The City Different

When I'm in Santa Fe I feel like I'm home.

There's a restaurant there dedicated to vegans. To vegans! If chefs there can do it, chefs everywhere can do it, but they choose not to. And the food is phenomenal. I ate a chocolate "cheesecake" last night that made me want to slap my momma.

I feel like I can run! run! run! and keep on running down the quiet residential streets. (It's probably attributed to running at six thousand feet instead of nine thousand feet, but I like to think it's the city breathing life into my lungs and legs.)

My favorite independent bookstore--Collected Works--doesn't ask me to repeat the authors' names of the books I'm looking for. They've heard of the authors I'm referencing and create a connection I crave.

Culture is everywhere, from the art galleries to the men who sell newspapers on the street.

Religion there feels different. It feels like history instead of preaching.

Don't even get me started on the chile. Red or green? When in doubt, let it be Christmas all over again.

People who live in Santa Fe call it the City Different for rightful reasons. There is culture, entertainment, and art. Cormac McCarthy, opera, and ballet. Malls, movies, and macabre. It is a small city with big city culture. There is a serious sense of collective creativity. The city is alive with ideas and when I'm there, I am too.