I was going to start this post by saying that the trip actually started off rather well, but that’s not exactly true either.

At 11:30 last night, I arrived in Albuquerque, by way of Minneapolis. The whole idea of having to go through Minneapolis, is in itself rather absurd. Look on the map…I flew way past where I needed to be, and then back and down, to get to my destination.

Ah well, that’s how things go. I don’t really mind the flights and waiting rooms and long walks down to gates…it always evokes that suspended-time feeling that airports and planes provide.

I think it’s one of those times I can really just sit and watch people or read or whatever without feeling I should be doing something. 

I believe I’ve teased it apart to reveal that I can get away with this because I am traveling..that’s what I’m doing. Therefore, I am off that stupid hook that I so often feel compelled to hang myself on, the one that proclaims I must be accomplishing something at all times.  I understand this is stupid. I get that.

They say awareness is the first step. Apparently, I’ve been jumping up that first step, on the same stupid staircase for quite some time now.

But we’re talking about the trip. The first thing one needs to know when traveling to Albuquerque, is that the airport, and therefore taxis, sort of dries up after 8 pm. Several of us stood a good long while before a cab or two appeared. As it was, I shared mine with some desperate conference-going man. 

Around midnight, the cabbie dropped me at the corner of 7th and Roma where I proceeded to use the code that had been emailed to me…It didn’t work.

Many tries, a few phone calls, more attempts at the keycodes. Soon, the divan on the porch is looking like it might be my sleeping quarters for the night. I am resigned to thinking it’s a funny story when my next phone call reaches the owner, Linda.

She’s gracious about being wakened at 1 in the morning and I’m finding it funny that the code doesn’t work, so we straighten things out in good humour. This includes her directions to the wine in the fridge which I say I won’t need, and then upon entering my room, immediately decide I really do. 

I flop on a sofa in a huge room with wonderful old wood floors, a glass of chilly white and some New Mexico magazines. Life is looking good again. 

It’s even better the next morning when I open my door onto the porch, the very one that I thought I’d be sleeping on.

I sit with my coffee and journal and listen to the sound of silence, broken only by the coo-coo, coo-coo of the doves.  It’s the sound I associate with being somewhere else. I’ve heard them in Paris, Marakkech and Porto and they always conjure up that misty feeling of being out, out in a different world – a world other than my own.

I meet Linda the next morning. She puts on a great breakfast in her funky, homey place. The Mauger Estate B&B feels like a real find. Thank you Albuquerque Tourism for directing me to those doors.

Linda spends an inordinate amount of time trying to find me a shuttle to Taos. Once again I haven’t done my due diligence and assumed I would be able to take the train up to Santa Fe and grab a bus from there. This is true, but only if I’d have caught it first thing in the morning. The next one is late afternoon.

No problem. Linda demonstrates a hospitality that is way-beyond-the-call-of-duty and drives me back to the airport where I book a shuttle with Twin Hearts Express Transportation. This is the cautionary part of this tale.

When in Albuquerque, do NOT book with Twin Hearts. I will be doing my level best to have the company shut down. I have never experienced a more unprofessional, horrible, frightening and unsafe ride – anywhere in the world.

When I say this, I include the 2 am hurtling Taksi ride down the streets of Istanbul and the Indy-wannabe Israeli cabbie in Tel Aviv.

Those rides were nothing in comparison to this abusive raging driver that had us hostage in his van for the couple of very long hours from the Albuquerque airport to Taos.

I seriously wondered if I’d be able to punch him hard enough in the temple to knock him out… but then there was the rather delicate operation of wresting the steering wheel away from him while simultaneously hurtling down the highway at 75 mph. I know it works a lot better in the movies than in real life and decided I’d just pray that air bag would deploy if necessary. I remained silent, avoided eye-contact and hoped.

We arrived alive. I can only wonder what happened to the poor guy who was going the furthest with him. He was definitely worried about the next leg of the journey.

But I am here in the lovely Comfort Suites in Taos. I can’t believe the size of this room. I have my own desk area, TV room and little kitcheny area. It’s dead quiet in this desert town with only the odd car going by now.

I have been to the dinner buffet with writers and teachers and the tables of books and I have my pre-class notes and I am so ready to dig into this week…and, and, and…It feels like such a large gift to me – especially considering I got to arrive alive.