Moving to Santa Fe

Armistead Maupin, the author of Tales of the City, Mr.-San-Francisco-after- Herb Caen,  leaving for Santa Fe on Thursday.   He's quoted in today's  San Francisco Chronicle as saying that at 68 he needs "an autumnal adventure," and that he and his partner would like "more space and more nature."

I so like Maupin, his writing and his political views, but here we diverge.  I don't like Santa Fe.  The last time I went I wrote in my journal,  "Carmel Gone Adobe."

We stayed in a new-adobe cottage called "Amor," on Canyon Road, which is lined with art galleries. It was quiet there, and the patio was a perfect place for Jerry to hang a light sheet to catch moths.   At first, I was seduced by the beautiful blue doors and window frames, the bright windowboxes, and the genuinely old adobes.  I enjoyed my survey of margaritas at local restaurants. 

Yes, it was called "Amor"

But afterwhile I began to hate the cultivated sameness of the architecture.  There were far too many Land Rovers and way too much money.  I got so cranky that I started taking pictures of utility wires, water meters, and plastic dust pans  to offset the preciousness.

The best part was getting out of Santa Fe and seeing the surrounding countryside.  Maybe Maupin and his partner will get a house in the hills and not venture into town too often.  Maybe, as Anne Lamott says in the Chronicle,  "...he'll come crawling back."  She says it's like hearing that "Golden Gate Park decided to move."

Note the pipes and utility wires

A plastic dust pan sunning itself near a not-wood window on a new adobe