You’ll recall that I’m talking about our recent (short) trip to New Mexico for a friend’s memorial service. And I had just gotten us to our AirB&B, which was a little Casita...a little house, a Casa-ita...on Mountain Road, just up from Old Town and the city’s museums of art and natural history.
And the Casita was, well, quite literally lovely. Even in the dark we could tell that. It was a frame and stucco house of the sort that’s quite common in New Mexico, and which is supposed to look like an adobe. And, in this case, it really did. For that matter, maybe it really *was* an adobe. I honestly don’t know.
The Casita...inside and out!
It was small, and comfortably tan, and had a little pitched roof with a turquoise trim. And there were good windows, which meant you got good light. That’s surprisingly rare in B&Bs, and we dislike dark and gloomy places (there was that time in New Hampshire when the landlord wanted to give us “the troll cave room,” which was in the basement, and was literally made to look like a cave, complete with irregular stone walls. Didn’t fly, needless to say.)
We went inside the little Casita and discovered we liked it as much from the inside as the out. It was small, I suppose, but it felt much bigger. There was a living room, a bedroom, a bath, and what amounted to a full kitchen. Again, the light was excellent--lamps in all the places you need to read (another ongoing complaint. Why don’t hosts offer reading lamps?) and more lights over head, but not blinding ones. There was no glare, in other words.
The walls were a restfully off-white, and decorated with an amazing collection of art -- paintings, photographs, ceramic plates, and so on. I am guessing at least some of it was done by the hosts themselves, or by their friends, or maybe they just had excellent taste. In any case, nothing felt cheap. It might be inexpensive, but it wasn’t cheap, if you know what I mean. It didn’t feel as though the art had come out of a box from “Buckets o’Masterpieces For Cheapjack LandLords, LLC,” if you know what I mean.
There was a nice little writing desk, which we both ended up using. And over that, and in various other places around the room, were books...surprisingly good ones. Art, literature, photography, current events...all and more were represented. There was even a collection of photographs of remarkable women which Martha had been wanting to look at. She gave it a read while she was there and, I think, may decide to buy a copy for herself.
And, well, basically...put it all together, and it was a terrific little place to stay. And...we...felt...good there...
Which was, we knew, quite odd.
We shouldn’t have felt good. We had come all the way to New Mexico expecting to be sad. After all, our purpose was to say goodby to a dear friend. We should have been thoroughly depressed. Gloom should have been our dominant mood.
Yet...it wasn’t. We felt relieved, even serene...
And here’s the rub. It was a feeling that would increase with every hour we were there.
More to come.
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