The Psychedelic Adventures of Señor Huevos Rancheros and his gal Gabriella

We knew it would happen, friends. There was always going to be some lesser known destination that blew us away.

Santa Fe was that spot.

First of all, check out my workspace at our Air BnB.

Now look at the legitimately New Mexican homes in the area.

Is it already charming the pants off of you? It should be.

Santa Fe is a hip little city with tremendous flavor. There’s art and great food everywhere you look, the Pueblo Revival architecture is captivating, and the best part of it all is the fact that tacky capitalism has done very little to compromise any of it, at least in the downtown area.

Now, I generally try to avoid being that dude. The one who learned one dark and lonely night on YouTube that all the ills of society can be blamed on the greed of a few massive companies and has to blather incessantly on about it to anyone within shouting distance at all times.

“It’s the corporations maaan, profit over people. Capitalist vampires drinking our blooddd.”

But I mean, come on. It’s the corporations, man, profit over people. Capitalist vampires drinking our blood.

I’d been noticing a pattern all throughout our journey: a vast majority of America’s more densely populated areas are bereft of culture and consumed by franchises and name brands and quasi-monopoly warehouse stores. I know this is not a groundbreaking new concept. In fact it’s sort of obvious to mention, trite even, but to travel all these thousands of miles and really see it for myself was something different. It became firsthand knowledge, and it feels pretty gross.  

The trip into downtown Santa Fe, however, showed me that not all is lost. I’m almost positive there isn’t a single big franchise or corporation with its grubby, greedy, slimy, little fingers on the place. It’s all beautiful buildings with unique wares and charming style befitting of the southwest culture.

There’s a square with musicians playing and artists painting and food carts wafting incredible aromas.

Everyone who it came through seemed to walk a little slower and smile a little more.

There was an interesting young cat at the Santa Fe Olive Oil Company who knew everything about the area and who was happy to describe to us in great detail the finer parts of his humble city. A proud New Mexican.

We wandered about for a while that day, shopping for cool knick-knacks and spending too much money. At least we knew none of it was going to those greedy big wig corporate fat cat robber barons. Instead it went to support and maintain what we found to be one of the most beautiful, unheralded little spots we’d ever been.

Oh, also: Meow Wolf.

I’ve talked big about a lot of the stops on this trip. It’s all been mostly fantastic, but I don’t think there was a spot this side of Yellowstone that I can say blew our minds more than Meow Wolf.

What is it, you ask? I…I don’t honestly know. In as few words as possible I think I’d call it an interactive psychedelic art exhibit. That’s at least a decent clinical description, but it really falls short of elucidating the wonder of this magnificent…thing.

 In it’s current state, the House of Eternal Return, it’s a nearly functional two-story home with family photos on the wall, a real fish tank, and a fireplace that’s also a portal into a realm of psychedelic colors and mad geometrical structures and atom-splitting creativity.

 The dryer warps you into a kingdom of lost socks.

There’s a dinosaur skeleton xylophone.

A neon scuba diver forest.

There’s an actual secret door disguised as a bookshelf.

There’s a bar that serves wild cocktails with edible eyeballs and homemade cotton candy in them.

It’s also a music venue that hosts cool bands in its hallucinogenic confines.

 Meow Wolf. Go to Meow Wolf.

 We had a great brunch the day we left at a pretty famous spot called Tecolote. I’d never had huevos rancheros until then. I had mine with both red and green chile sauce. Christmas style. Now they call me Señor Huevos Rancheros. No they don’t. The food was fantastic.

Santa Fe, we were sorry to leave but grateful to have come. Our next big destination was Austin, Texas but the drive out there was a little longer than we were willing to tackle in a single day. We hit the road pointed in the right direction and started looking into midway points in good old, strange old, west Texas.