After a breakfast on Santa Fe's plaza so bountiful that even I, a big eater, could not finish all of it, we began to wander the city. We marveled at the age of our surroundings, particularly notable for a U.S. city. Santa Fe is the oldest capital in the country.
I was impressed by the simple beauty of the church of St. Frances of Assisi which placed faith above the building where it was celebrated. We were also impressed with the professionalism with which a raging street person was ejected from the narthex. We visited the Loretto Chapel with it's miracle spiral staircase leading up to the choir loft, breathtaking in it's simple majesty. Our last stop was the oldest church in the nation, the San Miguel Mission. All three felt spiritual without the garish trappings I've seen in many of the cathedrals I've had the good fortune to visit, whose ostentation is ironic considering the vow of poverty taken by the church's leaders and servants.
We strolled through the streets, occasionally stepping into shops which held an almost bewildering assortment of Native American jewelry and crafts, then headed off to the institutions on top of Museum Hill.
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