We began day two with a visit from the hotel's security. George and Cole jumped wildly from bed to bed, screaming. We tried to shhh them, but made as much noise as they did in the process. Rooms on both sides complained. Oops.
We had promised the kids a ride on the vintage Santa Fe train and as the weather report again promised rain, we thought this was the day to do it. Before the train's departure, we visited the children's museum. There was nothing particularly New Mexican about it, but we knew the kids would love it. Here no one would try to quiet them or reign them in.
George was nervous that the train would not return to Santa Fe, so we checked with several people, several times. Adeline was afraid we'd miss the train and ran off without me, down the street, to board it. George ran down the cabin excitedly yelling to his siblings that the train was leaving when an old curmudgeon of a man very rudely told him to be quiet.
"I'm sorry," I said. "He's very excited."
"I don't care. I paid the same price as you did for my ticket."
"He's just a boy who loves trains." I didn't know what he meant exactly by the ticket price.
"I can survey all the guests in this train and how much they appreciate your kids."
I was stunned. The older woman seated by him (presumably his wife) looked away and avoided eye contact with me. The younger woman smiled helplessly.
"We've all had kids, but you could't hear mine from the front seat to the backseat." he claimed.
"Yours must be the only ones." I said quietly and after glancing again at his poor wife whose eyes were still fixed on the still stationary station out of the window, returned to the safety of my nice husband and awesome father.
I wanted to say... "and I'm sure they are very healthy members of soceity now," or as Tom suggested, "I imagine you are not helping them pay for their psychatrist bills."
One lady a seat over scolded him. At Lamy (the only stop and was true to its name... Lame-y), we had lunch by the train tracks. Many people came over to tell me how sweet and well-behaved our kids were and how rude the man was. (Thank goodness none of them was a neighbor at La Fonda hotel!)
The train ride was a dull 4 hour excursion for an adult, but the kids were happy. There was again no rain, and Tom and I regretted not making it to the Taos Pueblo. Ah well.
The boys and I visited the pool while Adeline napped and Tom supervised. We also got cowboy/girl costumes courtesy of Babu. We chose the Cowgirl BBQ for dinner and the kids were in heaven. All the staff wore cowboy hats!
As we returned to our hotel after dinner, a band was playing. Our two cowboys began to dance up a storm. The crowd turned from the band to the boys, clapping and taking photos. Cole smiled and grooved. George spun and showed his fancy foot work.We had to drag them off to bed.
Day 3: We visited Taos Pueblo. We were too close to miss it. Cole puked his Cowgirl dinner all over himself as we arrived. We were far from the hotel from which we'd checked out. What do we do? The road was wind-y, and he claimed to feel okay. We went in... deciding that I would come back with him if he felt badly again.
The first thing I saw was a white pickup truck with a horse on either side of it. I did a double take and grabbed my camera just in time.
A young Pueblo Indian in his 20s lead us on a brief tour. He was very interesting in his brandname jeans, hip sweatshirt, and tribal turqoise wide-holed earrings. He was respectful of his elders and the sacred dwellings, but admitted that most of the youth lived outside the pueblo for the convenience of running water and electricity.
The pueblo contains the oldest known dwellings in the USA that are still lived in. It dates back before the settlers even came to find the country (between 1000-1400 AD). The Spanish found the "Indians" there in the 1600s. Many of the buildings we saw were original.
The pueblo is situated at the base of the snow-covered Taos mountains and the red willow (another name for the tribe Red Willow people) runs along the river bank.
The language the tribe speaks is Tiwa, and it is forbidden to record it. It is not a written language. The guests had their cameras tagged. We were to ask permission before taking a person's photograph. Signs in the stores said, "no photography." I didn't take any shots of people. It didn't seem appropriate.
A high energy, slightly nutty woman from the tribe kept interupting the tour and talking to our guide in Tiwa and English. He handled it gracefully. The woman was quite sweet and hugged Adeline and Adeline's pink frog. I thought Adeline would shun her, but instead allowed herself to be hugged and smiled.
Tom took Cole and Adeline to the bathroom and back to the car while George and I took one last look around. It is a remarkable place, and it sounds silly to say. There is so much history and so many things we are not privy to know (sacred rituals and places). I felt like the tourist and foreigner that I was.
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