Marfa Marvels

It’s really hard not to skip over everything that happened today and just talk about where we ended the day. But that would be wrong. So here’s how we traveled from El Paso to Marfa. (By the way, today's entry was guest edited by the real professional writer, David.)

We hit the road under a cloudy and cool (high 70s) sky. Unlike last night, when the streets were grimly deserted, they had apparently trucked in a load of actors and set designers; people were walking about, stores were open, and the abandoned look of the night before was gone.

About an hour outside of El Paso, traffic had thinned. Realizing we were only a few miles from Mexico, we decided to see how close we could get without ending up on some kind of government watch list. So we ditched I-10, and headed down a parallel road, the smooth pavement turning to dusty gravel. 

From here it was through a sea of cotton fields until we dead-ended at an intimidating berm. The end. No border patrol. No helicopters hovering overhead. No gunshots. Just everything looking very abandoned except the thriving cotton crop. Slightly eerie, but I think that had more to do with my imagination than any actual strangeness.

A few U-turns and countless potholes later, we were back on the freeway, happily cruising southeast until I noticed…that I was nearly out of gas. By the time we got to the metropolis of Sierra Blanca (metropolis = two gas stations and two, maybe three restaurants), the car was begging for fuel.

And so were we. 

Across from the station we noticed Curly’s BBQ, a delightfully ramshackle joint that specializes in anything smoked, seared, and spicy. 

Teresa, the owner, plied us with delicious Texas treats – a brisket sandwich for David, and a Curly’s special for me. That’s a fire roasted poblano pepper covered with brisket and melted cheese.

Do we look content? I think David's camera app takes pictures of my aura!!

Teresa and her husband were with the Border Patrol (where, by the way, we’d been stopped again outside Sierra Blanca), and she regaled us with quite a few stories about what goes on along the border. Short version: drugs, bureaucracy, drugs, bureaucracy, illegals, bureaucracy, illegals on drugs.

Filled with food and tales, we set off again. David settled in for a long nap, which he needed since apparently someone in the hotel had snored and kept him up for several hours the night before. He conked out as I sped along I-10 and then veered off for Route 90 to Marfa.

It was along this stretch that the car turned a milestone of sorts. Check out the odometer reading. 

Oh, and here’s the speedometer reading at one point. The roads are so flat and deserted that this is not a difficult speed to achieve. I consider this my homage to Ruth Wadsworth Murphy.

We passed miles of pecan trees, which introduced a strong green color into the landscape. 

By and large, it’s greener around here than I expected. We still had a huge sky that dwarfed the land but the clouds were no longer so disorderly.

 About 10 miles or so outside of Marfa, we passed the Prada store.

Actually, this is an art installation, truly in the middle of nowhere. It’s so abandoned that David could lie in the middle of the road while I shot his picture.

Here’ a 360 degree video. I hope you can view it.

Soon enough, we arrived in Marfa. Here’s the main intersection. 

We headed for our digs for the night, the coolest place I think I’ve ever stayed. It’s called El Cosmico, a set of variously sized vintage trailers, tents, and tepees that have been outfitted in a hip, funky way. We are in the Imperial Mansion, a two-bedroom model with a lovely kitchen, pink bathroom, leather sofa, and front porch. 

You park at the office and walk a pathway to each home. These photos really don’t do it justice. You have to picture how completely barren this area is to appreciate how cute a randomly gathered set of mobile homes can be.

Why Marfa? David suggested seeing it. It’s the hipster, New Yorker ex pat town in Texas where artists come to lose or perhaps find themselves. It’s Williamsburg, New York, with far more land than people, and I can hardly wait to explore it tomorrow. Tonight we'll be meeting a friend of David's for drinks but that will have to be told in the next blog entry.