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| Exploring my state Photo by Kathleen Radtke-Fitzpatrick |
I usually snuggle up in Southern Arizona like a rattlesnake hiding in a garage in the winter, and stay right there.
We Tucsonans have a great deal of snobbery about the rest of the state, we denigrate Phoenix, and hate our rivals the Sun Devils at Arizona State University; and as for Flagstaff, well, we just thought Northern Arizona University was a college for lumberjacks.
But last month I slithered though the state from top to bottom and liked what I saw.
Flagstaff
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| Flagstaff |
Flagstaff is not prickly like the rest of the state. It is soft. It is leafy and green and forested. It is the place Southern Arizonans go to get out of the Arizona heat. There are beautiful mountain ranges, San Francisco and Humphrey's Peak and sunsets that illuminate them just as brightly as in those in Tucson, and are hiking trails galore. Flagstaff also offers proximity to spirit-laden Sedona, and the mind-blowing Grand Canyon.
Flagstaff’s primary attraction is its cool weather, the elevation is 6909 feet. I was warned not to run in this thin air. I should have been warned not to walk, because I immediately got lost on the trails in the
Coconino Forest behind our house, which were as close as the tip of your cowboy boot.
Non compass mentis, my eternal failing.
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| Writers Workshop (L to R) Kathleen, Fran, Margo Jacki, Holly |
I was in Flagstaff for the
Colton House Writers’ Workshop. My classmates were three magnificent women working on first person pieces. Our instructor was Jacki Lyden, a longtime National Public Radio host, and author of the brilliant
Daughter of the Queen of Sheba. After I read it, I knew that Jacki knew a lot about writing a memoir.
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| Wupatki pueblo |
One morning as an “observation” exercise, we went to
Wapatki National Monument to see the sunrise. My first observation was that everyone looked tired. But when the sun came up, so did our spirits and our energy levels. Imagine being alone in a pueblo that was built 900 years ago. The morning started out very cold. but quickly became toasty and golden like the silence. We seemed to have the entire 35,000 acres to ourselves.
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| Greeting the dawn at the pueblo. Photo by Kathleen Radtke-Fitzpatrick |
We then had a hearty breakfast at the restaurant at the
Cameron Trading Post, built in 1911. My kind of menu, Eggs Benedict Mexicano, and fry bread with honey for dessert. We enjoyed our post-prandial stupor in the adjoining gift shop that has everything from Kachina dolls to Imodium.
My classmates:
Kathleen is the kind of woman who survived a near fatal rafting accident on the Colorado River in the Grand Canyon and then went back the next week to do it again. She leads camping trips, she loves hiking, she is an excellent photographer. Fran is writing about her days in Nepal. She went to develop a photography portfolio, but ended up marrying, having children, and owning/managing the Nepal International Clinic. Holly is a mother of an adult disabled son and a cancer survivor heroically managing the challenges. She tells her story with a light heartedness that makes us admire her even more.
Kathleen cooked dinner for us nearly every night, because she is competent and capable, but one night we went out to eat at
Fat Olives, which features very good pizzas including one named Miss Piggy. I am just not sure “fat” should be used in be the title of a restaurant.
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| Ofrenda--Sedona |
On our last day we drove to
Tlaquepaque in magical
Sedona where there were Day of the Dead celebrations, amazing costumes and decorations, and ofrendas, or shrines. We had a great Mexican dinner at
Oaxaca Restaurant in an outdoor patio with a stupendous view. I’ve always thought Sedona was too beautiful for words, which helps me understand the local fascination with vortexes, crystals, and woo woo. There's got to be something a little special “going on” there.
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| My spirit animal. Photo by Kathleen Radtke-Fitzgerald |
Phoenix
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| Clouds, clouds, come and stay. |
Phoenix is usually too brash, too bright, too shiny, too glaring, too overbuilt for me to enjoy. But on my recent stay, Phoenix had the dimmer switch on. Judy and I spent three nights at the
Biltmore Resort and delighted in moody clouds, cool breezes, and partial sunlight.
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| Cool by the pool |
I learned that a toned down, temperate Phoenix can be quite nice. I had beautiful morning excursions on the
Arizona Canal Trail. And each day we cocooned ourselves in the luxury of the Frank Lloyd Wright- inspired Biltmore Hotel, which opened in 1929. The colors of warmth- beige, brown and sandstone, modern design, a turquoise bar, six pools, and a spa. We decided on the "adults only" Saguaro Pool and stuck to the deck as hard as a prickly pear spine sticks to your skin. It was not as erotic as it sounds but it beat having to look at the monstrous Twist Waterslide at the Paradise Pool.
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| Wright must be rolling |
There was a bit of post-COVID inflation at the Biltmore. Two bottles of water, two coffees, and two bottles of orange juice cost $45. A movie rental cost $27.99. One slice of carrot cake $25.
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Arizona Canal Trail
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Judy and I always experience a bit of magic dust on our trips. We were at the valet station to schedule a Lyft to a local restaurant. An older man who was breaking a $100 bill, heard we were going to
The Gladly restaurant and said “I would be glad to take you. He looked avuncular and kind. I said “Who are you and how do we know we can trust you?” Judy said, “Or how do you know that you can trust us?” When we got in the car and saw that his radio was tuned to the Springsteen interview on the Howard Stern channel, I felt at ease. He drove us the short distance and was lovely and mannerly. His last name was Grace. Judy asked him if his wife’s name was Grace Grace.
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| This Biltmore elevator also goes up |
The next night we had dinner at the lowly, but highly-recommended Mexican restaurant, the
Tee Pee. The food was good, the salsa was hot, but when I asked for a dozen flour tortillas, the waiter brought me one. On the way back the Lyft driver, Arthur, who was from LA and bonded with Judy quickly. He reminded her about the $1 billion Powerball lottery which was ending in 30 minutes. She had been worried about getting a ticket. Her gambling partner in crime was in Yellowstone and couldn’t find a store that had any inkling of what she was talking about. Going the extra mile without having to go an extra mile, Arthur stopped at a 7-11 so Judy could score. He was rewarded with a ticket.
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| "Saguaro Forms and Cactus Flowers" by Frank Lloyd Wright |
Tucson
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| Tucson |
We were in Tucson for Darr’s 50th high school reunion. He’s been friends with some of his classmates since elementary school By the time you reach the 50th reunion you can afford a better venue than a windowless hotel ballroom. The
Salpointe Catholic High School reunion was held at the lovely
Tucson Botanical Garden. Darr was roped into doing what he does best—taking the group photograph. To do so he had to perch in a perilous position on an 8-foot ladder. I served as the spotter and holder.
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| Salpointe High School Reunion |
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| Woman-Ochre, U of A Art Museum |
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| Darr and his sisters (L to R) Jane Dolan, and Margie Wingfield, Rio Rico |
And we were there during the
Tucson Meet Yourself festival, which was only a tiny affair when I worked at City Hall in the 70s, with a few booths with fry bread, and local folksinger “Big Jim” Griffith. Now "Eat Yourself, " as we always called it, has turned into a sprawling street fair taking up several city blocks and offering four stages of live music, and hundreds of cuisines.
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| Big Jim Memory Tent - Tucson Meet Yourself |
I always hammer on the same restaurants in this blog. But we were disappointed at two of our favorites
Micha’s (wet taco shells), and
El Minuto (service).
Rosa’s and
El Torrero (with its delightful new menu) still rock, and a dozen warm flour tortillas from
Anita Street Market stole the show.
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| Tumamoc Hill |
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