Hotel Indigo No Go

Thursday, April 21, 2022

New Mexico, Arizona, Hall of Fame

Celebrated photographer H. Darr Beiser, Chalma River, NM


We have a friend, Donna, who moved from Virginia to Albuquerque a few years ago and boy does she make it look great on social media. She is a good photographer, and she’s been to just about every corner of the state thanks to her friend Ned, a retired professor/professional tour guide. It was like traveling with a living FAQ.We succumbed to the promotion. The tourism bureau should be paying her. 

The first night we had a fabulous dinner at Los Poblanos. As our friend said, “most of New Mexico is like a third world country, but at the restaurant you’ll feel like you’re in Europe.” Indeed. We enjoyed octopus tostados and carrot cavatelli with lemon chicken sausage, green chile cream, charred carrots and chicken-skin bread crumbs. We sat outside and were expecting a fiery Southwest sunset, but as it turns out, Albuquerque’s Sandia Mountains (watermelon) only “turn pink” and at that “only some nights.” It was not a pink night for us. Score one for Tucson in the race against Albuquerque. 



Darr and Ned stroll along the “acequia” (aka ditch), Abuquerque, NM

On the drive to Northern New Mexico we did what countless photographers and photo lovers have done—veered suddenly off the road to look for the location where Ansel Adams took the famous Moonrise Hernandez photograph. There's been a great deal of development since 1941, and the moon wasn’t out, but as Barney would exhort our children we "used our imaginations."

The winds were so strong on the drive that we had many near encounters with tumbling tumbleweeds, and the rental car thought Darr was drunk or tired because he was weaving so much. The car “said” ‘pull over and rest for a while.’ 

We had lunch at Rancho de Chimayo. It had all the hallmarks of a good Mexican food restaurant in a sprawling hacienda and our mouths were watering. The chips and guacamole were so good, but the true test came when I was served an over-battered chile relleno. I could have sued the chef for battery on this poor chile. 

Did you know New Mexico is the only state that has a state question? The question is “red or green?” Referring to your choice of chile with your meal. If you choose both they call it Christmas.

Santuario de Chimayo, Chimayo, NM

Santuario de Chimayo is an historic Catholic church that serves as a pilgrimage site.  Inside there is "Chimayo Holy Dirt" that is thought to possess healing powers. Apparently it works wonders.  There was a display of canes and crutches discarded after prayer. 

Kitchen Mesa, Ghost Ranch, NM

We then drove to the Ghost Ranch. This is 21,000 acres of amazement. There are two mesas, Kitchen Mesa and Orphan Mesa, and land, lots of land. There are cabins scattered around for guests,  an art center, a labyrinth, and small cottages for artist retreats. We had the place to ourselves which is always a staggering phenomenon of the Southwest. I'd try to describe the colors, but let's hear it from Georgia O'Keefe who lived there: "All the earth colors of the painter's palette are out there in the many miles of badlands. The Naples yellow through the ochres - orange and red and purple earth, even the soft earth greens."

Orphan Mesa, Ghost Ranch, NM
 
The New Mexico mountains are astounding. They look like aggressive bully rocks that emerged from the earth and said, “this is it, we’re staying.” Many of them have beautiful striations representing their glacial beginnings.  

The no-nonsense winds knocked out the power at our hotel, the Abiquiu Inn,  just when it was time for dinner. We had to drive into nearby Espanola for dinner at Mariscos La Playa. A simple translation of the restaurant's name should have told us to stay away. “Seafood at the beach.” I may not be strong in geography, but I am quite sure New Mexico has neither a beach nor seafood. It was the first time I’ve seen calamari presented as fish sticks. 

Pueblo Bonito, Chaco Canyon, NM

 


Pueblo Alto Complex, Chaco Canyon, NM

Our next destination was Chaco Canyon, so we parted from our hosts and went on a beautiful drive from Abiquiu. Small run down houses and trailers have views to die:  for the rugged, sandy, peachy mountains, with the dramatic mesa Pedernal in the distance. The entrance to Chaco is 13 miles of rugged dirt roads, but once you get there, this National Historic Park is well organized and astounding. This massive construction, built 1100 years ago was a cultural center and trading network for the Chacoan people.  Much of it remains in pristine condition. You can walk around the "Great Houses," (multi-story stone buildings) and into rooms, plazas and amphitheaters.  But anthropologists never found any evidence of long term habitation. It may have been used in religious ceremonies, as a trading center,  for turquoise and cacao from as far away as Mexico. It's spooky and cool.  The wind was so strong there that I finally understood the Irish prayer about the wind being at your back.

Horned furniture and Burt Lancaster



Lobby, El Rancho Hotel, Gallup NM

We stopped overnight in Gallup to break up the drive to Tucson. We booked a funky hotel called the Hotel El Rancho touted as the home of movie stars when they were filming in New Mexico. Well maybe so, but that was a long time ago and the faded photographs show and faded careers. The lobby is interesting but the rooms...We booked a king suite and they put us in the bridal suite, an inexplicable connection of two bedrooms, with a 1950’s kitchen in the middle, and only one bathroom. There were bottle openers nailed to the walls, and that was what was most important. The “balconies” looked onto an empty swimming  pool and Route 66. 

We had to make three stops before finding a restaurant that was open for dinner. The good people of Gallup can’t wait to gallup home. We arrived at two restaurants before their closing time, but they decided to close anyway. Panz Allegra (translation happy stomach) was open. Darr’s stomach was happy with his meal but mine was not. The chicken in my tacos seemed to have just come out of the freezer. 


Best Mexican food in NM, Gallup

Fourth Mexican restaurant in New Mexico was a charm. Breakfast at Gordo's Cafe. I ordered an omelet, and the waitress adorably asked me if it was okay that my meal did not include meat!  A question not posed at a vegan/vegetarian restaurant. Darr had chorizo and eggs, the red and the green (Christmas!) were plentiful and powerful. 

Then we left the Land of Enchantment for the Enchanting Land of Tucson and everything was set right food wise. Dinner at El Torero, divine, divinity, nectar of gods. Casa Molina for one lunch and Rosa’s for lunch. Tortillas from St. Mary’s. Two good non-Mexican meals: big salads at Noble Hops, and a big family lunch at Cafe a la C'Art,  the tortured name based on the restaurant's proximity to the Tucson Museum of Art. 

We stayed at The Doubletree Reid Park which was in top form. The orange trees were blooming, and the air was more fragrant than a Bloomingdales perfume counter. The weather was perfect, we used the pool and the hot tub, and breakfasted on our patio. It wasn’t hot and it wasn't crowded. Note to future guests, avoid room 118. It's right next to an iron gate that clangs loudly every time it opens and closes.  

Celebrating with sister Margie after Darr's Hall of Fame induction

The main event was Darr’s coronation, I mean inauguration, to the University of Arizona Journalism Department Hall of Fame.  The event was lovely with brunch outside and a well organized ceremony. Fitz, the cartoonist for the Arizona Daily Star, was the star of the show. He was like a stand-up comedian, but he also stood up for the First Amendment. We have known him since we were on the college newspaper. We formed lots of friendships in our 20s. And many of these friendships started at the University of Arizona, where journalism professors helped us find jobs, where we walked from class to class in warmth and sun. And here we were back on the campus that shaped our lives and determined our careers.

With David Fitzsimmons, fellow U of A alum, at HOF ceremony


Too, too, too. Two saguaros, Tumamoc Hill, Tucson


Tuesday, March 8, 2022

Travel Trifecta: Palm Springs, La Jolla, Bethany Beach


"Prickly oddity"


PS I'm not sure I love you

Palm Springs slogan


Leaving DC in February to go to California always seems like a good idea. Judy picked me up at LAX and we drove to Palm Springs. I had never been and was always curious about Palm Springs, a location that is both compared to and seems redundant to Tucson. I was ready to compare and contrast. Palm Springs features excellent winter weather and is in a desert nestled against the San Jacinto mountains. Judy described it as a “poor man’s Tucson.” It’s more like a rich man’s Tucson. But the problem is, it isn’t Tucson. If Tucson were a human body, Palm Springs would be like the thumbnail. 

Marilyn welcomes you to PS

The mountains are more “immediate” than those in Tucson unless you live in the foothills. And it’s only a two-hour drive for Hollywood types who swarmed it in the 30s and created rich enclaves like the Palm Springs Racquet Club. Imagine volleying with Humphrey and Clark. 

I ran in Palm Springs each morning, starting down the main drag, Palm Canyon Drive, not terribly interesting. But when I ran into the residential area you could easily mistake it for Beverly Hills East. Huge properties with huge hedges supported by large hedge funds. 

Mid-century modern




Hacienda

Palm Springs is full of glamourous people and top-notch restaurants, right? Um, that was not our experience. The first night we ate at a Mexican chain restaurant called Las Casuelas. Shame on us, I know. We agreed the tacos were the worst we had ever had. The second night the concierge steered us to Grand Central which had the atmosphere of a gas station and a welcoming plume of grease from the open kitchen. The restaurant even failed on French fries, and you know things are bad when the best part of the meal is the Brussels sprouts appetizer. 

There we met one of Judy’s dear artist friends who had moved to Palm Springs about a year ago. By coincidence she is from Tucson. She compared Palm Springs to Tucson unfavorably, to say the least. “There are no good restaurants here, no shopping, no men, and even the gay men aren’t that interesting.” She went on to describe a scene of poverty and meth addicts and people with teardrop tattoos. Plus, in 2020, Palm Springs had 151 days over 100 degrees. Compare this to Tucson's reasonable number of 108 days over 100 degrees. Seventy one days were over 110 degrees.  “You can’t even go outside when it’s like that,” she added.

But we were in Palm Springs during the opposite weather extreme. It was cold and one day it had the nerve to rain (average rainfall 5.2 inches a year). We stayed at the Kimpton Rowan Hotel, which was lovely, with a delightful outdoor breakfast cafe, and a rooftop pool. We had one good dinner at Il Corso on our last night. There were pieces of lobster in my pasta and Judy had cioppino, and they addressed us each as Madame. This was more like it. 

Dr. Seuss vegetation--Joshua tree

But the best part of this particular trip to Palm Springs was leaving Palm Springs! We took a field trip to Joshua Tree National Park which was more like an acid trip. These “trees” look like some sort of hybrid creature, like a centaur or a satyr. They seem half yucca, half palm tree. The NPS website compares them to something out of Dr. Seuss, but I prefer their term "prickly oddity." The snowfall in the park added to the mystery and the wonder and the clearing skies turned into something supernatural.



Big sky



La Jolla, California

Bird Rock, La Jolla


Midweek I drove down to La Jolla to meet Darr at the Beiser’s house. Darr was there to scan family photos and shoot succulents. There we had the added bonus of being joined by Joe Rhodes who had spent several weeks in LA and thought nothing of driving down to meet us in his Traipsemobile. Hey, we were in the same state, after all. 

With the one and only Joe Rhodes

Joe is value-added in any social situation and we had a great dinner at Beaumont’s Eatery and pastries from Wayfarer and walked down to the ocean, where the view “doesn’t suck." 

Any view will do in La Jolla


We also got to celebrate Jane’s 80th birthday with a family dinner at Mongolian Hot Pot. Call me a princess, but I would rather have someone else cook my food. Even though Laura was putting the cooked pieces of food in my bowl, like feeding a child. Afterwards, Jolene and Jitsujo told us what they had been served from the hotpot when they lived in China: intestines, beaks and baby birds. Time for the chocolate birthday cake! 

The CA Beisers: Jolene, Jane, Dean, Jitsujo, Lisa, Laura


Bethany Beach, Delaware 



Sunrise

Four days after I returned from California, I went with a friend to Sea Colony at Bethany Beach, Delaware to give equal time to the Atlantic Ocean. We had an oceanfront condo, and the sunrise delivered, dripping wet. We weren’t just there in off-season. We were there in off-off-season. The high was 38 the day we arrived. We were quite alone at the beach.


Sea Colony--732 oceanfront apartments

We were there primarily to take classes at the Sea Colony Tennis Center. We didn’t realize how booked up it would be, even off season. It seems there are many year-round residents in Bethany, possibly retired, who want to play tennis every day like I do. We made it into a couple of clinics, Live Ball and Cardio Tennis, and we loved the pro, and our fellow players. 

Jammie time sleepover


The rest of the time we did girlie things like have cheese and crackers for dinner, watch movies and put on facial masks. We had a nice dinner at Blue Coast Seafood Grill which was hopping at the traditional blue-hair hour of 5 p.m. I had blackened shrimp gumbo with grits and dotted with fried okra. 


In sum, I can report that both oceans are doing very well, that the desert is cold, and that the Joshua trees are cray-cray.


Succulents forever





Tuesday, January 4, 2022

Christmas in Tucson

We don't have snow, but we've got ho, ho, ho

We haven’t spent Christmas in Tucson in ages, but this time, just like a crime, we had desire, opportunity and a target. Our La Jolla/LA Beisers had decided to rent a house in Tucson, and then like lemmings, 12 other family members followed suit. Four from Omaha, four from Alameda, CA, and our four representing Bethesda, Brooklyn, and Berkeley. Suddenly we had a Beiser Bundle of 18 visitors joining the other 12 on the ground. 

Beiser bunch

I married into a big family, quite a treat for an only child, and I married into a fun family. And when they are all together, they laugh and laugh. In annus horribile 2020, we lost Frank Beiser who was the King of Family Fun. We had not all been together since he died, and we toasted him, and donned animal noses in his honor. He had sent animal noses for a Tucson Christmas in 1986 and this year we did it again with a whole new generation that keeps his spirit alive. 

Beaked Beiser

Family with noses, El Corral Steakhouse




Christmas Eve



Peter banging out Silent Night

Franky designed T-shirts for everyone


The family is disparate—vegetarians and vegans and game hunters, Gen Xers and Boomers, Buddhist priests and ranchers, artists and musicians, physical therapists and insurance guys. But put us all together and we have no differences, we are bonded and united. We can drink beer around a fire pit, play horseshoes, we can hike mountains, and we can meditate. 

Sunset at the Dolan's party

Tucson shines in December. We have been coming in spring and summer for so many years, I’d forgotten the little desert chill in the mornings that rapidly burns off with the sun. Jacket in the morning, t-shirt in the afternoon. 

Loved our hacienda


Boys took over cooking



We rented a large hacienda through VRBO in a transitional neighborhood called Jefferson Park. It was huge and beautiful, spacious, comfortable, and had a fully outfitted gourmet island kitchen. All praise to this rental—usually the photos make the property look bigger than it is, this house was bigger than the photos! The owners provided a Christmas tree and ornaments, and I brought stockings ensuring us an “I’ll Pretend I’m Home for Christmas” extravaganza. 


Finger Rock

Tucson is a land of contradictions. We have the beautiful and the ugly. In fact the drive in from the airport on the Benson Highway is enough to make you want to turn back. Ancient sad motels like The Owl  Lodge, the trailer parks, businesses out of business, and ruins. All glaringly exposed by the sun. But head north and east and you are in a land of astounding beauty. 


The Catalinas rock


Tucson is in a valley, surrounded by four mountain ranges, Catalinas, Rincons, Tucson mountains, and Santa Ritas. But the star of the show is the Catalinas, they make all the other mountain ranges look like side shows. The Catalinas are the big and bold J Zee and Beyonce of mountains, you can’t take your eyes off of them, they reign and they rule. And they are due north. Tucson is like living inside of a compass. You always know your direction, which is helpful to a space-challenged individual like myself. 


Sunrise from the hacienda balcony

Tucson has rich and poor, highs and lows, you can be sweltering on the desert floor, and while people are skiing on the nearby 9000 foot Mt. Lemmon. Tucson has droughts and flooding. Tucson has coyotes and kitty cats. Tucson has magnificent sunsets whose brilliant coral and salmon and tangerine colors relieve the day of its earth tones. Tucson sunrises make every day look full of hope. And Tucson after dark turns into a public observatory where you can see every star. 

Many would say Tucson has the best winter weather, no rain to ruin your plans, no clouds to dampen your spirits. Average high in January, 66 degrees;  in February, 70 degrees. Tucson weather is like cooking bacon, it starts out crisp in the winter, gets crispy in the spring, crispiest in the summer, and if you aren’t careful it burns in June. There are two ways to beat the Tucson heat. You can leave. You can stay inside. Really what’s so different about that than a New England winter? 

Saguaro cacti Pima Canyon


Then there are those forests of saguaro cacti that you will find nowhere outside of the Sonoran desert. When I used to work for the Tucson Film Commission, producers from New York would call and say “Is that where there are those cactus that look like telephone poles?” 

We hiked Pima Canyon, pretty easy and beautiful with shade and trees and water. We climbed Tumamoc Hill on Christmas day, a steady rise that makes you feel like you worked out even though it’s only 3 miles round trip; Sabino Canyon—we struck out onto the unpaved side of the canyon, the Phone Line Trail. Darr and I also hiked the Finger Rock Trail for a little closer look at the finger. I have decided that I am fine with hiking until it gets either 1) too hard, or 2) too scary, and both of these things tend to happen, oddly, the farther you walk up. I am not one for narrow ledges and sharp precipices. But my boys are like goats, their legs constitute more than half of their bodies. 

Tumamoc Hill


Tortilla break in Sabino Canyon

Tucson has the best Mexican food in the country.  Franky held up a flour tortilla and mused, “why can you only get these here…why is this only place that gets these right?” Indeed, we had to buy dozens of flour tortillas because they are thin and floury, with just enough salt, and, of course, what food isn’t enhanced by lard? Eating salsa and chips in Tucson activates some sort of pleasure center in my brain. It’s as if the peppers burn and scrape out the toxins and confer a feeling of well-being. Hit all of our favorites: Micha’s (thrice), El Minuto, white cheese tostada continues to dominate the “cheese crisp” race; Crossroads (only because Micha's was closed, but good!), and the big surprise because it was always on our B-list, Casa Molina, which the boys declared numero uno in salsa and tortillas. We had eliminated Rosa’s after a bad experience in July, but who doesn’t deserve a second chance, and it earned back our love. Vegan favorites, I can’t believe I am saying this but on behalf of the healthy sons, we sought these out; Tanias 33 (zero atmosphere but great burros), Tumerico all vegan the real deal; and Zemam’s Too, great Ethiopian. We had non-Mex food at Prep and Pastry (new to us), Blue Willow (been there forever) and Ghini’s French Caffe, At Presta Coffee at the Mercado San Augustin I had a “campfire latte” (maple syrup, smoked sea salt, cayenne pepper, chipotle, nutmeg and cinnamon) which burned my mouth, to my delight. 

Tucson "garden"

I’ve had an up and down relationship with Tucson. Growing up there I came to hate all the boring predictably good weather, I preferred beach to desert, rain and snow to drought. I couldn’t wait to leave in my 20’s. But I always feel myself pulled back like the magnetic wand on a Wooly Willy toy. And on our last night, on New Year’s Eve itself, Tucson cosmically wowed us all with a double rainbow. As if to say, “Hey, don’t you love me now?”

Tucson: Take that!


Thursday, September 30, 2021

Bar Harbor-Barred No More

Spruce Harbor Chalet-Frenchman Bay

Last summer, due to COVID, my beloved state of Maine wouldn’t have us. But this year the lobsters were awaiting us with open claws. 


Skipping stones at Bar Island


We started our planning late and as a result, could only find a Bar Harbor waterfront cottage for five nights. But then we got a big bonus. Our son Franky, who lives in Berkeley, was starting his one month ‘fire season vacation’ on the very day of our arrival and met us at the airport in Bangor. What a gift. He’s an artist, a hiker, an outdoorsman, a swimmer, a reader, a cinephile, a spiritual seeker, and a card. He made me laugh so hard I was bent over in pain. 

Are we at the top yet? North Ridge Trail


I had heard that Mika Brzezinski, who is broadcasting Morning Joe from Bar Harbor this summer, runs up Cadillac Mountain every day after the show. I thought I would emulate Mika, but I would walk instead of run. I envisioned walking up Cadillac Summit Road which gently winds up to the 1522-foot summit. But Darr and Franky envisioned something else—hiking (a harder variant of walking) the North Ridge Trail to the summit which involved steep inclines, ankle rolling on rocks, and quite a bit of panting. We didn’t make it quite to the top, but close enough to feel accomplished. This 4.4-mile round trip took close to three hours, and had slyly been marked “difficult” in one part of the guide book and misleadingly “moderate” in another. 

 Wonderland Trail 


The next day we spent on the “quiet side” of the island in Southwest Harbor where we took easier hikes on the Wonderland Trail and the Ship Harbor Trail. The scenic payoffs of these trails equaled or surpassed those on Cadillac Mountain. Here, after walking through the fir-lined forests, we were treated to beautiful pink granite rocks, views of the ocean to infinity, cool ocean breezes from our pink promontories, and the ultimate reward afterwards—lobster rolls on the dock at Thurston for Lobster. 


Harvest Moon Shore Path

We were lucky enough to be in Bar Harbor during the full Harvest moon which we saw from the Shore Path. Terrifying in its immensity and illumination, shiny and other worldly, soothing and reassuring. The creatures of the deep could get no rest that night. 


Lobsters at home

Between the three of us we had lobster in six forms: lobster roll, lobster stew, lobster melt, lobster Caesar salad, steamed lobster, and a lobster made up of blueberry syrup to accompany cheesecake. We had clam chowder, we had fried clams, we never had ‘steamahs.’ The cottage user’s guide encouraged us to have a dinner of mussels that we could pick off the rocks of our very own shoreline. We never did, it seemed too arduous for a vacation. So I have no mussel memory. 


Sunrise from the cottage

Our house was a simple rustic A-frame with a broad deck and a sweeping view 50 feet above Frenchman Bay. There were 67 steps down to the shore. The bedrooms were tiny, but it was cozy and well stocked and perfectly located, only 6 minutes to Acadia National Park and 10 minutes to Bar Harbor. There we had great dinners at Gayln’s and the West Street Café. We had fairly good dinners at the Chart Room and the Black Friar Inn and Pub. MDI Ice Cream is still the best. Lunch is good at the Side Street Café, and by all means have the popovers at Jordan Pond House. Air has never tasted so good.  



It's not cold, it's bracing

If there is anything I am proud of as a mother it is our early introduction of the boys to lobsters and to Sonoran Mexican food, both of which they have embraced in a tight hug. But during summers in Maine I also introduced them to the benefits of the cold waters of the Atlantic Ocean. Franky took the note and ran with it. One morning he sneaked down the 67 stairs and had a bracing swim in the Bay. Another day he and I spent some time at Sand Beach and enjoyed the thrilling aftermath of a Maine dip. Franky swam, went underwater with his feet straight up dolphin-like, and came out discussing his oneness with 71% of the Earth’s surface. The water temperature was 56 degrees. So refreshing, life affirming, salty, healing. I know, most of you will just have to take my word for it. The cottage “user’s guide” advised us that “most people do not swim in salt water without wet suits.” Bwah! 


Camden State Park

We took a little day trip to Camden, a perfect picture postcard of a place. We had a delightful lunch at the Camden Deli and left with a whole Maine blueberry pie which we endeavored to consume in the next two days. Let the teeth whitening begin. Franky was impressed by the fact that a place as beautiful as Camden was such a short drive from the stunningly beautiful Bar Harbor. I think he was catching onto the full concentration of beauty that is Maine’s rocky coastline. It’s not like being in Tucson where you have to drive 6 hours to find the next beautiful place, Sedona. (Sorry Phoenix, Glendale, Prescott. Sorry, not sorry.) 

Skylight in the bedroom

But Maine is like that. Just when you’ve been awed by Kennebunkport you find out there’s Booth Bay Harbor, just when you’ve been dazzled by Ogunquit you find Biddeford Pool, just when you’ve ferried to Vinalhaven, you discover Chebeague Island. And so on. We are so lucky to have the state of Maine, and I hope Maine feels the same way about having us.

A Maine moment