Our stay was the final leg of a long, beautiful trip in which we experienced plenty and enjoyed plenty more. We recuperated from the miles and calories that we'd collected by staying in a private spa with all the amenities (otherwise known as my grandparents' 5 acre relaxation retreat), eating more and visiting literally every thrift store in town. It was one big pleasure filled blur, but highlights include a hot tub sunrise with tiny bits of snow in the air and Spanish sangria staining our deliriously giggly lips, a steam shower stuffed with a few too many people, delicious meals with glasses of wine and postcard ready sunsets, hugging my grandparents for ages on their hill top meditation platform while the sky turned into what looked like a crimson lava lamp.
Notable food included the best salmon and asparagus ever as mastered by gran, a legitimate french meal that we stuffed mercilessly into our faces while visiting the church and the artisans in the town square, a soup trailors' gospacho, and for the love of god SOPAPILLAS.
Treasures found: a sheepskin jacket a la Almost Famous: the last thing our crowded trunk needed, embellished western blouses, arrowheads for wire wrapping, charmed western belts, a couple perfect cactus skeletons, dangerous amounts of fireworks, black moccassins which I refuse to remove, the best incense of all time, and the.most.beautiful.turquoise.ring.of.all.time: a gift from my insistently generous lover man.
Three important lessons learned:
I am very, very glad that both sides of my blood line are filled with eccentric liberal types.
It doesn't need to be a tropic or beach to be utterly, mind blowingly beautiful.
I can be completely in love with my people, even after spending every minute of 2 weeks together.