Greetings from the steps of the Agia Sophia Coffee Shop, at pretty much the foot of Pikes Peak. I came down here from my guesthouse to borrow some wifi (coffee shop is closed) so I could get directions to Holy Theophany parish this morning. Wifi's not working right at my residence this morning, so no blogging till I get it sorted later. So hang tight.
Yesterday's drive up from Amarillo was remarkable. I thought the Panhandle was desolate, but it was nothing compared to the upper Panhandle, New Mexico and Colorado. I've never driven out West, so I simply had no way to understand how BIG and EMPTY this country of ours is. Really, it just goes on and on and on. I guess the cliche is true: you have to see it to believe it. I was alternately moved by its tranquil beauty, and unnerved by the isolation. Oceans and oceans of plains, punctuated the farther northwest you go by hills, mesas and the odd mountain or two.
It is bliss to sit here wearing a sweater. It's in the 50s. The air is cool and dry. It's not Dallas.
I had an Ignatius-on-the-Greyhound experience yesterday. I searched online yesterday morning for a good place to eat lunch in Raton, NM, which was where I'd be driving through around noon. Found good things said of El Matador, a Mexican restaurant there, on the route. Oh good, I thought, New Mexican Mexican, not like Tex-Mex; let's see what that's like.
I pulled over and asked directions at a motel when I couldn't find it. "You'll be sorry," the woman behind the counter warned, but I thought she was just jealous because I didn't want to eat in the motel coffee shop (and felt bad for asking her to send me to a competitor, but hey, I was hungry, and had my mind set on Mexican food).
Serves me right: El Matador was awful, really awful. Traumatizingly awful. Henceforth, when it comes to El Matador, I'm rooting for the bull. It's going to take me a long time to get over my resentment of that greasy-spoon crapstand. Because that's the kind of petty person I am.
But here is a lesson for me about food chains. There was a Pizza Hut across the street, and I absolutely should have gone there, or to a fast food joint. But not me: I want local color, local food. And I got burned bigtime. Sometimes, there's a lot to be said for not being surprised by food on a roadtrip.
OK, back to the cottage to get ready for liturgy. I'll check in later.
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btw, I was in Denver without a car the other day. I really wanted to go to Colorado Springs, and I found the FREX bus for getting there, but I couldn't figure out how one would get around on public transportation inside Colorado Springs. I wanted to visit the Air Force Academy, Garden of the Gods, and Pikes Peak, but was unable to find information on how to do that. So I stayed in Denver and enjoyed the Tattered Cover, the art museum, the aquarium, and Confluence Park instead. Does anybody out there have any suggestions for how I could have gotten around Colorado Springs?
The chain is only as good as the local who owns the franchise and the teenagers who staff the kitchen. The small town Subway where my parents live, for instance, is pretty horrible. My mother and I ate at a locally owned Italian place instead of the Pizza Hut this spring and were served barely warmed up spaghetti, disgusting sauce with still frozen broccoli, and soggy garlic bread. There was Christmas music playing over the loudspeakers in March and no one else was dining in the restaurant at noon on a Saturday. This should have been the first hint.
Diamonds aren't forever. Kansas is forever.
Ever done I-94 between eastern Montana and Fargo, ND? Somewhere around Dickinson I swore I saw Dante and Virgil on the side of the road on their way out of Purgatory:)
What are you doing eating that New Mexico stuff, Rod? Any Texan, native or otherwise, should know better.
As a 7th generation Texan with roots deep in West and South Texas, I have enjoyed reading about your trip through the flatlands. Regarding Mexican food, if you haven't eaten it at points south of San Antonio, you haven't really eaten it.
Watch out for the chai (or whatever they are calling it) at Agia Sophia, unless you enjoy going into sugar shock.
It's a nice place, but by golly, if I go into the Samovar Room, I want to see a working samovar!
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