favorite destinations.
Deep Roots in Santa Fe
travel memoir
by Gregory E. Larson
I walked
alone down the narrow streets of Santa Fe, along the historical road that once
held countless wagon trains, and funneled them to the heart of the enigmatic
city. It was good to be back, although just for one evening on my quick journey
through New Mexico. Something tugged on my spirit while I absorbed the sights
and sounds. My thoughts wandered to all of the people who walked or rode down
this street at the end of their long journey across the plains. What were they
thinking? Were they relieved to have survived the months-long trek and its
dangers of storms, drought, heat, robbers, and native tribes? I can imagine the
cool breeze was refreshing to them as they crossed Glorieta Pass, viewed the
chimney smoke and smelled the piñon and aspen on their approach to
Santa Fe, which was established in 1610 as the northern colonial capital of
Spain’s presence in North America.
Before I
walked past the La Fonda Hotel, I took a short diversion along the narrow
Vargas Rd. to see the oldest house in the United States. It was built (circa
1646) on top of pueblo ruins which were estimated to have been part of a native
village that existed around the year 1000. The unassuming adobe structure has
survived many revisions as well as potential destruction. I walked through the
gift shop and down some steps, ducked my head at the doorways and viewed the
two small, simple rooms. It was my kind of destination, one that is probably
missed by many tourists, even though its roots are deep.
As I left
Vargas Rd. and walked down the street towards the city center, I passed young
millennials, old hippies, Native Americans, Hispanics, vagrants, and people
from all points along the socio-economic strata. The mixture is hard to
describe. You have to see it for yourself: tourists, artists, locals, all passing
through a portal of time and space. Time itself is a strange commodity here.
Centuries are fleeting but the clock seemed to stop on that late afternoon as I
stood in the center of the plaza, where the inscriptions on a monument/obelisk
celebrate the Union troop’s 1860s victories over the local native “uprisings.”
Monument in the Santa Fe Plaza photo by Gregory E. Larson |
The Palace
of the Governors, on the north side of the plaza, is the oldest continuously-operating
public building in the United States, having been established by the Spanish
sometime between 1610 and 1618. The Native Americans have been selling their
wares along the sidewalk at the front of the building for centuries.
Sounds of
Harley mufflers punctuated the air while a group of motorcycle riders circled
the center of town.
The Palace of the Governors - Santa Fe, New Mexico photo by Gregory E. Larson |
Unceremoniously,
two Native-American men approached the obelisk. They wore everyday jeans and
shirts, and carried a large drum. Without hesitation they began to beat the drum
and sang a soft chant. I stood near them while the sunlight shafts filtered
through the trees, and wondered the significance of their song. Were they
giving a memorial to their ancestors? Was this a centuries-long protest next to
the monument that celebrated the demise of their older relatives? Was it a
prayer for the living or the dead? I didn’t know the answer, but I felt they
had tapped another deep root of this special place, and struck a nerve of the spirit
of Santa Fe.
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