January 1, 2006 |
I was disappointed. I had checked into Loews Ventana Canyon Resort hoping for a room with a city view. The lights would be beautiful at night in the clear desert air, I thought. But my room was tucked into the back of the 398-room hotel, facing the Santa Catalina Mountains. I had arrived late on an October day just in time for sunset. The flaming red sky I saw from my window was nice, but I still craved city lights. Until the next morning, that is, when I walked out onto my third-floor patio.
April 8, 2001 |
As Sabino Creek wound down the canyon in come-hither curves, two boys dangled their skinny legs over a ledge as they caught their breath between dives. Then they stood up side by side and leaped into the deep pool below, surfacing with yelps of exhilaration. I briefly felt an urge to take the plunge, but I settled for a 10-minute dip of the toes. In a spot of such beauty-a place that turned out to be the highlight of a restful and relaxing weekend-I needed no other thrill.
March 5, 2000 |
My first golf lesson, from a macho pro at a Caribbean resort, was so miserable that I didn't play again for five years. I wilted under the broiling sun and the scornful gaze of my instructor, who ordered me to do this, do that--rarely disguising his disgust at having to teach a nervous neophyte instead of a real golfer who could appreciate his pithy pointers. I ditched the sport faster than I could yell "Fore!"
August 8, 2004 |
Within my first hour at Tanque Verde Ranch, I spotted a bright red male northern cardinal, singing melodiously, in a mesquite tree. Half an hour later, I saw hummingbirds buzzing around a feeder hanging outside the ranch's nature center. Later during my two-day stay, I added a Gila woodpecker, barn swallows and goldfinches to my bird list. You'd think I was staying at a bird preserve instead of a ranch about 25 miles northeast of Tucson's airport.
January 3, 2010 |
For decades, the faithful say, a 1-foot-tall crucifix has been granting the wishes of people in need. By the thousands, people have come to pray at El Señor de los Milagros -- Lord of the Miracles -- a shrine on the side of a one-story stucco home in a working-class Mexican American neighborhood in Tucson. People have come from as far away as Germany to worship at the shrine, but most visitors come from Arizona and Mexico. The carved wood sculpture, encased in glass, has been in the Romo family for five generations, said owner Pauline Romo.
February 4, 1996 |
No doubt about it, in Tucson they like chiles. From sweet bell peppers and mild New Mexico reds to picante chiltepins and fiery habaneros, chiles are integral to Tucson's gastronomic scene, which is fragrantly influenced by the cuisine of its southern neighbor, the Mexican state of Sonora. A visit to El Charro Cafe is a wonderful introduction to Sonoran-style cuisine.