To find out what Santa Fe’s definition of happiness might be, I approached dozens of strangers and asked how they achieve moments of respite, solace, or joy in their everyday lives.
The more I spoke to strangers about happiness, the lighter I began to feel. I was delighted by how often people had answers at the ready and comforted by how few found my inquiries intrusive or silly. Some answers bordered on hygge — as when a teenage girl equated happiness with piñon and cedar chimney smoke in winter — and some answers filled me with gratitude for whatever advantages life has handed me. An elderly artist named Sergio Moyano told me that he used to be a “crazy guy,” but that he thinks he’s a better person now. “At the end of the day, if I haven’t harmed anyone, and I’ve been a good man, and I’m painting and making my art, then I’m happy,” he said.
I was surprised more people didn’t mention travel as a source of respite, but the subject only came up with tourists — all of whom were thrilled to be in the City Different. It was through their eyes that I began to see what Santa Fe’s defining happiness qualities might be. A man from Long Island, who was making his third visit to Santa Fe, said that as soon as he can see the surface of the land change from the airplane, he breathes a sigh of relief. “The dry air and the mountains,” he said. “Everything just feels better here.” His wife said that unlike in New York, the museums here are quiet enough to peacefully enjoy the artwork.
It was two women who used to work in Washington, D.C., who really put things in perspective for me. Over lunch at the glass-walled, plant-filled Opuntia Café on Shoofly Street — where I sipped buttery-tasting green tea brewed to a perfect temperature, and fortified myself with a wholesome bowl of chicken and quinoa — they told me that in Santa Fe, no one cares if you are different. “In D.C., if someone asks what you do, they mean, ‘What can you do for me?’ Everyone in Santa Fe does their own thing, and everyone is cool about it,” one said. The other woman, who had retired to Santa Fe, said she fell in love with the city because it feels like home. “I lived in Mississippi once, and that felt like death. Santa Fe is the complete opposite of that.”
It seems that when we remember not to take Santa Fe for granted, moments of solace and joy are right in front of us. Jessica Crockett, owner of Chrome Salon & Blowout Bar, said she finds respite in the drive home along Highway 14. “Everything about the day falls away. I see deer, coyote, elk — and the road.” The most beautifully succinct reaction to my questions about happiness came from a cashier at Sprouts on Zafarano Drive, who bids each of her customers a “sparkling day.” When I explained my project, she leveled me with a steely gaze. “If my feet hit the floor in the morning,” she said, “then I’m royalty.”