SavocaWeb

2005-07-23 – Snippets and Sightings

I’ve seen quite a bit in my last few days in New Mexico.

On the way home from work Tuesday evening, I pulled into the center of the road to avoid a family unpacking their car, and nearly rolled right over an awkward bird strutting across the roadway. After a few dings from the bell on my bike, the roadrunner gave a little hop and scampered away. And no, it didn’t go “meep meep,” and no, Wile E. Coyote was nowhere in sight.

Wednesday and Thursday – my first week at work – I was on a trip with John Petronis (the company president) and architect Susan Freed down to Las Cruces, 3 hours south of Albuquerque and the 2nd largest city in the state (yes, it’s larger than Santa Fe), although calling a little town like that a city seems strange to me; the tallest building is eight stories. Still, it beats Cleveland’s population by quite a bit.

On the way down I-25, we passed through Truth or Consequences, NM, named after the TV show from the 50’s. It’s a cool name for a town, to be sure, but it won’t fit on most street signs, so it’s abbreviated to “T or C.” Just east of that is a city called Elephant Butte; with a name like that, I’m sure they get razzed all the time.

The meetings in Las Cruces were long and exhausting, but thoroughly enjoyable. New Mexico State University is interested in constructing a Performing Arts Center on campus to showcase their arts, music, dance, and theater programs, and provide a place for community arts groups to perform. Considering the town has no real center or downtown (it’s even more of a suburb than Albuquerque!), this could be a new focal point for the city. ARC was called in to do what it does best – investigate the needs of the center and the requirements of those within it. Through a (LONG) series of one-on-one meetings, we met with all sorts of community arts groups and public figures, as well as many of NMSU’s deans and administrators, including the university’s President. I was thrilled to be working on such an exciting project, in addition to rubbing elbows with some rather important people.

Las Cruces sits, not really in a basin, but between two mountain ranges. Off to the west, some steep but rounded peaks overlook the city. On the east, the Organ mountain range rises up in a similar way, but aboutr halfway up the slope transforms into a craggy, violent series of spires, a burst of lava caught in midair, looking like a snapshot of a dynamite blast. From my hotel room, I watched as a thunderstorm built up over the horizon, lightning flashing as the dull cloud drifted over the western outskirts of the city. ((on a side note, it’s so dry and dusty here that when it rains, the water pulls the dust down out of the air, and cars actually look dirtier after the rain))

The drive home was spent chatting about architecture with John and Susan, but I still caught an eyeful of marvelous sights.

Dust devils, flitting about and tossing dull salmon-colored dust into the air.

The future home of the New Mexico Spaceport – if and when commercial space flight becomes realistic. (For now, it’s a semi trailer sitting in the middle of a huge expanse of flat land, populated by dry brush).

Three identical clouds, stacked atop one another like smoke signals.

A mirage at the base of a mountain range, reflecting the brilliant blue sky and making the hazy mountains appear to float off the horizon and join the clouds.

A mesa, severed perfectly flat and clean as if by some cosmic lawn mower that decided that one too many mountain peaks crowded the horizon.

A low mountain covered with curving lines of vegetation, that looked like someone took a comb and went willy-nilly around the slopes. It almost looked like a fingerprint, with tight rows of lines reflecting the changes in topography.

And of course, the sound of me saying “yes!” rather loudly as I woke up in the car… although neither John nor Susan had asked a question. Nothing like a good first impression!

2005-07-17 – But Wait! There’s More!

This city is simply remarkable. More than anything else, though, is the weather. In the half hour that’s lapsed since my last entry, the blue sky has given way to a crackling thunderstorm.

Nature seems to possess a great deal of power here. It almost feels like a sentient force. To gaze at the clouds, they move and change shape in a way that makes them seem alive. At any time, if there are any clouds in the sky at all, there seem to be several different types, all layering over one another. There are the cumulous, puffy and carrying heavy blue shadows in all of their folds. The cirrus clouds wisp out above them, with much softer edges that fade into the sky. The nimbostratus slip into view from the horizon almost without warning, rolling across with fury and unleashing thunder and lightning and torrential rain, then vanishing as quickly as they came.

As a result, the sunsets here are unbelievably gorgeous. The window in my apartment faces the West, so I do cannot watch the sun rising over the Sandia mountains, but I do have the benefit of seeing the sky burst into flames every evening as the sun paints the clouds in glorious brilliant reds and oranges.

As tangible as the clouds, quick gusts of wind can pick up at a moment’s notice, whirling the orange dust about and depositing it on windows, on cars, in people’s eyes and hair. A storm will pull the dust down out of the air, and as the raindrops dry they leave an outline of dust in their stead.

Quite the opposite of New York, here the weather seems to dictate the people. Instead of standing fiercely opposed to the onslaught of nature, the buildings more respond to it, attempt to cooperate with it, as if realizing the futility of anything otherwise.

More as I am inspired. Hopefully coherence accompanies epiphany.

2005-07-17 – Albuquerque at First Glance

The last two weeks here in New Mexico have been quite exciting. Lots to see, and lots to talk about.

Albuquerque, or ABQ, or Burque, or Duke City, is fascinating in both its past and present. The historic “Old Town” unfortunately is more of a tourist trap than anything historically significant, but the nearby Museum of Art and History makes up for it, full of art from New Mexican artists (including contemporary works), and artifacts from the Spanish conquistadors and Native Americans. One interesting tidbit I discovered is that Albuquerque used to be spelled “Alburquerque,” after the the Spanish duke who was viceroy of “New Spain” at the time (The Duke was also the cause of the city’s other moniker, “Duke City”). After gaining independence from Spain, residents decided to drop the extra “R: to make the city easier to spell. This sounds remarkably similar to the story of how “Cleaveland” had to drop the “A” so the name would fit onto the front page of the “Cleveland Plain Dealer” newspaper. In my opinion, they should have changed the name of the paper instead of the town, and in ABQ’s case, just changed the whole bloody name – it’s still so hard to spell, even the travel agent had to ask me how to spell it.

It’s blazing hot out here. The temperature frequently breaks 100º (currently at 4:30pm it’s 100.3º and rising), but the humidity stays pretty low, although now it’s at a “high” 24%. We’re at an elevation of about 6,000 feet above sea level, so at least it’s a good 15º cooler than Phoenix on average. It sounds like a hostile environment, but as long as you stay out of direct sunlight, it’s pretty comfortable. Of course, that’s not as easy as it sounds. The sun has a way of feeling like it’s at high noon throughout the day. This is amplified by the fact that very few objects in the landscape – trees, buildings – grow high enough to cast a long shadow. You see people waiting by the bus stops in a very peculiar line – they’re all crowding under the shade of the nearest telephone pole.

The bus system out here seems to be fairly reliable, but the buses keep rather odd hours. During rush hour, buses usually come every 15-20 minutes, but other than that it’s every 30-60, and worse on the weekends. They also don’t run very late in the evening, although the two “Rapid Ride” routes recently expanded their weekend schedule to run through downtown until 3am – hey, a transit authority responsive to night life! Since every bus has a bike rack, I really can get around without too much trouble.

The people on the bus seem somewhat less friendly or positive than the rest of the city, but that doesn’t stop them from talking. Eavesdroppers such as me get an earful of shocking and often amusing stories. I pity some of them, as many are poverty-stricken or have mental disabilities, and some of the tales they tell are downright disheartening. Others, though, are worth taking down. On the way back this afternoon, some woman who claimed to be telepathic was recounting to a listener (who probably regrets ever making eye contact with her) about all the conspiracies and mafia connections and murder attempts going on between Albuquerque and Fort Lauderdale – people stealing her mail through special trucks franchised from the US Postal Service, psychiatric wards in the hospital keeping her prisoner and using people as guinea pigs to test out prescription drugs, her husband’s mistress tapping her phone line. I exchanged quizzical looks with the man seated next to me and said that I ought to become a bus driver, write stories about the people who rode my bus, and sell the book to a publisher. So strange that one of the most well-dressed people I’ve yet to see ride a city bus is also one of the most paranoid and delusional.

But still, I’m pleased with my ability to get around without a car. After about ten years, I’ve started to bike again. It’s not exactly true, what they say about “It’s just like riding a bike.” You get pretty rusty. I was really embarrassed test-riding bikes, as it took me awhile to remember how to start off. But I’ve acclimated quickly, and I’ve been putting some good miles on my hybrid – essentially a mountain bike with a few adjustments to make it ideal for urban street-riding.

The folks in the bike shop have me as afraid of the road as the insane city drivers, though. Apparently, a little thorny plant with seeds called “goat heads” is the bane of bicyclists everywhere. These small flat seeds have two horns (yes, they really do look like goat heads) that just LOVE scatter all over the city and plant themselves into bike tires and cause a flat. My kevlar inner-tubes have yet to encounter such a nasty little plant, but I’m sure it won’t be too long.

Riding really gives you a different perspective on a city than walking or driving. You become very aware of your surroundings, as cars whiz by next to you at 40mph, and the scenery jumps out at you (literally, in the case of that accursed cactus encroaching onto the sidewalk on Girard Blvd… grrr).

Also, though, it makes you very aware of just how difficult it must be for someone confined to a wheelchair to move around the city. Wheelchair ramps are often hidden away and, once found, usually require quite a bit of maneuvering. Telephone poles, fire hydrants, trash cans, and other “urban furniture” crowd a sidewalk and make it impossible for even a bike to pass. Often, cross-walks occur a good ten feet away from the curb cut. Some intersections have no curb cuts at the sidewalk at all, which would require a person (unable to lift their wheelchair as I would my bike) to wheel back to the nearest driveway, roll out into the street, and hope that a semi-truck won’t overtake the person before he or she reaches the next access point.

The sidewalks simply weren’t designed for wheels – sometimes even pedestrians have a hard time. For one, although winters here are not nearly severe as Ohio’s, they still occur. The designers of the sidewalk, planning for desert climates, did not install a very substantial foundation, so upheaval (from frost, tree roots, differential settlement, etc) often pushes the slabs up or down. I encountered two such instances today where one slab was a full six or seven inches above the other. When one considers the fact that the American Disabilities Act states that a difference of more than a quarter inch is unacceptable, such problems appear atrocious.

In addition to upheaval, ABQ’s sidewalks have another problem – they lack a treelawn. In Ohio, we have a six- or eight-inch wide curb, then about three feet of grass or other vegetation, and then the sidewalk. In Albuquerque, the sidewalk is butted right up against the curb. This sounds like a good way to give someone a few feet more of “lawn” (which, in ABQ, consists of some rocks with a few sickly little shrubs scattered about), but it also means that the sidewalk is not flat, but descends at every driveway with the apron. In a heavy residential area, such as the one I bike through, this equates to a major speed bump every twenty feet or so. Even with hefty shocks on my bike, it’s still a terribly bumpy ride. Needless to say, I zip over to a less-busy street and bike on the roadway.

Today, I decided to bike along a part of the bike trail that runs along the Rio Grande. Supposedly, it’s one of the longest paved bike paths in the country. Well, I didn’t have enough water or sunblock to prove them right or wrong. It was a lovely trail, though. Without having to contend with traffic, I was free to take in the scenery – the old cottonwood groves, the green and gold dry shrubs, tributaries to the river bubbling past, tiny lizards scuttling across the trail. Some birds of prey (Vultures? Buzzards?) were circling overhead, mimicked by fighter planes from Kirtland Air Force Base a few thousand feet above, against a backdrop of dynamic towering cumulous clouds. Considering the heavy green painted on the bike map, I was expecting a lush, shaded path. While the trees along the river are certainly more full, majestic, and populous than elsewhere in the city, the trail maintains a good distance (I’m guessing to preserve the natural environment), so yet again I cannot escape the sun.

I had my camera with me, but despite the copious natural beauty, I could not photograph it. The landscape is so wide and open here. Even my field of vision seems too narrow to take it all in – I find myself spinning to get the whole picture, the Sandia Mountains, the trees, the river, the highway, the clouds. I suppose soon I will either have to develop my skills to appropriately capture the scenery, or just resolve to snap pictures that are “limited” in their ability to devour the whole scene.

As delighted as I am to be in this amazing and quirky city, I still envy the locales of some of my friends. I’m always thrilled to get feedback from Texas, California, Alaska, Japan, Spain, and of course Ohio. For better or worse, the world is shrinking.

More reports from Duke City should follow as I continue to explore. My first day of work is tomorrow, and it looks like on Wednesday I’ll be making a business trip 3.5 hrs south to Las Cruces with the President of the company. They sure like to hit the ground running, don’t they?