Albuquerque blue

Last weekend, I found myself far away from Ohio, in Albuquerque, NM, attending the annual conference of the American Studies Association. It was the first time I went to a conference where I didn't have to present a paper, so I was virtually stress free, and could attend the panels I wanted to hear, and peruse the booths of book publishers, with nothing hanging over my head (except the eternal stacks of grading I always have waiting for me!).

This was my third time in Albuquerque, since I'd been there in the early 1990s with my dad to attend the National Hispanic Journalist Association, at the same hotel we were staying at this time. I believe a second time was when I went there in the late mid-1990s while I worked for the Puerto Rico government. I don't remember much about that trip, which is a sign of how unpleasant it was.

This time around, however, I met up in Albuquerque with my good friend, TK, she of the elegant treeness, and we had a lot of fun together. TK has been a friend and professional mentor since I began at Ohio State six years ago. Two years ahead of me in the program, but about 15 years younger, she and I became fast friends after embarking on several adventures together. Those included working in the same office, and then running for and being voted into several student government positions. The latter were among those misguided impulses I tend to fall into, like working for the government.

Albuquerque is not hard to navigate (at least the part we were in), so we soon got information on how to get to the Old Town by bus and off we were after settling into our large, comfy room, and after having a scrumptious lunch at the Gold Street Caffé, one of the best restaurants I've ever eaten at, ever. The top picture was the view from our 12th-floor room. Not bad at all.

What struck us both about Albuquerque was the pure, lit up, blueness of its sky. It's its own shade of Albuquerque blue, which contrasted to the pinks and burnt oranges and browns of its architecture, makes for wonderful views.

Old Town is tiny, and mostly filled with tourist traps that will charge you upwards of $250 for a necklace, but it's worth the short walk, and there's tons of shops to walk in and out of, as TK and I did. There's also gorgeous Southwestern architecture and flora, like this huge cactus with purple flowers, set against a pink adobe building with brown windows.

And then there's the piece de resistance in the middle of the tiny plaza, a gloriously beautiful church, with yellow-orange walls and white trim, and its many crosses rising against the bluest of skies.

That day there was a wedding being held at the church, and the bride was just walking out as TK and I wandered by. She had a long, gauzy veil, that dragged behind her, and she had to stop and ask her maid of honor to pick it up for her so she could get into the limo.

Our shopping thirsts sated (TK with some cool-looking T-shirts and I with a native made crucifix), we took the bus back to the hotel as the sun began to set and the azure blue began to fade into baby tones of pink. After we'd gotten off the bus, we walked by an intriguing-looking building, and took some pictures, because its colors and the decorations on the walls and windows were so unique.

Ultimately, the trip was as mellow as these pictures suggest, although while I was at the conference I got several good ideas of how I can make my scholarship stronger, and my research motors got all revved up. But when I came back home and was once again drowned in class prep and grading and meetings with students and colleagues, I've become completely mystified as to when I'll be able to get back to my writing.

With God's help, I'm pretty good at making things I want to happen, happen, so I've decided to aim for the week of Thanksgiving, when I have a full 7 days free, to make a research plan for the second half of this academic year.

This last trip to Albuquerque remains a vivid blue and pink memory, and like the mountains that rise majestically on its horizon, it reminded me that I still have horizons I want to move forward to.