New People and Old Places: Matt Kruse
My traveling partner and I had ended up on the impoverished side of Albuquerque, N.M. We had caught a ride from an amazingly annoying woman; she offered us a place to stay at her aunt’s. But her aunt never came home. So, we decided, without much choice, to walk the streets until we found a vacant lot to sleep in.
This probably wasn’t the best idea we could’ve had. The city is blocked to the north by the Pueblo of Sandia and Boxed in on the southern end by the Pueblo of Isleta. But on the east are the Sandia Mountains. These mountains would’ve provided plenty of space to camp safely and given us something positive to do, rock climb. The Sandia Mountains offer pitches from one to 10 and accommodate all climbing abilities. This, however, was not on our minds.
To the west of the city is Petroglyph National Monument. The monument has over 25,000 images carved into rocks and boulders called petroglyphs. Native Americans and early Spanish settlers made these images over a 12,000-year history. The park also has five volcanic cones. The entrance fee is only a one-dollar on weekdays and two dollars on the weekends. Unfortunately, there is no camping allowed at the monument, which left my traveling companions and I at the mercy of the big city.
The neighborhood was jumping. Fourth of July in a desert city is no holds barred. The laws allow some rather impressive explosives. The sky was filled with bright colors as loud pops and crackles filled my head. So many fireworks were going off a smoky haze layered the neighborhood. Families were out in front of every house. Most babies huddled close around their parent’s legs in anxious awe. The children were screaming and running with sparklers throughout the street. The women gave us questioning stares. The men just stared hard. We were the only two white people I would see all night.
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