Enchantment Rearing It’s Ugly Head.

In our never-ending (read…soon to be ending, because we do have to go home at some point)  attempt at finding the New Mexican Enchantment, we head to the Taos Ski Valley. We have not done a lot of hiking at all this trip. Which is bull shit. I am especially disappointed because I really do LOVE to hike and there are so many great hikes out here.  Also very disappointing is the fact that everyone else in this family does not share my love of hiking and has taken it as a personal victory that they have not had to drag ass up any mountains on any ill-fated missions led by yours truly.  They are kind of starting to gloat a little bit even, and I need to put an end to that. So, just to piss them all off, I attempt to find a suitable (read… hopefully strenuous) hike. And sadly, most of what I come across are like all day, crazy ass adventures, and I do not have that kind of time/patience/ resolve needed to deal with something like that. I finally stumble across a short, little, moderate 3.5 mile hike, that will have to do. Easy Peasy, right?  Spoiler alert: It was not Easy or Peasy (whatever the hell Peasy even means…if it is even a word at all…which I am thinking it is not…who makes this stuff up and how does it stand the test of time??). Well to clarify,  the short, little, moderate hike that I intended on embarking on might have been Easy and possibly Peasy, but per usual I did not pay a whole lot of attention to the deets of said hike (i.e. starting and ending points) and we took off from the wrong place, thus engaging in a totally different hike. One that was a disaster.  As soon as we hit the trail, I knew we were in big trouble. There was barely a recognizable path and almost immediately we were walking at a 67 degree angle straight up a friggin mountain (that 67 degrees is an approximation of course, I did not have a protractor or whatever kind of instrument that one might use to measure this sort of thing. I base that 67 degrees solely on the info I have stored in my brain, which although that is usually a handicap in the present, back in the day that thing did land me and A in honors geometry in 9th grade and I’m sure some of that info is still stored in there. Shocking, I know; at one point I was kind of smart. Sorry most of you missed it.)  We soldier on up the New Mexican equivalent to Mount Everest and once again we are alluded by any Enchantment. Or maybe this is Enchantment, but due possibly in part to our respiratory distress and fatigue, I am not totally sold on that concept.

Pictured: DJ taking one of his 17 water breaks
Not pictured: his thousands of tears, his complaints of altitude sickness and his constant tear and resentment filled musings of: “what is wrong with Mom?? She just makes us do whatever she wants to do, whether we like it or not.” Sidenote: although at the time it was pissing me off, I’m happy he is finally learning how things in this family work. Now if only he would start embracing it more 🙂

This stuff always amazes me. We have hiked no shit, at least 2 miles straight up a hill and stumble upon this.  What the hizzell  is this machinery and how the hizzell did it get up here??

The farther north we travel up the mountain, the farther South dip the attitudes and overall happiness in our group. Even I start to think that maybe we should turn back. We have been hiking up for a long, long, long time.  But remember, at this point I don’t really know that we started from the wrong place and that we are in fact lost. I do have my suspicions. But also remember I have really stupid, out of touch suspicions like that Johnny Depp lookalike child molester dude from the last post who was just a (albeit creepy as shit, and still a possible child molester as far as I’m concerned) loving dad. So I can’t listen to those voices in my head. Well, except for that one that is singing Britney Spears and a little Carly Rae Jepsen that is keeping me pumped up and moving, I like that voice. But, also we don’t have too much water left. “We should definitely turn back”, I hear in my head. Followed quickly by “it’s hard to look right, at you baby, but here’s my number, so call me, maybe?” So clouded in there. But if we turn back, then these assholes (aka, my loving children and husband) win, and we certainly can’t let that happen. Also, really, in my defense  with every step we took and as we turned every corner, I was positive we would level out and we would arrive at our intended destination which at this point I cannot even remember what we are trying to see…possibly some dumb ass lake or tree or something? Shit, they win…back down the mountain we head.

After that calamity of a hike, we are in desperate need of beer and food (well, no beer for the kids, obviously; come on, even I have my limits). My Winston-Salem friend and Taos expert Kimberly had suggested that while in Taos Ski Valley we patronize Tim’s Stray Dog Cantina. Cantina= beer; so sign me up. We search the little village area and come across the Stray Dog Cantina(no mention of Tim), must be the same place right?? Well, yes it is, but, it is now called only the Stray Dog Cantina because apparently Tim got killed in an avalanche.  (Yikes)  No disrespect meant and definitely RIP Tim, but that right there is case in point on why I will never be a Winter explorer/thrill seeker/black diamond skier. I do not want to die in an avalanche. Bear attack? Sure.  Avalanche? Hell no.

Poor Tim.

After eating and drinking in the Ski Valley, we head back to town and we are in big time luck because  on our last night in Taos we will to be able to experience  a little Festivus in the town square (or maybe it was called festiva. What the hell do I know? I took Italian and Latin in high school and college; and for those of you planning for your children’s future, both of those are extremely poor choices as far as useful languages in the world might go). Anyway, point being I do not speak any Espanol, so let’s just call this thingy  a fair, because essentially that’s what it was. A very sketchy, nasty “fair” minus the Pirate Ship and the Scrambler and all the fun rides. Also minus the middle class, but added in a healthy dose of “culture.” I guess you would call this culture. We gather around the main stage and watch some traditional Spanish dancing…maracas, and bright dresses and all the stuff you would imagine. (See picture). We enjoy.

Me gusto!!!!   Shit, I do know Spanish. Good to know!

And after about 45 seconds of enjoyment, my mind wanders and I scan the crowd and take some pictures of my fellow Carnival/ fair/festivus (festiva) partakers. See below:

Seriously, would you even have halfway believed me if I told you that the guy standing next to me was wearing a lavender SILK shirt with a lariat?? I think not. Thank God someone invented cameras. I would hate to not have this memory captured forever.

And as long as I could have stared/marveled over lavender shirt cowboy dude, I hear some clanking on stage intermixed with the maraca shakes. What could that be?? Jesus H. Christ…

See that kid on the right? Look in his hands…see what those are??

Those kids are throwing knives people!! Knives!! What kind of skill is that for children??

I was scared to death. Now, I wouldn’t mind at all seeing an adult stab him or herself in the eye/hand/foot while performing this knife throwing foolishness (actually that would be totally awesome, I am going to ad that to my bucket list. Shit, I don’t have a bucket list. Ok, I will just pray for that experience); but I am not really up for seeing a kid bleed out on the main stage at the Taos County Festivus (or festiva). Back to staring at the Lavender Lone ranger, so wrong…and so right!

The knive throwers exit stage left  and the bright-skirted-maraca girls reappear. Then things get even weirder. In standard issue Wal-Mart duds, these little dudes dance bust in from the side and start break dancing. Yes, break dancing. W.T.F.??? They are going from traditional flamenco dancing (I am positive that was not actual flamenco dancing, but it sounded traditional) to what I am assuming is traditional knife juggling/throwing/cheating death to:

FRONTIN’

Then:

THE FRIGGIN WORM

And then the big finale:

Who can forget the Authentic New Mexican Coffee grinder??

Wow, that is a lot for me to take in. I guess we could maybe even call that Enchanting…maybe?