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The AAA Companion

Feature Story

Quiet Time in Santa Fe
Off-season provides a peek at the local spirit of this cultural oasis.

Sunlight and shadow create art on the adobe walls of Santa Fe.

Story and photos by Eric Lindberg

Think Santa Fe, and a kaleidoscope of images comes to mind: sun-bleached adobe churches under a turquoise sky, blue-corn enchiladas drenched in green chile, and acres of art objects costing more than a new car. The city deserves its reputation as one of the West's most atmospheric, “wish I lived here” destinations.

But popularity comes with a price, and during high season Santa Fe approaches gridlock. Tourists from around the world jostle elbow-to-elbow as they eat, drink and shop their way along streets used for centuries before the first automobile rolled through town. While Santa Fe's charms are impossible to miss even during peak times, they are often muted by clamoring crowds eager to sample them.

Ten years ago, I, too, was smitten with this high-desert cultural oasis. A decade of visits has revealed a spirit as spicy and full-flavored as the region's fiery, chili-based cuisine. These days I skip spring, summer and early autumn, opting instead for the quieter periods between the fall festivals and Christmas, and again from January though mid-March.

Sure, it's too cold for shorts and sandals, and skiers sometimes fill the restaurants and bars after a day on the slopes. But the pace is slower, the lines shorter, and the city feels more like a small town. Visiting in the off-season unveils a community often buried by the chaos of busier months.

As the sun peeks over the Sangre de Cristo Mountains on my first morning, I share the empty downtown streets with a few slow-moving joggers. My destination is the communal table at Café Pasquale, where locals and tourists meet over some of the most delightful breakfasts in town. During high season there's often a line out the door, but today I'm seated immediately at the big round table.

Next to me, Inez, a performing arts professor at the college, recommends the smoked trout hash and hot Mexican chocolate. She's a relative newcomer here.

“Six years ago I traded my life in Manhattan for Santa Fe, hoping to find a slower pace and fewer people. It wasn't easy at first; this town either accepts you or it spits you out. But I hung on, and I'm convinced it was the right thing to do.”

A 20-minute drive from the café brings me to Museum Hill, where Native American culture and New Mexico's Spanish colonial past come alive in several new museums. The complex is worth an entire day, but even a couple of hours spent wandering among the centuries-old art and relics illustrate how the area evolved into the cultural crossroads that it is today.

As much as I enjoy the collections, I am drawn outdoors to the café patio and the tranquility of this quiet, sage-scented mesa at the edge of the city. It's a perfect place for sipping tea and gazing past the pale adobe buildings to the dark foothills crouched beneath an electric blue sky. Colors like these have seduced artists for almost a century.

The artisans keep coming, and the town has evolved into a legendary art mecca. These days the place to be on Friday evenings is Canyon Road , where gallery receptions display stunning art that even museums can't afford. But it costs nothing to browse, and there's no better place to rub shoulders with the town's art community. Artists scope the competition, singles cruise, and patrons mingle and gossip. Black leather, linen and silk, tie-dye—anything goes in the Friday night parade along Canyon Road.

Lisette De La Paz, with flaming red scarf and black harem pants flapping in the breeze, is an exotic vision as she bicycles up the narrow road. Agreeing to pose for a photo, she offers a suggestion. “Go to the gallery at 722; they're serving wine and cheesecake.” When I catch up with her later, she hands me a glass of Pinot Grigio.

“I never miss Friday nights on Canyon. Artists, poets, musicians, everyone comes out, and you never know who's going to show up.” Lisette switches between Spanish, Italian and English as she greets friends. “I've been here almost 10 years, and I never get bored. You want to know a fun place? Try El Farol!”

Housed in a thick-walled 1835 adobe on Canyon Road , El Farol is the oldest bar in the city. Inside, people crowd into the small dining room for the tasty paella, tapas and Wednesday night flamenco dancing. I'm two nights late for flamenco, but in the adjoining bar a blues band belts out a steamy Delta ballad as couples sway cheek-to-cheek across the wood plank floor.

As dinner winds down and the action shifts from restaurant to bar, chef James Caruso emerges from the kitchen. “We get bikers, heiresses and cowboys in here. This time of year it's mostly locals. Sooner or later, most of the town drops by.”

On Saturday morning I try James' suggestion and follow the stream of cars to the Guadalupe district a few blocks from downtown. From Dubuque to Dubrovnik, in communities around the world, outdoor markets offer a taste of local life, and Santa Fe's year-round farmers' market is no exception.

Harvest time is over, and the air oozes the smoky aroma of roasting chilis. Shoppers peruse lavender bouquets, wild honey, chili ristras (strings of red chilis), crisp apples, piñon nuts and dozens of other homegrown items.

The market buzzes like a neighborhood party. The man roasting chilis greets people by name. A beekeeper passes out honey samples. Annie Rose the Flower Fairy—radiant in angel wings, halo and a dazzling smile—paints children's faces.

I grab a breakfast burrito and roam the aisles, chatting with corn husk artists and apple growers. By the time I leave with my chili wreath and jar of salsa, it's almost noon.

A block west of the market, dozens of sleek, low-slung cars turn heads as they glide into a gravel parking lot at Warehouse 21 for a lowrider car show. Gleaming under as many as seven layers of paint and styled with velvet interiors, they sparkle in the desert sun. Art on wheels, these cars are a proud expression of Hispanic culture, and as much a part of Santa Fe as the upscale galleries on Canyon Road.

A mixed crowd wanders the lot, marking ballots for their favorite cars. Inside, a Latino rock band kick-starts the afternoon with a sizzling Santana-style guitar and congas. Another band takes the stage and jumps into a rousing, accordion-fueled Mexican ranchera tune. Anglos and Hispanics bob and swing across the dance floor.

Between sets, the Frida Kahlo look-alike contest unfolds. When four raven-haired girls step onto the stage, each in the exotic Aztec-peasant style favored by the enigmatic Mexican painter, the audience yells and whistles, declaring them all winners.

I've been walking all morning, and it's time to refuel. Downtown Subscription, one of the city's favorite coffee houses, is another window into the community. Tucked into a cozy neighborhood just off Canyon Road, it attracts people for the excellent coffee, free refill, and the town's biggest selection of magazines and newspapers.

A friendly Santa Fean, J.D. Noble, invites me to share his table, and over Indian chai we discuss the almost spiritual pull many feel toward Santa Fe.

“People come here for the magic of the place, and some of us never leave. I was here four hours and knew I would stay. That was 16 years ago.”

I ask how residents cope with the annual invasion of tourists. “We do the same things tourists do, but we wait for the lull between peak seasons. The tourists don't bother me at all,” says Noble. “I'm rejuvenated every time I drive home from work and see what a beautiful place I live in.”

Even in the off-season, when the tourists return home, and cold winds blow down the arroyos and fill the air with the sweet incense of piñon smoke, Santa Fe continues to enchant both visitors and those lucky enough to live here. And it's not just the world-class art or the chili-infused cuisine.

There's something in the delicate light spilling across the piñon hillsides, and the amicable blending of cultures, and the bohemian spirit radiating from the galleries and cafés, that nourishes the souls of so many who stay a night, a year or a lifetime. But look a little deeper, past the sun-dried adobe churches, beyond the chili strands and turquoise jewelry and platters of fiery food, and you'll find the essence of Santa Fe, and the reason visitors keep coming back.

Eric Lindberg is a Lakewood-based travel writer/photographer with a passion for the Southwest. His website is www.ericlindberg.com.