by Elina Breton
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“So where are you guys going again?”
“Marfa, Texas”
“So where is Martha?”
“Marfa”
“Yea, Martha. When are you leaving for Martha?”
“It’s Marfa, with an F and on Thursday.”
“Ohhh, Marfa!… Why didn’t they just name it Martha?”
…
I’m pretty sure we had this conversation with Luke’s mom at least 4 or 5 times before we departed for the great land of Marfa, Texas. The name is not the only confusing thing about that little town.
Marfa is pretty much Manhattan and Western Texas blended together like a fine milkshake. There is nothing and I repeat, nothing, on the way to Marfa (well other than the Prada store art installation, which is also in the middle of nothing). It really is the middle of nowhere out there.
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Once you enter the town of Marfa, things change. At first it looks like any little Texan town with wide, flat streets and small houses with big porch covers. Then, you notice the super modern ones. The ones that look like they belong in Venice Beach. You also notice the hotel that was once an auto repair shop and the café with giant glass windows. Seeing these will make you a bit confused.
Rollin’ up into the middle of town, you don’t see too much. There’s a couple of people walking around and cars parked on the sides of the street. Don’t be fooled by this facade my friends, there are people. There are fancy people. You just have to find them like a game of hide-and-seek!
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Marfa has like 3 hotels, they are fancy, and they are booked solid. If you go into the big hotel on main street, the one covered in white marble tiles, you will find the New Yorkers. They’re wearing cowboy hats and big fancy coats that probably cost more than the bikes on the back of our car. These people know art. They know Donald Judd art, and they understand it unlike most people. Inside any of these hotels you’ll find young and probably very rich, fancy people, sipping drinks and having soft conversations. I have no clue where they go during the day, but by 5:45pm all of the restaurants in town (all 5 of them) have an hour long wait each. In Marfa, getting a seat at 5pm sharp is a must, going out to dinner and buying food you can’t pronounce is a must (the food is A+) and finally, people watching is a must. The second you leave a building and close the door behind you, you’ll be back in a quiet West Texas town and you will have no idea how the town works. But it does.
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I must say I enjoyed my time in Marfa. It was confusing and trippy. Trying to figure out what all the rich New Yorkers were doing there hurt my brain but it was a really cool experience.
It is honestly and unexpectedly one of the most artistic and unique places in the US.