Albuquerque new and old

I think we may be addicted to hotels now. All these pristine, quality beds. Lovely fresh quilts.

There have been only a couple of really disappointing hotels on this epic trip. Mainly it has been a luxury.

In Albuquerque, we are in a Marriott. We have become very fond of them.

In this case, we are assigned a 17th floor corner room with a fabulous view which includes mountains, city roads and sprawl and, what’s that down there, a ritzy brand new super modern mall?

I’m in deep need of retail therapy.

We unpack, check out the pool and hotel layout and then stroll out on a shopping mission. Patient Bruce sits on pleasant shady benches while I dart in and out of chic stores -

Anthropologie, Bebe, Chico’s, Gap, Michael Kors. I love to shop but I am a terrible shopper. I don’t buy anything.

We do, however, go to the mega wine store. It covers just about a city block and it is sensational in its extraordinary range and layout. It not only puts wines in their grape varieties and countries, it also sets them out in moods and flavours. Truly. There are whole sections under Crisp & Clean, Elegant &

Refined, Sweet & Decadent, Big & Robust.. They have tastings going in all directions. We did not try anything. Moscato ain’t our thing. Nor sweet liqueurs. We just wander around with our jaws dropping at the scale.

Our jaws drop again when we are leaving.

The checkout girl has been experimenting with zombie makeup for Halloween. Gruesome doesn’t begin to cover it. Her face is enough to turn a person to drink.

Perhaps that is the idea.

We hit the bar at our hotel for a drink and a decent feed of prawns. There are people in Halloween costumes all over the place. This country goes nuts with it. Pirates and pumpkin people, scarecrows, ghosts, butchers, characters from TV and cartoons.

We retreat to our divine room and the city lights.

In the morning, Bruce asks the room service girl why she is not in costume. She is most offended. Apparently she does not ordinarily wear red shorts and white leggings with her hair in upright pigtails. She is a TV character of which we’ve never heard.

It’s just a pitstop in Albuquerque, After a simply luscious swim in the hotel pool and an hour of lovely morning sun, we pack the car and go to explore the city before continuing our journey.

We find Historic Albuquerque and are in seventh heaven. I have never see so many chilies. There are chilies in great, fat strands adorning gates and doors and verandah posts. There are chilies in great big beautiful wreaths. There are dry chilies and fresh chilies. And there are chili everything else, from earrings and ornaments to every sort of sauce imaginable.

What divine irony. All those

fancypants designer retail stores could not thrill me. Now the humble chili vendors with their huge wreaths of fresh chilis have me hot with lust to own. And I am not able to buy. Well, I could, but I could never bring them home.

So I loiter and swoon and yearn.

Old Albuquerque also has a lineup of Native

American craftspeople sitting in the shade of a cloistered walkway with their creations. More wonderful turquoise. The longer one is in New Mexico, the more one seems to come to love that stone. The Native American artisans certainly do. They find character in every stone. And it is important to them whence each stone comes. There are many mines.

The little town square also brags a glorious old mission-style church. Lots of tourists are coming and going in group tours. A band is setting up for a concert in the rotunda. It is quite a happening place, in a low-key gentle way.

We find a marvellous Mexican restaurant and settle down for lunch at

a sidewalk table. I have a salad in a big taco shell thingie. I am not an aficionado of Mexican food. In fact I never liked it. Bruce long has said that New Mexico and Arizona would change this - and it has. My Mexican salad lunch is fantastic, albeit way more than one could eat.

We drive around Albuquerque some more to get a sense of the city as a whole and then, with a nudge from Siri Google, find the old Route 66 and hit the travelling road again.

Las Cruces, here we come.