Finding Peace and Quiet at El Cosmico, Marfa

About this time of year I get a little antsy. The rush of the city and the daily grind of work start to really get to me. I start searching for places to escape to. Somewhere away from the mundane, planned, hurried pace of life.

The moment I stumbled across El Cosmico on the Web, I knew, that was the place for my next escape. You see, when you are looking to get lost, West Texas is the place to do it, and El Cosmico takes you even a step farther into your planned drop off the map.

The newly opened compound filled with refurbished vintage travel trailers is situated in the middle of  the splendid nothingness that is Marfa, Texas. I’ve visited the tiny town filled with zany locals and artistic transplants before and knew I’d be back. El Cosmico is down the road from the courthouse, next door to the Border Patrol, and way far out from any hotel/motel/b&b experience you’ve ever had.

Upon arrival my husband and I were greeted at the main house and then given a little tour of the El Cosmico grounds, which is situated on several acres of pure West Texas desert (cactus and all, watch out!). There is a little walking path out to the half-dozen or so trailers and a full-sized teepee. The property manager showed us around our home for the weekend (the 1951 Royal Mansion) and we were handed over the keys and let loose. You can’t drive up to the trailers, but instead you tote your bags, coolers, etc. from the parking lot with the help of bright yellow wagons.

After making a quick trip to haul our stuff out we began exploring our surroundings. The cozy 35′ trailer was nicely redone, but not overly kitschy. There was a small kitchen with a brand new stainless steel, drawer-style fridge and stove/oven. There also was a nice sitting area with leather couch and small table.

It was half swank boutique, half roughing it. The toilet was inside, but here comes the roughing it part…..there was a outdoor shower  just outside the backdoor of the trailer. This was a fun adventure to try out on the brisk February mornings. And as we found out, the small water heater in the trailer really was enough to last for one quick shower, so we had to stagger. But really it just added to the fun.

There was just something about hanging out in an old travel trailer in the middle of the desert that was just freeing. In the evenings we wound up sitting out side sipping on Lone Star beers and eating chips and salsa watching the sunset. At night we would chill on the couch and venture out to peer at the beautiful stars.

It was truly a unique experience. We stayed warm with help from a few space heaters. But, just a word of caution….there are is no Air Conditioning (at least not in the trailer we stayed in). We didn’t need it in February, but I’m not sure what people will do in the warmer months. Also don’t go expecting Wi-fi, a TV, a clock radio, or a microwave. But you do get a couple of bottle of Dr. Bronner’s soap, a bag of Big Bend Coffee, and some nice candles for mood lighting. Remember, people you’re roughing it…..sort of.

El Cosmico isn’t for everyone. It’s probably better that way.

First 3 Random Words Post

Bus, dripping, Determination

He dreaded this time of day.

The final bell rang. He liked to think of it another screaming reminder of how pitiful and lonely his life really was.

Climbing aboard yellow school buses was a daily ritual that all the dorks did. The jocks, cool kids, or those otherwise gifted with some sort of wheeled transportation got home in other ways. But Harold wasn’t cool, or gifted, or anything.

He slid across the green vinyl seat, his faded jeans swishing to the corner, where he crammed himself as close to the window as possible.

“Just maybe I’ll disappear.”

He cracked open a cold Big Red and took a big swig.

The whole place smelled sour with dried puke and sweat and hot plastic.

Harold shut his eyes. Maybe the red darkness would somehow make it all go away.

Three minutes passed. Maybe 20. Sweat had slid from his scalp, down his cheeks, under his chin and was dripping down to his favorite blue T-shirt, making a little round wet spot on his chest.

It was only April, but summer in Texas was determined to show up early.

The lurch of the bus awoke him and jostled the Big Red can out of his hand. Its foaming pink contents erupted on to his jeans.

“Smooth move, retard,” someone said with a giggle.

He wanted to die and take all of the rest of them with him.