ST: Day 40

No miles on the bike. A few walking around town.

Marfa is a quiet and unusual place. On one hand you have a big art scene, one you may find in a large city somewhere, and on the other hand, Marfa is mostly a small ranching town that has a border patrol office, a few restaurants and a city hall. It is a mix of modern and old. A place where people in tight jeans and curly mustaches live with cattle ranchers and border patrol officers. A place where on one side of the street you have a post modern looking home that you may see in Seattle, and on the other side is a small diner that has been closed down for what seems like a long time, with bushes overgrown and brick and concrete starting to crumble all over the sidewalk. It is a contradiction in and of itself. The town is an art exhibit on its own, the buildings displayed with a lonely type of purpose and presense and astute absence, something that is there but at the same time hidden. 

I stopped at Martha’s Burritos for breakfast. Mathias told me to go there, because to him, it was the best burrito he’s ever had in his whole life. The place is mostly in a home. If it wasn’t for the sign out front you would probably walk by and not even notice it. The inside is a small room with a few wooden tables and chairs connected to the kitchen which is separated by a half door. Homemade salsa verde sits in a large bowl alongside a second bowl with jalapeños. On another table there’s a big jar of water and fresh brewed coffe. The walls have pictures of the owner, a middle aged waman with short black hair and a big, kind smile. She’s posed with a few celebrities at the restaurant. Kevin Bacon. Matthew McCanaughy. Some others. 

“Hola, amigo.” The owner says when she sees me. I’m looking at the bare bones menu deciding what to get. There’s only a few, simple burrito options. 

“One egg and chorizo burrito, please.” I say. 

“Uno?” She asks, raising one finger into the air. 

“Yes, please,” I say and take a seat at an open table. 

I drink good coffe and wait for my burrito. A border patrol officer walks in. He has a black mustache and sports a neatly pressed green uniform. A flashlight and hand gun dangle from his belt. He orders his burrito in Spanish and talks with the owner for a few moments. They laugh and smile but my Spanish is mostly non existent so I don’t have a clue what they are talking about. Another man of Mexican decent walks in and joins in the conversation and orders a few burritos. He too has a black mustache but his is bigger than the border patrol officer, even though he’s several inches shorter. 

My burritos comes and it’s really good. Homemade tortilla grilled to perfection stuffed with egg and chorizo. I smother it in the salsa and eat it quickly. Mathias might be on to something. This burrito is pretty great. 

I pay and say “Gracias.” The owner says some other things in Spanish and says “Adios amigo” which is the only thing I understand. 

I walk around town and take some pictures before heading to the laundromat to do some laundry, something I haven’t done in about a week. The town is cool and I pass the St George Hotel. They have a small bookstore so I walk in to have a look. There’s some books on Donald Judd’s work, who was the artist most famous in Marfa. There is a foundation here in his name and many galleries host a lot of his work. He’s a pretty famous artist and was known internationally for his works involving minimalism in constructed objects. 

Here’s a link to his Wikipedia page if you’re interested in learning more about his work. 

I did laundry at the Tumbleweed laundromat, a fitting name considering the events of yesterday. There was a coffe shop next door and I sat there and drank coffe for a little while looking at my maps and trying to plan out the next few days. By my estimates I should be arriving in El Paso in three days, and then I’ll be in New Mexico. It’s taken me a few weeks to get through Texas and it will feel good to arrive in a new State. 

Unfortunately it seems like all the exhibits are closed on Mondays so I wasn’t able to look at any art. That’s okay. Walking around town was satisfying and I have no problem lounging around the hotel eating Doritos and watching bad television the rest of the day and night. I have no shame.