And we're off!

It has been a busy couple of months, and there is no sign that it will be slowing down any time soon.  Family funerals and weddings, personal trips, Young Women camp and a church youth conference, a high school reunion...Some people would suggest simplifying the schedule, prioritizing some things and cutting out the rest.  Nonsense!  Sometimes the best thing to do is lean into the busy, and with that slightly masochistic perspective we dive into our first summer adventures.

One of the things the southwest is famous for—or notorious, depending on your perspective—are the missions.  Thick-walled adobe structures, remnants of the Spanish colonization of the New World, dot the mesas and dry creeks of the desert west.

There are three near El Paso, part of the Camino Real (Royal Road or King’s Highway) comprised of trails and trade routes that was the primary route for the Spanish colonization of what is today Texas.  San Elizario was established as a presidio, or military fort, in 1789.  Nothing really remains of the original fort; the chapel was actually built in 1877.  A large, chalky white building in the distinctive rounded Traditional Spanish style, the walls are massively thick for both cooling and defensive purposes.  It’s still an active Catholic church.  Out of respect, we didn’t take pictures inside, even though there was a pair of incongruous giant pink and blue plaster angels that were practically begging for a photo op.

To be honest, the rest of the historic parts of the town were more interesting than the chapel itself. Besides a couple of signs, the chapel had very little information about it.  San Elizario is a rather unprepossessing place; like many small desert towns, it is little more than a stretch of dusty, wind-scoured buildings with sun-faded paint.  The crown of San Elizario is the historic district, a handful of stone and adobe structures dating back to the 1800s.  The mercantile has some of the original stone walls that have been refurbished over the centuries; a nearby building has the massive wooden doors of the original chapel.  At the mercantile—which pulls double duty as a thrift store and the local military veterans museum—the proprietor was proud to point out that one of the oldest streets in Texas ran just outside the door, and how San Elizario was established as a town over 400 years ago.

Rick was taken with the veterans museum, a collection of photographs and memorabilia from families in the town.  It was simply done, just walls of pictures and lovingly mounted uniforms and medals, but it was impactful.

My personal favorite stop was the jail.  A gnarled old gentleman with a cane and a magnificent beard showed us the original steel jail cells and told us stories of Billy the Kid (William Bonney, for you history nerds) and the Salt Wars.   Seriously, the best part about any touristy place is the people.  One, the docents and hosts are generally dying to talk to someone; their job is very boring otherwise.  Two, they always have the coolest stories to share.  A generational resident of San Elizario, Mr. Sanchez was simply delightful, and it was fun hearing the history intermingled with his own personal opinions about the anecdotes and his family’s history in the town.  His name also made my Book of Life-loving heart happy.

Side note: remember those flooded salt flats I dragged the kids to last summer?  Those are actually part of the salt lakes at the center of the aforementioned Salt Wars, which were a political turf war over the rights to mine the salt flats at the base of the Guadalupe Mountains. Another side trip turned history lesson. Boom.

When we were done trundling through history and dust, we headed 5 minutes down the road to Licon Dairy.

Licon Dairy is a stable-to-table working dairy farm with a petting zoo and questionably placed restaurant that specializes in burgers and asado cheese.  Armed with reasonably-priced animal feed, we descended on the goats, ducks, and miniature donkeys in a tornado of petting and squeals.  The mini donkeys were a general favorite, but the ostriches also won a few fans despite trying to swallow entire hands. Rick developed a friendship with a rather belligerent macaw.  The cows, perhaps aware of their ultimate fate thanks to the smoke drifting over from the grill, were somewhat standoffish.  Or maybe they just preferred hay to dried corn.  The more stubborn of us persisted until we patted some cow noggins.  After a brief stop at the playground, which was delightfully stocked with the deathtraps of an 80s childhood, we headed back home.

They were just small adventures, but they ticked all the boxes—local flavor, practically free, and not my couch or Walmart.  If I’ve learned nothing else from spending my entire adult life on the move, I’ve learned that life is more fun when you get out and do instead of sit down and don’t. Sometimes they’re underwhelming, and sometimes you find a gem.  The girls are already asking about returning to Licon Dairy, and there are two more missions on this stretch of the Mission Trail.  Hopefully they’ll be a little more exciting than San Elizario.  Personally, I’m keeping my fingers crossed for another Sanchez.