Woke up to a brilliant bright day; got a relatively early
start and walked the length and breadth of Old Town,
stopping in many of the tchochke shops, much to my chagrin,
but buying next to nothing, which pleased me to no end.
Old Town is kind of insignificant, to my eye, offering
neither much historical interest (yeah, a few old buildings)
nor the full offensive experience of a big tourist area.
Carol had a coupon for a free pair of turquoise studs, one
per customer, no purchase required, at one of the shops
(courtesy of one of the tourist books), but even though we
went in that particular store, she didn't bother to get any.

Decided to high-tail it out of town, but walking back to
the car, we bumped into Julia's, right near the intersection
of Rio Grande and Central, and it was 11, so we had an early
lunch, which was copious and very satisfying.

We asked for samples of their green and red (the menu
claims that the green is very hot) - I found neither
particularly hot, but both fairly pleasant. I had the
Indian burger, a 6-to-8-oz gristly meat patty (no problem,
I don't mind gristle and need a source of glucosamine and
chondroitin anyway) topped with green chile, cheese, guac,
and salad stuff, served in a giant fry bread. I asked for
extra chile and hold the cheese; it was pretty good.

Carol had another combination, pork tamale, beef and
potato taco, and cheese enchilada, with red sauce. The
food was as good as Church Street, but less fancy and
less money. A side of rice, however, was nasty in a
completely different way (tasted like Minute).

No booze at this place, so I had hot cider, and Carol had
coffee, which she didn't care for.

And so off we went to Petroglyph National Monument, where
despite her one bad knee and one terrible knee she hiked
heroically up one sizable hill and along two small trails.
We saw some terrific petroglyphs and encountered an
engagingly goofy new-age-type-guy park ranger who after
giving a little talk on the meanings of the glyphs launched
into a diatribe on the evils of the modern world (some of
this I agreed with, but if I'd told him how much kerosene
I waste every year, he'd have thought me the spawn of Satan
or something).

It was getting on in the day, so we decided to pass up the
famous tram up Sandia Peak and proceed on to Santa Fe via
route 14, a very nice back road with some fine views. On
the way, we came to a bar called Kokopelli's; Carol used to
be very into Kokopelli, so we decided to stop for a mid-
afternoon snort. She had the house margarita, which was
palatable and not too expensive, and I had Cutthroat Porter,
rather lighter than I had hoped, but pleasant, with a
pronounced coffee tone. Back onto the highway, which soon
began to afford fine views most of the way to Santa Fe.

We checked into the Old Santa Fe Inn, which has a pretty
ideal location, one block south of downtown. Carol's buddy
Marnie at Diplomat Travel had carefully picked this place
for us, and turns out she was spot on. It was perfect. Our
room was on the small side but very pleasantly appointed,
dominated by a large piece of furniture that multiples as
a closet, chest of drawers, and entertainment center. The
bathroom was attractively decorated. Windows that actually
open (yay!).

Friendly staff. Milk and cookies in the afternoon.

It was a nice evening, so we walked a mile down Galisteo,
then over to Maria's New Mexican Kitchen, which is notable
for offering 120-odd tequilas and 100-odd margaritas.
Carol's house 100% agave was lackluster, so for her second,
she had a Bulls-Eye; made with somewhat more prestigious
brands, which I forget, it was quite a bit spicier and more
savory. I had a flight of anejo tequilas:

Cabo Wabo, which I always wanted to try but would not buy
because of the silliness of the name, was the most ordinary
of the three, relatively light in color and body, with a
quite standard generic nose. A pleasantly sweet opening, a
touch of smoke and agave spiciness on the palate, with some
chocolate sneaking in midmouth and on the finish. It was
okay, nothing to write home about.

Don Julio was also fairly light (not quite as light), with
a pleasantly spicy green nose and a vegetal, peppery palate.
It was also okay.

Herradura had apparently more oak, as its color was richly
golden and promising. An alcoholic nose sort of blew off a
bit, replaced by an apricottish aroma. Complex, interesting.
A little herbal and fairly chocolaty on the palate with a
nice long finish and a spicy kick.

The very fresh chips and rather hot salsa would have been
almost enough of an accompaniment to satisfy us, but we went
on nonetheless with guacamole (nice and chunky, lots of
onions and a bit of jalapeno here and there), a bowl of
green chile stew (very porky, but I thought both potatoes
and beans were too much; Carol liked it), and an appetizer
sampler: on one full-size platter a pork tamale (good meat
in a cooked-enough but kind of bland cornmeal, served with
a cup each of green (made with roasted chiles, medium hot)
and red (made with dried chiles, mild but rather bitter)),
some of the famous house ribs (nicely smoked but with too
much of a sweet but otherwise pleasant red-chile-based
sauce), and a tiny salad; on another full-size platter a
pair of taquitos that tasted as though they had been made
with lamb, and a huge pile of very cheesy nachos. We were
too full to consider either dessert or another round but
instead toddled back very slowly back to the hotel.