The rain was rough on Highway 25. I gripped the wheel tightly to keep the car from sliding across the lanes, tried to ignore my frazzled nerves, and wondered when I'd reach the sunny patch of sky up ahead.

The music for this stretch of road could only be "Don't Stop Believing." The best part of roadtripping alone is singing cheesy music embarrassingly loud...and then hitting "repeat" about 11 times. Another constant on my playlist was the Jets' "You Got it All," which could easily be my signature karaoke song...if I actually enjoyed karaoke. What's not to love about a giant Samoan family making good in the 80s? I only wish I had downloaded "Crush on You" before this trip.

I have much better taste when I'm walking the streets of New York. Put me in a car alone and suddenly I debate whether I sound best belting out "Head to Toe," "Last Christmas," "Crazy" or "True Blue"...or simply seat-dancing to "Poison."

At Santo Domingo pueblo I wound around possibly going the wrong way...despite seeing the market tents from a distance I couldn't find an obvious path to a parking lot. I think I ended up in the vendor lot. When I pulled up to ask the parking attendants if that was OK, they simply marveled over my color printout of Google directions to the pueblo. I admit I was pretty impressed with Google's mapping application myself.

I was lucky to have waterproof hiking boots on, as the market grounds were flooded. This slowed my progress quite a bit and I only really examined about 1/3 of the market.

At Bernadette Coriz' stand however, I was convinced I didn't need to see more. Every seller had unique items, nothing looked cookie-cutter, but there was still a general sameness I couldn't quite identify. Something sort of stereotypically "Southwestern" screamed from the other jewelry tables. But Bernadette produced masterpieces.

Bernadette was round and cheerful, and worked alongside her small withered mother. She was from Santo Domingo, which wasn't the case for all the vendors; the Labor Day market was a huge 3-day affair, drawing Navajo, Apache, Zuni tribe members and more. She told me about her various houses, and travels around the country with her husband, who "used to be my boss...but you know how that goes!"

Wink, wink. Hearty laughter.

The gorgeous red apple coral three-strand necklace that I wanted most was far too expensive. It was basically a nicer version of a red coral necklace I'd bought in Ecuador for $9. With a prettier, variegated coral and more uniquely-shaped beads, it was a whopping $150. Like all the vendors, Bernadette was happy to bargain, but I just couldn't...despite her description of painstakingly making the beads. I settled for a gorgeous strand of chunky green serpentine for $65.

Finally I had my chance to try frybread, or even an "Indian taco," which is basically frybread with taco fillings. Several stalls lined the back of the market area, offering reasonably-priced treats. I regretted having that green chile cheeseburger earlier as I could not fit in another bite.

Most pueblos ban photography on dances, and some ban photos in general, but I called the pueblo office beforehand to confirm that cameras were allowed on market weekend. Out of habit or respect, very few people took photos anyway. I couldn't resist during the dances, however...the costumes were simply stunning.

Soon the stall owners started packing up, hours early. I went back to Bernadette, who explained that they had been dancing for rain, and since they'd received plenty, their leaders determined they should wrap it up and start over tomorrow.

<   previous      •      next   >