Wednesday, June 13, 2012
musings and a WTF to New Mexico
The trip to Flagstaff was hot, 107 was our peak. Hmm that is really the only bit of news.oh and RV bathrooms, no. No no. The toilet flushes maybe a tablespoon of water, so if you ummm...are gluten intolerant, touch sh-t, literally. And the shower is...well hubby said midget spit. I think I sneeze more water.. Flagstaff reminded me of home, just waking up under someone else's pines. We visited the meteor crater for a sticker- we had lost ours from our previous visit- and a quick stop at the entrance to the Petrified Forest. Somewhere in the middle of nowhere, we passed a hobo, pushing a shopping cart. I think the nearest town was 30 miles away,so why was he there? He would have a neat story I bet. We also passed a rt 66 relic, a trading post that I had been to before but is now gone. It is sad that road trips and roadside attractions are of a bygone era. Onto New Mexico, wtf? I went here before and Alby-q felt....haunted. creepy. And it was like Amish gespringe with so many people in like 2 bars. Lame. So I came this time with an opwn mind. We drive into Gallup for lunch and it all goes downhill, like deliverance. So we are greeted by a Native American with leprosy, hitch hiking. We evade him and I walk into the store and see unibrowed twin girls in gym clothes. Then I see a man inblack who looks like if Carrot Top and Dog the Bounty Hunter's son procreated. In front of me are a couplr from Oklahoma the epitome of Oakie stereotypes, in clothes from the earky 90s, wife in those shirts with what look like gills or like they got clawed by a lion, and both have red necks. Then hubby says to just wait in the RV and I feel like a sitting duck for freakville rapes or something, as a gang banger paces the lot and chugs and tosses beer after beer. Then we stop for gas and I see Safari Sam, a hippy meets Crocodile Dundee. I find people with a "day pass" and two men speaking not Spanglish but Spangaho? Navajo-Spanish. I see a sweaty obese hairy man and his barefoot, coke bottle glasses, sweatpanted girl eith ratty hair. Crap. That was me at age tenbut anyways.... New Mexico is pretty, and that is it. I will probably get flack for bashing this place but second time around is even more disappointing. We just passed what my raised in South America hubby calls a favela, a shanty town. It was a reservation for Native Americans, in such well shanty poverty unlike I have ever seen. It saddens me thatsome of our Native people live in suhc thirdworlddire poverty.