Transferring in Kingman for Albuquerque I meet a young guy, asking me where I am from. When I say South Africa, he replies shocked: ‘No S----, you have white people there?’ He is on his way to stay with his girlfriend, their kid, and her parents, and is about 17 years old. Later I see we are on the same bus. The whole night he and some people would argue about what is wrong with the US, but I decide to stay out of it.

We go through Winslow, Arizona, and I cannot get some line out of my head about sitting in a corner. At three the morning, in some small town in the middle of nowhere, the bus driver throw one guy off the bus, who was particularly vocal about what is wrong with the USA, and keeping everyone awake with his nonsense.

Just after dawn we arrive in Albuquerque, and I transfer to Santa Fe. There I get a taxi to the hostel, decide to get my own room and sleep till after 12. I walk to the centre of town with Cerrillos road, buy myself a fajita and some local beer halfway there. On the way to the plaza, just as the old part of town starts, I find the most amazing shop: Seret and Sons, in an old hotel, now with room after room of Tibetan chests, eastern carpets, furniture, astrolabes and other things interesting. The salesperson assured me that no one understands these ancient instruments, in 30 seconds I got instructions for making them at astrolabes.org. Be that as it may, I love the graceful instruments.

At the plaza, from where the state of New Mexico have been governed by the Spanish, Mexicans and Confederates and finally the Union, the mixing of these cultures with the native Indian culture is quite obvious, and makes for one of the most interesting towns in the US. I buy myself a tamale and lemonade from a little stall. Most buildings in the centre of town were built in the Pueblo style.

There are many museums, art galleries and touristy shops throughout Santa Fe. The next three days I walk though the different museums, art galleries and eat New Mexican food. At the Georgia O’Keefe museum I see her wonderful work, and an exhibition on modernist art with other artist like Andy Warhol. The Governor’s palace was the seat of power when the town was founded, now it serves as an interesting museum on the history of New Mexico. The museum of Fine Arts have a brilliant exhibition of the cartoons of Pat Oliphant, who unbelievably enough does not seem to come from the Cape!

Canyon road is littered with expensive art galleries. Every house in this narrow road sells some type of art, be it hyper modern, modern Native American, ancient Native American (as in 1000 years +) or Australian Aborigine. After a few houses I turn around, my senses overwhelmed and rebelling.

Between galleries with stunning Native American Indian pottery the tourist shops sell slip-cast versions, and a lot of other bad taste items. But a host of magnificent restaurants line the streets, and I have fajitas, enchiladas and stuffed chillies at places like the Blue Corn Café and Brewery, and The Pink Adobe, both to be recommended. I buy myself a cookbook from the Santa Fe school of cooking in the hopes of being able to take a bit of the New Mexican food with me.

My last night in the hostel I spend time in the common room, and talk to some of the people there. A woman from San Francisco and raised in Tel Aviv, a man from Louisiana, who after having been at least an oil-rig worker and a antique merchant sold it all, bought himself a huge Ford F350 double cab and now tour around. It seems he was in Santa Fe before the winter, but he does not like the cold so he recently returned from Guatemala.

He tells me about the South, and agrees that I should go to New Iberia, although he is surprised that I even know about such a small town. He assures me the people there are the friendliest in the world, and that I will love it. A few of them made dinner together, and one of the women gives me a piece of deep-fried chicken, something I only new from KFC, so I am glad to taste some home-made.

An Indian woman is busy with beadwork, and tells us that she won third prize at the recent ‘Gathering of nations’ Powwow in Albuquerque. I heard of this the Saturday I arrived in Santa Fe, and although I was not sure what it was, thought that it sounded quite interesting.

She danced in the ‘Northern plains women’ category, and described her traditional costume in great detail, about how some parts are from commercial tan hide, and some from brain tan, a tradition Indian process and from what she tells far superior. With all the beads the whole thing weigh in the region of 70 lb.

The next morning early I get the bus to Albuquerque at 7:30. I transfer again at Amarillo in Texas, Dallas and early in the morning I board the bus for Lafayette in Houston. I was tempted to stay, just for the conversations with the people in the hostel, and for the New Mexican food, but decide it is time to move on.