Before I write anything else about my Santa Fe adventure, let me say this.

Helen Keller designed the layout for the streets of Santa Fe.

She literally grabbed some parchment, scribbled madly like a woman possessed (she may have also moaned and drooled) and then thrust the Picasso-like result in the hands of the Mayor. I’m 99% sure of it.

Driving around Santa Fe without a navigation system (or even the services of Sacajawea) can drive anyone batty. By the time we finally reached our condo, I wanted to render my faculties useless, much like ‘ole Helen herself.

We arrived into Albuquerque and picked up our rental car and headed on our way. The views were less than spectacular, reminding me of a less interesting Palm Springs or Kern County.

But the New Mexico clouds….

Wow, they were literally 100 feet above us, enormous, billowing pillows begging to be slept on.

One giant cloud appeared as if it were descending upon us, like a malevolent alien spacecraft who’s residents were ready for some serious and thorough probing.

We drove to the quaint, artsy town of Madrid (not pronounced as you would think, much to my chagrin).

When you walk down the streets (admiring the lesbians in their finest REI attire) the shops are all located inside cute, old houses. Lots of southwest art….

Hmm…. Southwest art incorporates a lot of Native American art….

If you know me, you know my take on this dream-catching, wolf-in-the-moonlight genre.

This imaginative wolf on wolfe gem was aptly located in our bathroom.

Get it as far away from me as possible!!

We ate at the famous MINE SHAFT restaurant and I ate the Tortilla Burger. It was basically an enormous hamburger patty stuffed inside a tortilla, coated in cheese, and topped with what Santa Fe is famous for; Green and Red Chile sauce.

Opting for both types of chili’s (as I did below) is referred to as “Christmas”.

Santa Fe equals chili sauce. They love chili’s. I love chili’s.

I thought we would be a match made in heaven. Sadly, Helen’s confusing road system turned my stomach enough to realize I wasn’t ready to commit and needed to see other cities.

On a random note, I saw some red chili peanut brittle at the airport and am still kicking myself for not getting it. In my world, everything would be spicy. Even toilet paper.

Our condo is a stereotypical 1980’s Santa Fe explosion. I have to just show you a picture.

Every square available inch of wall space was covered in some hideous rendering of a desert scene or a Indian family staring into the sun.

We headed into town for dinner at EL FAROL.

We enjoyed a delicious margarita while waiting an hour for our Spanish tapas to arrive, only it to have been completely effed up by the waiter. He duplicated the order of the table next to us.

We started with a cheese plate.

Another hour…another margarita…

I spent this time (besides talking to my friends, blah blah) staring at the world’s largest fanny pack on the world’s second largest ass.

This deluxe pack (special ordered online, no doubt) was quite the site, tied neatly around her ginormous culottes. The lady was chatting very loudly on the phone next to our table.

My staring was simple retaliation.

The food was worth the wait. Small plates of rib eye, tuna and pork with figs as well as fried spinach, paprika mashed potatoes and parmesan incrusted artichoke hearts.

Yum! Southwest Style!