It was a short drive to the little town of Tubac, which is only about 20 miles north of the Mexican border. Or, one might say it is about 32 km north of the Mexican border: "Interstate 19, which is entirely in Arizona, is an oddity among U.S. interstate highways. I-19, which runs from Tucson to Nogales, is the country's only continuous highway that lists distances in kilometers, rather than in miles." (Read more here.) An excellent description of the town can be found on its website: "Welcome to Tubac, a historic destination for the arts! Tubac features over 100 eclectic shops and world class galleries situated along meandering streets punctuated by hidden courtyards and sparkling fountains. A full day can easily disappear wandering amongst this wealth of painting, sculpture, ceramics and photography, as well as unique regional fashion, leather, crafts, antiques and jewelry."
Unfortunately I have no photos of Tubac Territory, a delightful store featuring turquoise-inlaid mesquite furniture. A fellow passenger on the airplane told me about this shop, and he was quite right in extolling its many treasures. (Expensive treasures, I must say.) Nor did I get a photo of Feminine Mystique Art Gallery, where I almost bought a painting but decided it would be too difficult to get it home. Such a variety of excellent art work and crafts occupy that small gallery, in so many media!
On our way back to my sister's house, we had to pass through a U.S. Border Patrol checkpoint. A German shepherd was walking between the cars, apparently sniffing for drugs. The guards appeared to be very relaxed and in good humor. The one nearest our lane was whistling and did not seem to be paying any attention to our car. There was a stop sign, but "Mr. S." (my sister's companion), decided the guard didn't care, and after slowing down, he kept driving. Suddenly the guard was all business, and yelled at Mr. S. , and asked him, "Don't you usually stop for stop signs?" Mr. S., who has a very strong sense of humor, stuttered a little and then casually said, "No." The guard wanted to know where we live, and where we were going, and who was in the car, and then he got over it and we were on our way. My sister told me, "Mr. S. likes to live on the edge." Rather!
Another day, we drove through part of Tucson Mountain Park and Saguaro National Park. My hosts had visited the area before, but not via the specific road we took this time. It curved and twisted through the rock formations and abundant saguaro before bringing us to a lovely viewpoint. I don't think Mr. S. had anticipated all the curves, but he didn't seem to mind.
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@scribblingramma beautiful pictures, Arizona "IS" full of cacti of all sorts
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They are beautiful, in their own prickly way.
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