The Quarai Ruins

The sky was corn blue, and fluffy white clouds dotted the pretty sky and horizon. An occasional breeze swept past, cooling the back of my neck where sweat was beginning to run down in rivulets because of the heat. Yet it was cooler here, in this part of New Mexico, where my mother and I had decided to visit this hot June day.

We stepped from the car, walking the dirt and stone trail that led to the ruins, which we could see over the surprisingly green vegetation. The red adobe brick stood out brightly, and drew us
in, I could feel myself brimming with excitement. After all, this is part of why I am so proud to be a New Mexican, this wonderful history which surrounds me at every turn.



We had decided to come here to the Quarai Ruins (pronounced Kwai- Rye) partially because is was an easy drive from Albuquerque, and partly because the road home would lead us through the Manzano Mountains, which we wanted to photograph. Located in Punta del Agua, Quarai is part of the Salinas Pueblo Missions National Monument.

In 1628 Quarai was a thriving community of American Indian trade when the Spaniard Franciscans arrived in an effort to convert the natives and establish a self-sufficient community. Artifacts from todays ruins suggest the original inhabitants had been living there almost 400 years before the arrival of the Spanish. A large stone Mission, or church, was built and much of it still remains today to be viewed by lucky tourists like myself.



There were few people visiting the ruins when we came by. It was peaceful and lovely, bringing images to mind of what it must have been like as a bustling community so many years ago.




What remains of the ruins are low walls (high enough to stand over your head, but no longer with roofs on them as they once may have had) and trails, an occasional window and the high walls of the mission.



This made me want to go home and do something like this in my garden, bustling with wildflowers and sage it would be lovely.


Natural vegetation creates a feeling of paradise at Quarai.





Can't you image what this place once looked like with the locals living here hundreds of years ago?





If I were to to this again, I would bring a sack or picnic lunch, and more cool drinks, as there were no cafes or snack stands. We became rather hungry all of the sudden and had to leave to find refreshments, though we would have enjoyed a longer stay. However, it was a wonderful afternoon, full of sights and history, good memories and more. Well worth repeating.

Taos

Friday, June 25, 2004

What a pretty drive! We drove up through Santa Fe, Española, along the Rio Grande Gorge and into Taos. Brian was sweet enough to take me to the Gorge itself so I could marvel and take photos. I haven't had time to get them all ready to post, so there'll be more on Monday. These are what I have for now:

The last photo is of the Rio Grande Gorge. A vital part of the states culture, history, and livelihood. Yet the river is endangered. The droughts have depleted her waters so low that we are in danger of losing her altogether, reports have said. There is a major battle between environmentalists, New Mexican citizens, and New Mexican farmers over water.

Chili Ristas hang from a shop along the main street of Taos. Red chilis are strung and dried, making for festive decoration.

Mural outside Taos gift shop. Reminiscent of art found on Native American pottery.

The Rio Grande Gorge. The river runs from into New Mexico, Texas and Mexico where it empties into The Gulf of Mexico.

The Sandia Mountains

Wednesday, June 23, 2004

The first photo here is the Sandia Mountains as seen from the east, coming from Moriarty. The plains stretch wide and flat, little to see except an occasional cactus, piñon tree, or perhaps a barbed wire fence. The setting sun colors the mountains a deep blue. In less than an hour it will be nearly purple, with the sky bright and wild with the colors of a New Mexico sunset.

This next photo is a stream in the Sandia Mountains. We drove up the backside from Placitas, a small community on the Northeast side of the mountain. Even during the hard drought, the stream still danced down the rocky terrain and gave life to the forest around her. We glimpsed rabbits and dear this day, but none of them wanted to hang around long enough for a picture. :)

Backroads

I grew up in New Mexico, and I spent many a day playing in the mesas, the arroyos, (where I would never let me child play in now) along the foothills of the Sandia Mountains, and building forts underneath sprawling Piñon Trees. It was not a unusual experience for me, and it did not occur to me that anyone else might have grown up differently. I knew that in other places they had many more trees, and a great deal m ore water, but I didn't know how unique my experiences of growing up in such a different culture really was until I moved to North Carolina at 13 years old.

There my friends asked me if I had to have a passport to move to the U.S., complimented me on my fine grasp of the English language. They had never heard of Piñons, or green chili or pueblos. They'd never been in a Kiva or seen a Navajo. They thought my poncho was a rug. When I brought beans, tortillas and jalepeños to school for lunch. they were disgusted. I didn't know that many of the words I used for the things in my life were Spanish or Native American in origin.

When I had children of my own and I was living in Florida, I wanted so badly for them to have a taste of my childhood. I wanted them to see the Balloon Fiesta, hold a Horned Toad, help me light Luminarios for Christmas, and see the wide expanses of beautiful acreage you can only find in New Mexico. They've both lived with me here now for close to 12 years, and they love it here. I know where ever they might move, they'll always have a piece of this in their heart to keep close.

We're still part of the United States here, but a little different from the one you might find just anywhere. It's off the beaten track, a sweet spot on the back roads of America, and I am lucky to be here.