Today I am a velo flaneur.
A bicycle flaneur yielding to the siren call of knotted byways. Wonderful. Wanderful.
Instead of hustling up a mountain on two wheels, one of my favorite exercise routines in Santa Fe, I decide to wo/ander. To wonder about the spiderweb of (mostly dirt and gravel) roads near my home, unfamiliar roads, many of which I’ve never walked or ridden or driven before. I allowed myself to wander, handed the reins to curiosity and let her pull me to and through exotic neighborhoods, up and over panoramic peaks, in and (eventually) out of a labyrinth of roads I wouldn’t begin to re-navigate without the aid of my bike computer.
A velo flaneur. A bicycle flaneur yielding to the siren call of knotted byways. Wonderful. Wanderful. A transcendent pedal peppered with dismounts, short interstices to gaze or inhale, to curate the the porcelain figures arranged beneath a parade of queer arches ascending a stepped adobe wall, to catalogue a terra cotta washboard lane snaking toward the bluebird dome,…
Aboard a bike or a sloop or a well worn pair of chukkas, there’s no finer midday meal than a wo/ander.