47 degrees
on the road at 7:45am - new record. Why we started so early on this particular day is a mystery since Albuquerque is an easy commute distance from Santa Fe. Call us contrarians.
We missed the annual Albuquerque ballon festival by a few days, not that we ever planned on making it, but the next best thing was a visit to the International Ballon Museum - located here for obvious reasons. What we used to know about lighter than air flight to fit in a thimble - now it fits in a balloon (kid type).
Impressive building, just a few days before the parking lot was jam packed and visitors were falling out the windows. Now? You might feel quite safe shooting a gun in any direction in the parking lot, blindfolded.
Unlike hot air ballons, the Zeppelin used hydrogen for lift which, under certain conditions did get pretty hot - crispy hot.
A balloonophiles paradise. Many historic artifacts have found a resting place, among them those which have set altitude records.
Oddly eerie.
This jumble of a photo takes place in a demo balloon basket with Pam falling forward into Norm while trying to hook her left elbow into a rope and wave at the same time. Meanwhile, Norm is barely managing control of the selfie stick. And here we want to be professional baloonists!
One of the specialized vehicles carried aloft to extremely high altitudes by enormous helium balloons. Pam is ready to book passage.
A depiction of various baloon flights across the Atlantic and who made them.
This once high flying basket has been grounded to a life of humiliation in the gift shop as a shill vehicle for cosmetics, potions and doo-dads.
Those who participate take their avocation very seriously. The brown jacket must weigh 25 pounds.
If the flame suddenly goes out, start tossing sand bags and passengers overboard.
A few miles down the road, still in Albuquerque, and a return to more ancient times.
There are residential streets and houses fronting the monument. Web site instructions cautioned visitors to set their GPS units using longitude and latitude to avoid getting misdirected into the maze of nearby streets. Pam and Norm poo-pooed this precaution - Navigator Pam being the more pooey of the two - and promptly ended up in a mobile home cul-de-sac. But we finally did arrive.
Empty benches wait patiently for the hordes of visitors who will sit, fidgeting, while Ranger Rick explains various things. We can attest that on the day we were there, the benches would have a long wait.
Of several trails to walk and see petroglyphs, we picked this one.
The Traveling Twosome, blissfully unaware of the climbing rigors ahead.
We were walking on 200,000 year old basalt.
Okay, this is worth the climb.
This, also.
Going up you didn't have to look down. Going down you did. Mountain Goat footing required.
The person who scratched this the into the rock had a harder time getting to this point than we did.
Pam either wiping her brow or shading her eyes. If it seems that picture taker Norm is directly overhead Pam well, he is.
Norm pleased to find that the knee strengthening exercises at home are translating to happy mountaineering. And no, his hand is not touching one of the petroglyphs. God forbid!
Back to civilization. Who wants to see the "real" city when "old towns" beckon?
The main entry to old town, with a cowpoke on horseback that looks alot like the statue of a Pony Express rider in Old Sacramento. Weird stuff.
This a less grand entrance in a back wall. Cute though.
Albuquerque's old town is much less gentrified than Santa Fe's - feels sort of homey and quaint, a bit rough around the edges. People who can no longer afford to live in Santa Fe move to Albuquerque.
Very nice, unpretentious church fronting on the plaza, San Felipe de Neri.
No organ, not even a tiny one
A sign said to not sit on the horse. Then why is it there?
These cutup cuties looked pretty tall until Norm got in there and sort of spoiled things.
We were told that this was fresh cut yesterday from the back forty at Petroglyph NM. We were ready to buy, but it wouldn't fit in the Fit and the seller wouldn't ship for free. We were forlorn. We went looking for plastic tablemats instead.
Okay, slightly creepy.
Not far from the Plaza is the Albuquerque Museum, definitely up to date. A real showpiece.
In two of seven galleries were exhibited a portion of the Elie and Viola Nadelman folk art collection which they amassed between 1900 and 1929 - 15,000 items in all. They were among the first people to use the term "folk art" and recognize its importance. They went bankrupt in the '29 Crash and sold the bulk of the collection to New York University in 1930. This is the first public exhibition of these items.
Another gallery, another theme.
Norm has this very radio in his collection, except the marroon portion is ivory colored. A 1946 Crosley. It is an interesting shape but goes to show that once anything is placed under plexiglass, given a title and shown in a refined environment, it thereupon becomes Art.
Norm thought these were nice wood carvings, but the fine print said they were used to impress decorative scenes onto the tops of cakes in the old days.
All tiled - the artist was known as "the tile lady" who also tiled the entire outside and inside of her home.
Norm says that if you cannot make out what is going on in this picture then go, retain your innocence. There's some gnarley stuff happening.
It is what it is.
In front of the museum is a sculpture garden containing, among other art, a massive array of bronzes depicting the journey made by conquistadors to settlers in the making of the city.
Pam smooching with a rugged cowboy - unrewarding as that may be, being bronze and all.
We sat outside on the deck for lunch today at Tio Chava's with "Peruvian flute & guitar music" serenading us. Norm thought the background amplification gave it a Yanni-ish sound. Pam figured more John Tesh. Whatever.
We were sitting outside. Who knows who this foursome is?
Yanni, meet John.
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