There are certain stops along the way that bring about thoughts of enchantment and novelty. Santa Fe is one of those stops. Ten years ago I remember mom and pop shops, small diners, street musicians. My buddy, Tony, recalls greasy diners with great food that a person could afford to eat. Today, romanticism and beauty of Santa Fe gave way to the posh west and exploitation of the indigenous people of old Santa Fe. Fancy galleries and expensive coffees are the backyard of the Hilton Hotel. The glamorized west has won. Capitalism has won the enchantment of Santa Fe.
The simulation of life doesn’t seem to feel enchanting at all. A Navajo woman sitting on a milk crate waiting for the tacky tourist to pass by. Tourist scouring for good deals to take home. Boasting to friends “I bought this in Santa Fe” as if that trinket carried the spirit of Santa Fe. Maybe they did take the spirit of Santa Fe home with them. Walking the streets of Santa Fe was like something had sucked the spirit right out of the city and the people of lived there. The tourist must have transported the spirit right out through the trinkets of Santa Fe.
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