Showing posts with label vacation. Show all posts
Showing posts with label vacation. Show all posts

Monday, September 7, 2015

Detroit, home of Robocop and Eminem. That sounds like a great horror shortstory.


In our part of the world, the year can be divided up into two seasons. Those happen to be listed as winter and construction, both of which vary in length and intensity.

During winter one must contend with the possibility of encountering snow and ice on all of the surfaces. But these tend to be passing conditions. Where as during construction season, those surfaces onto which you so gingerly ventured out, may be missing entirely. Hey, that road that leads exactly to the destination which you are so desperately trying to reach? Well now it's a 10 foot deep trench that stretches for blocks at a time.

Free on street parking though. Come on down.

We made the mistake of visiting during the first or second worst season for travel, depending on how you reckon such things. I have some disdain for traveling in 90 degree weather when I'm being forced to navigate an ever-changing gauntlet in a new city.

I would like to take this moment to say “Fuck you Siri, in all of your incarnations.” You know that asshole who swerves across 3 lanes to turn? Yep, probably listening to Siri.

For our collective birthdays this year, it was some how decided upon that we would visit Detroit. I missed the committee meetings on this one, so I cannot explain the rationale behind the choice to you. Yeah. Detroit. The murder capital of the universe! . Happy birthday to us!

Do you want to see urban decay and street crime? Well come to sunnyish Detroit! The Crown Jewel of the Rust Belt. Shells of houses that have tasted the kiss of Arson? Check! Miles and miles of decaying concrete? Got that too! The shattered remnants of what America used to be? We're having a sale! Make sure that you stay on the highways that run 4 lanes in either direction and have a posted speed limit of 55mph(which everyone ignores and opts for the more conventional 70+).

Detroit is a modern wasteland known for the ruins porn in a way that has moved past trope and into cliché. Rotting infrastructure that is so beloved amongst urban explorers. People who explore the remnants of our once mighty industrial base and stick their noses into the crumbling past and document what has befallen the American Dream. People who aren't me.

But hey, Detroit is a place that exists and surely they have some gems. So we did our research and came up with a list of places to do and things to visit – I think. I'm not sure that our thinking was straight.  After all, Detroit is one of the cities that I used as the basis of Jefferson(Chicago being the other) - the fictional necropolis in which I set part of my zombie series.  Good times.

We were mostly there to see friends and find some of the sights that might be worth seeing.

As a species part of our shared humanity seems to be intertwined in the appreciation of food. Many cultures are, at least in part, defined by their cooking. So you will forgive us if food is one of the driving factors in our travels. We jot down any interesting restaurants that we encounter and store them for future consideration.

Detroit had several such entries. So we met in a place called Fall's Sports Lounge. I don't know who picked that one. On google they rate between 3 and 4.5(out of 5). And are supposedly renowned for their hamburgers, the best in Detroit(a lot of ground to cover). I love hamburgers. I did not protest.

I won't review them into great depth. The food was good, especially the fries, but I cannot imagine that they were the best in all of Detroit. We have several joints here in my hipster-infested burg that are superior to the fare. I don't know if I would ever sample them again – not a dis, It's just that there have to be other places to try in my rare visits to Detroit.

Enough of food. I can eat well here. On to activities that my current home town doesn't offer!

This was in our hotel room shower -




I have no Idea what it is for.


The Detroit Institute of Art. A few months back, when the City was going through bankruptcy, the DIA was on the chopping block. Until the State of Michigan stepped in to save it. Good call Michigan. The DIA doesn't really stack up to museums in grander cities such as the Chicago Art Institute. But it is still a wonder to experience. The founders collected some amazing artifacts from around the world and houses them in a wonderful warehouse of ingenuity. The building alone is worth visiting for the architecture. The treasures within are priceless.

The campus of Wayne State University seems to be a trendy and revitalized part of Detroit, this is almost a facade, or maybe an Utopian island. A mere handful of blocks away the city seems to fade back into it's seedier side with the graffiti and abandoned houses. We accidentally found ourselves wandering through as we searched for a place to park.

 
Wayne State home of this African Batman mask!

Onwards!

I love me some books. I may have mentioned such a sentiment before. On par with food, I am a bookstore tourist, and have been since high school. In fact, I first visited this place back when I was in around 11th grade. That was at least 20 years ago. And the place hasn't changed much since(though I believe that it has become more cramped and packed with printed goodness.

 
Here there be Treasure!

John King books... where to start? First, it is entirely a used book store. All four stories of it. With books overflowing the shelves and lying in stacks and boxes around the floor. In fact I suspect that they have several annex buildings to house their stock. The store is so big that upon arrival a member of the staff will hand you a map. Imagine the library of a large city, and that all of those books are for sale. Everything from ancient classics to the most recent smut. I found a full two shelves dedicated to carving duck decoys – just to give you an Idea of what this place is about. Boooooooks!

Joygasm!

There is the wonderful book must that permeates the air. I don't like aftershaves or body washes or what-ever. But if someone would make an old book cologne, I think that I would wear it daily. (Note, I won't be searching google for this product, I have spent enough money this weekend.) Days could easily be whiled away wandering the shelves of John King. Sadly we took less than two hours before moving on.

One of the best finds was This - 

Oh yes, I am reading it now!

There. The rest of the day was spent eating, hanging out in the hotel room and drinking bourbon homemade wine. All activities that need little mention.

Saturday, November 1, 2014

Well, I went somewhere and then came back. Amazing.


Greetings and hello from someone who is spinning his wheels! Lemme check my backlog, yep, it's been damn near a six months since my last post. And by that I mean over six months since my last dropping of wordage. Here's a longish one. And if you're lucky, I might even write some of this while imbibing.

Now? Now you get nonsense and gibberish. Worth waiting for huh?  Pull up a chair and listen to the tale of something I did back in June.

I visited Portland Oregon in June(over the solstice to be precise). I figured that I had been wingeing on about the North West, now was the time to actually pick up and visit. First, buying airline tickets is a pain and rather different than any of my previous life experiences. This was my first solo visit, I say this as a man in is early 30s, who has graduated from college with a degree in useless. I have proven myself to be a maker of poor choices.

Now let me enlighten you!

Potland is a city known for food and hipsters. A city that is cool and progressive. I wanted to sample the fare and experience the culture. I invited a couple of friends along, but that fell through. So I was off to do so myself. I have a mild case of the travel bug, but the infection is suppressed by my burning desire to save money and pay down debt.

First of all, buying airfare is not at all like buying a ticket on the train. I've purchased train tix in the past, and all you do is say “this is when I want to leave, here is my money.” Bam, you got yourself a ticket to ride. Not so with the airlined arts. There is a good deal more security, for obvious reasons. Not to mention the greater number of decisions.

Train? Get on and find a seat. Any seat. Plane? None of that sir, you sit in your assigned place like a peon! Oh, you are first class? Step this way your majesty, and sit in your assigned seat!

I went the Google route when purchasing my tickets. As I thought at the time, why not, it's google, google knows all. I am no longer sure that this is true, and wonder if it would have been easier to use a different site. Something more specialized. We live we learn, or we fail to keep living. I think I'm of the second group.

I went with a big no-no and split airlines, Delta out and American back, but the purchases were made through the site of the former. Hah! Crown me king stupid!

My shopping experience ended up with an angst-filled call to American Airline's help center – what must have been their version of the classic “which one is the any key?” exchange that haunts the IT world's nightmares. As the poor lady on the other end tried to tell me that this was a lot like purchasing train tickets(in Europe). Lady, I am a loser and a shut-in, I have not been to Europe for the riding of their rail system.

We eventually got it cleared up and they gleefully took my money with a good chuckle about the dupe that they just rolled. But I had my seats and was ready to go. And so I did. Wednesday evening, after a full day on the job, I boarded the plane that would take me across the enormous stretches of the midwest all the way to the coast.

With my backpack(you can travel light when you accept that you're only going to wear one pair of cargo shorts[yes, I am the type of dork who wears overly be-pocketed legware – I am wearing cargo pants now, ladies calm yourselves as you think of my pale legs being clad in the seductive sway of the baggy practical garment] all weekend) In hand I left my city behind. Swoosh! At least until I landed for my lay-over in Minneapolis. Then there was more of a flump, but only after the less describable sounds that one makes while devouring some rather disappointing airport Kiosk pizza.

All along the way, severe thunderstorms were forecast all across the planes, and we actually re-routed over the Dakotas in order to avoid the worst of the maelstrom. Actually I was excited about this. Thunderstorms are a blast to watch(from a distance) and I was itching to see some from 35,000 feet. The awesome power as the lightning cuts through the clouds and then stabs the earth, all from Zeus' throne.

Well, fate, thanks for the giant steaming crap on my chest you German hussy. I got the middle-seat, and a neighbor with a giant head. I only caught glimpses of the light show, but the images are still rather strong in my mind.

I don't sleep well when I'm nervous, and new experiences leave me feeling nervous. So I had been operating on around 4 hours of sleep(if I was lucky). Oddly enough I didn't feel tired. I was just going forward, not quite on auto-pilot. Maybe I was wired on adrenaline. We landed in Portland around 11pm local time. I had been awake since around 3am Portland time. I just wanted to check into my hotel – nix that, get to my hotel.

My first hour in Portland involved waiting for a hotel taxi that never came. Followed by Another first. I took a cab to the hotel. Whee! Shit that expensive, for the amount of distance covered. I paid less for my bus ticket between Portland and Eugene, a trip that was around 24 times longer. Do I sound like your dad yet? Close the door, we're not heating/cooling the neighborhood! Yeah, I didn't climb into bed until around 1am. Long day.

I was awakened the next morning by a rousing call of “Fuck you mother-fucker!” and a door slamming. Just kidding, I barely slept. Largely due to the door not quite closing and letting in the traffic sounds, combined with my being in a strange room, and worrying constantly about missing my bus the next morning. Yay stress!

On the upside, I was awake early enough to go out and enjoy that fine Portland cuisine! I hit up the free continental breakfast. Oh yeah, I'm living large!

I grew up in Alaska, and the first thing I noticed was the scent of the city. Pine trees, It smelled right. Like home. That was my first impression of Portland, that it just smelled and felt right that morning. The weather was gorgeous and sunny, and the forecasts had promised temps in the mid 70s all weekend. I lucked out with that.

All that was left was to catch a train downtown to find my bus to Eugene? Why am I going to Eugene instead of staying in Portland? Well, a friend from college offered me a place to crash for free. And to be honest I was more excited to see her than the cities/countryside. All I needed to do was get there.

I really liked the Portland train system. Buy a ticket, get on and sit down. How traveling should be. Ahem. But I got to sit back and get a quick tour of the train tracks of the city and get a feel for the place. I loved the geography, but the city itself was much larger than I had imagined. Honestly, I need to stop imagining the future, as I ALWAYS get it wrong. I came away from Portland wondering if I would ever actually want to live there.

Using the netifiationsuperhighwayoftubes back home I worked out about where I needed to be to catch by bus. Mind you, that 'about' isn't really even a kissing cousin to 'exactly'. An equation which lead to my walking around in circles as I waited for the crapptappular GPS in my phone to pick up a signal. More wandering as my phone decided that signals are overrated. All of which killed my further plans of visiting the famed Voodoo Donuts. On the upside I got to see Hipsters and hippies. I think.

Spoiler, I went to Voodoo Donuts down in Eugene. Alas, I only tried the Voodoo Doll. It was good, but like just about any other jelly donut. You go for the experience I suppose. Maybe I could have gotten something wilder, but there were too many choices and I was getting cash-poor at the time.

The Willamette valley reminds me a bit of East Michigan that has been penned in by mountains. I expected more rolling hills I suppose. Maybe I was in the wrong part of the state for that.

Eugene is a good sized college town that sits on the southern edge of the Willamette valley. It has about everything that anyone would need. All of the modern amenities of shopping, plus a small town feel. I liked it immediately. I spent the next couple days sleeping on a futon in my friend's basement as she showed me the ins and outs of her adopted town. And as she did chores. Man, that was so like our friendship of years past, down to the visiting of the local thrift stores. I flirted and she laughed and told me nothing would ever come of that.

The city seemed to be speckled with mountains and trees and held a laid-back vibe that kind of gave me the creeps. Maybe I'm just too midwest.

I spent solstice wandering around downtown Portland and ineffectively(the only kind I do) flirting with my friend. Can't help it(or didn't want to), her company brings that side of me out. She teased me some, and I deserved that. We hit up the science museum(was free day) and then the foodtrucks, all while popping in and out of shops. All in all it was my favorite and most cherished part of the trip. Even the part where the grungy hippie in the grungier blanket tried to sell us (grungiest?) granola.

The trip back? Well that involved a 5 hour delay out of Portland. To combat the boredom I considered buying, and then consuming, a bottle of wine as I wandered Portland's airport. Only the certainty that I would have broken out in a rather poor rendition of Sexy and I know it – possibally one without my beloved cargo shorts. I was already late enough on my return trip, without further contemplating a well earned night in the klink and no doubt some worldwide youtube fueled kleos.

Instead I just walked around in circles, cursing American. Then there was more disappointing pizza in Chicago(Really Chicago, Pizza Mecca of the universe, you should be ashamed), as I got myself switched over to an earlier flight. Finally walking into a wall of humid air and getting hailed by a local police officer who was wondering what I was doing walking away from the airport at 10pm.

Don't quite know how I feel about Western Oregon, but I would like to go back. Next time I'd like to take charge and get a car so that I could wander at my own pleasure.

Wednesday, July 24, 2013

New Mexico Part the First.


Well, I'm finally sitting down and hammering this out.  We took the trip back in Mid-May.  It is now the second half of July.  Sure some/most of the details have faded, but this country is built on people making strong statements based on half-remembered impressions. 

This was my second trip to the Land of Enchantment. I shall say now that, for me at least, Enchantment must be a euphemism. Though not on a scale that one would expect with the crossover from “Genocide” to the milder sounding “Ethnic Cleansing”. But not so tame as how “Auto-tuned” has come to mean “covering up for a talentless singer.”

The first time I ventured forth to the American South West was back in the fall of 2007. Though it was something new and relatively interesting, I don't generally have good memories of the experience. That was the year that Robert Jordan died. Actually, I was at my folks house in Albuquerque when I read the news. That was a kick to the gut, moreso than the death of either my Uncle or my Grandmother. Horrible as that might sound, but in reading his stories I feel that I knew him better than either of my estranged, introverted relatives.

We ventured out somewhat, but mostly I was there to keep my mother company while my dad was on a trip back up in Alaska. What this translates to is that, I hung out at the house all day while she worked, and then I hung out in the house all night while she napped on the couch after work. We are not exciting people. We did visit the used book stores that Albuquerque – that is a dorkly tradition that I started in high school. New city: visit used book stores. Mission Fucking Accomplished.

Aside from that we hit up a few tourist traps and sampled the local restaurants. I hung out on the couch and read and wrote(which was what I did at home). I had finished my first two zombie novels and was working on the second pair. The air conditioning went out in the first couple days after a lightning strike. This wore harder on the mom than it did me. I have been living without Air Conditioning for years, and the midwest has some brutally hot and humid weather in the summer time.

Largely I avoided going outside in general. I hate hot weather.

This is what I recall most about my first adventure in New Mexico. That and our visit to Taos. Taos was a trip in and of itself. If you ever goto New Mexico, be sure to visit Taos. If you can skip over the rest of the state, all the better.

Now to the more recent adventure. The folks have been after the sister and myself to come down and visit for years. They offered to pay the airfare, so we took a long weekend and went on down. I spent the weeks leading up to it by psyching myself up for a huge panic attack! Getting up at 4:30 in the morning and then flying? Wheeeee!

I really don't want to do this. I hate heights. I hate being trapped in public spaces. I hate heights. I really don't want to do this. I hate being trapped in public spaces. I really don't want to do this. I hate heights. I hate being trapped in public spaces. Over and over those thoughts wore on my mind. Until I realized that this was a stupid attitude. Flying most likely won't kill you, it's just a hugely uncomfortable drag that I would rather avoid. That helped, and after the fear freaking out passed I actually rather enjoyed some aspects of the flight. I love looking down at the landscape below. There is nothing as awesome as a bird's eye view of the world.

Texas sucks.

Aside from a few sweaty-palm inducing jolts of turbulence, the flight down went smoothly. But damn, I do hate when an airplane drops several feet and shudders about like a Fundy thinking about the naughty bits on a human body. After a rough patch on the approach to the Albuquerque airport, we set down and were ready to go.

Firstly, New Mexico is brown. I don't mean this in the sense that the state has a bevy of sexy Latin folk meandering around, though that is fairly true. I refer instead to the landscape, with the largely unbroken drab sandy soil that is spotted with green bushes like some sort of rash. I tried to like Browntopia. But as a resident of the evergreen midwest, I could only ever keep coming back to the question “Who would want to live here?” I am not terribly fond of the city I live in. It does nothing for me. But I would gladly take it over Albuquerque.

The folks met us at the airport. This is to be expected. But what is a narrative without a few obvious points?

Nearly entire city seems to have jumped on the Adobe theme. Even the McDonalds. Which is cool. It gives it an exotic flavor to us out-of-towners, and to be honest visiting a city that isn't exactly like the sprawled hole that I just left feels nice. Sometimes it seems like too many towns across the country have become carbon copies of one another. Seeing a place with an identity of it's own is refreshing. New Mexico is not the midwest, and I don't see any reason that it should look like the midwest. Or vice versa.

We had breakfast-lunch at ChileRio. It was Fantastic. At least through the filter of not having eaten yet that day. Else, I'm sure that I'd need to downgrade my review to merely Good. The folks like it enough to have gone back several times, and to have brought their offspring along. Whatever, it was food and I was hungry.

Now the vast sight-seeing extravaganza could begin.

Albuquerque is a vast sprawl of a city. It spreads over the valley floor and is cut into a grid. I was not at all fond of it. I think I've mentioned it before. The only real homey sight for me was the belt of green that clad the Rio Grande. Notice that I did not add River to Rio Grande. I am just that sophisticated.

Our first stop on the itinerary was the petroglyphs on the edge of Albuquerque. For those who don't know, they are a series of figures carved into boulders on the side of a mountain outside of town. The weather was pleasantly sunny and warm, so we engaged in a small hike up and around the hillside to see the marks that long centuries of past generations had left behind. In my mind these crude carvings aren't great achievements in human art, but they are rather cool still. They are a mark of the past and to be enjoyed.

The coolest part of this hike(and all of the others to follow) were the signs that warned visitors to remain on the trail. Else beware the wrath of the rattlesnakes. Sweet! I so wanted to see a rattlesnake! It was a crushing blow that I didn't even catch the faintest jingle of a rattle. Stupid lofty dreams!

After the Petroglyphs the folks dragged us to a housewarming party at one of my dad's co-workers. He had long since decided to 'introduce me' to one of said coworkers. A pretty redhead. I do like pretty redheads. But I do not like people trying to prod me in a direction. I dig in and resist. Especially when they cannot answer a simple 'why is this a good idea?'

Sometime back the Mom took it upon herself to try and reintroduce me to her best friend's daughter(a very pretty girl). We had played together a few times as kids. I got mulely. Because that is how I do. This is just an aside. Feel free to read and judge.

The reasoning behind these shenanigans damn well better be 'she's pretty and you're both single. Thus a perfect match!' This cannot be the extent of our commonalities that might connect us. Though I do like pretty redheads. I viewed the encounter with the same nervous trepidation that have with all forced social meetings. I did not look forward to it. Thus why I am still single.

All in all, it was moot. He never got around to introducing us.

Well, it was a long day. I decided to crash out around 9:30 PM local time. Weak, I know, but I had been running for about 19 hours by that point. Much longer than I like. And tomorrow, Taos and the Earthships!

Have you done much traveling? I liked the trip to Taos the first time. Sure, the way is grey, but you finally get into the mountains. We moved away from Alaska in 1997, and I've not seen anything larger than a hill since. I forgot how much I miss the beauty of mountains – some of that is why I yearn to move out to the Pacific North West. Alaska lite.

The downside of the weekend was going to be that I was spending it in the back seat of a car. Sight-seeing from the back seat of a sedan is not really sight-seeing at all. Mostly you get one angle. Worse yet when that angle revealed the drab, post-apocalyptic wasteland that is New Mexico.

I must say that Taos makes for a pretty trip. Relatively speaking of course. The highlight was the Rio Grande, which is a sparkling green that high up. It was even more fantastic in the gorge.

Segway time!

The gorge was just that. A deep cut in the rock face where the river has worn through for hundreds of years. I think that at the apex it is some 450 feet deep. We got out of the car and decided to walk the bridge. I don't like heights. But I tried walking out on the bridge anyhow. Self-inflicted pain is the best kind.

I made it somewhere between an third and halfway across before I decided to turn back. My legs just got squiggly and I decided that I really didn't enjoy what I was trying to do. What bothered me the most was sudden gaps in the guardrail between sections. They were maybe an inch, two tops, wide. But it was enough that my hand lost contact with something solid. My brain didn't like this. My feet reversed course and walked us back.

The mom and sister made it all the way across, and laughed at us.

Earthships! I how I natter on about them. I want one. This is why I spend so much talking about them. A house that heats and cools itself and also grows some of the food the residents need? They seem so solid, built with tires, earth and concrete. Enough to repel any invaders. This is an Apocalyptic novelists' dream come true. Honestly, writing zombie stories has been made so much easier by the years I've spent daydreaming about surviving the Apocalypse. I admit, part of my brain is always devoted to that line of questions.

The mom asked over and over what we wanted to do on our visit. My only goal was to roadtrip to Taos and visit the Earthships. Now, that's two and a half, or three hours of sitting in a car for a man who does that for a living. Not really appealing. But, Earthships. For $7, you can take a self-guided tour of the compound. And for a couple hundred dollars you can even rent an Earthship for the night. While we weren't down for the former, we were up for the latter.

I am a cynic and a pessimist, but only when it doesn't get in the way of my mindless and boundless optimism(read this as I play the lotto and hope to win). This is a funny mix of personality traits, one that involves no little amusement on my part. After weeks and weeks of build up, I was wary that the self-tour might not live up to my expectations. I mean really, we just flew to New Mexico and drove up from Albuquerque. I've been waiting for this for weeks! Months even, as I have long daydreamed about taking a long cross-country tour that involved visiting the Earthships as I passed through the South West.

I had been waiting for this moment. And was of course disappointed. It's a running theme in my life. The tour involved a gift shop, a video that you could easily find on the internet – not to mention the fact that, if you're into Earthships enough to visit the landing sight in Taos, then you know all of that already – and the rest of the welcome center. After that, you're free to walk around the parking lot and take the 'self-guided tour' of following the ropeline.

If you were to take the tour as a form of exercise, then you'd just be as well off walking back and forth from your couch to the fridge. Tweren't much there. We didn't even get to go inside any of the other Earthships. Just the visitors center, which is set up as a visitor's center. Very un-houselike and dull. Darker than I expected too...though on second thought it is largely an earth-sheltered house. All in all, I think that the Visitor's Center was a bit like trying out Lucky Charms cereal for the first time while only eating the drab cardboardy bits that most people discard.

Seeing the outside of Earthships from a distance is Lame at best. I have a few other choice words that would fully express my feelings, but I don't feel like getting that base.

The highlight of the tour was the pretty blonde girl. Not only was she a beauty with a dazzling smile, but she was pleasant and knowledgeable, as well as borderline fanatical about the movement. Then again, she was working as the greeter in the Earthship visitors center, so this is to be expected. I myself, though devoted to the idea of personally acquiring an Earthship and experiencing the lifestyle, am not so interested in being part of a large scale social movement. Sure, it seems keen. I just don't have the personality or the energy required to bring folks into the fold. I am not an evangelist or used car salesman. I'm a dorky wannabe hack novelist with a negative charisma stat. Come to think of it... my talking about Earthships here is probably harming their cause.

Sorry hippies.

You see how many times I wrote Earthships in that last bit? Well that's about what my folks had to endure. Truly mine is a Rain Manesque obsession.

Though I do dabble with the idea of settling down with a few like minded friends and forming a community of homesteader types. This usually seems too damn communesque, hippieish, etc. for my liking. Not to mention I don't think I have a core of friends who would be remotely interested in such an endeavor. And I'm really not good at making new friends. Though it is all a pleasant fancy. Maybe I'll just weave it into a story that I write.

Despite all that, I still want an Earthship. Maybe after I pay off my student loans and hook up with a girl that one of my relatives thinks I should meet. I of course will be stuffing my lotto winnings into a mattress by then, so the expenses won't be an issue!

Back in town, we got out of the car only to have lunch. We played a game that is a sign of dysfunction in my family. I call it “Where do you want to eat? I don't know. Where do you want to eat?” Oh the Passive Aggressive Midwesterners are on vacation, how cute! But finally we decided on a local(as opposed to chain) place that was down town. Taos, is an art colony. Which means that it is full of A) hippies and B) tourist traps. Some of the latter being run by the former.

I think we finally went with a place called The Gorge.

The food was delicious. They get my seal of approval and I am willing to pimp them here... to all 3 people who might actually read this. I had my usual, burger and fries. Can't go wrong with that. I would go back(if I were in Taos again).

More later.