Approaching the end of our first 6 month of travel, we left Florida, appreciative of the abundant wildlife, warm springs, cuban food, and friends and family we got to see during 6 weeks of travel in this large state. We also left with colds, fatigue, and briefly, with a loss of enthusiasm for travel. We realized this as we ran through St. Augustine and Savannah without any real savoring of the museums and history, taking few photos, and failing to chat up the locals as we usually do. We weren’t savoring much of anything except the food. It was clearly time to …just…stop…moving. We rented an affordable room for a week near Hilton Head Island, in an airbnb.com house on a golf course, with a tennis court and pool across the street, and a movie theatre and restaurants within walking distance. It included 4 hours of plein air watercolor instruction by the artist/owner Gert Palmer (her work featured) and use of her studio. Our plan: no driving for a week.

 It then rained non-stop for 3 days, forcing us to stay in the cozy house, sleeping late, reading, watching movies, drinking tea, playing with Lety, taking hot baths, and….not driving. Often, the simplest things provide the greatest pleasure. Happy Valentine’s Day, all ya’ll!

“You know you’re in love when you can’t fall asleep because reality is finally better than dreaming”. -Dr. Seuss

This is how to plan a small city: fill it with art and culture so it entertains like a big city, preserve the past, and keep it walkable. Most importantly, assign a full block every 2-3 blocks to a park covered with large oaks providing deep shade, fountains, seating, and amateur musicians.

Surround these 21 parks with gorgeous old homes (many open for tours or used as museums), build the Telfair Museum in 3 parts for antiquities and modern art, and offer a day a month (lucky it fell on our one day in Savannah) when all museums are free.

Add to that the “Central Market” with blocks of live music and outdoor dining, and a thriving waterfront….and you have a nearly perfect small city. The fact that it is also walkable and friendly makes it…a magnet for mannerly tourists of course!

Although there is suburban and industrial sprawl at the edges, the city’s historic district is pristine. We of course had to eat at ‘The Lady and Sons’, the Paula Deen restaurant, murmuring in our thickest drawls, “C’mon, Ya’ll, It’s time to eat!”, the signature TV welcome by the ‘Queen of Southern Cooking’. It provided a well-priced, delicious hot table, offering black-eyed peas in porcine pot licker, collard greens, and the lightest, tastiest fried chicken we have ever had, truly. Lots of other sides provided that legendary southern starch. Unfortunately, my desire for shrimp n’ grits, and hot biscuits slathered with butter and jam went unquenched as no menu items were available on Sunday. Still, it was the highest quality, hot table ‘Meat n’ Three’ we have had in the South…and that is saying a lot, especially as it was only a little more expensive than less generous hot table restaurants set in small cinder block houses throughout the rural South.

…and the desserts…..I just bet this is one of the primary causes for ‘The Queen’ to become diabetic:

“Ooey-Gooey Chocolate Chip Butter Cake”, the consistency of a warm butterscotch brownie, but chewier and more buttery with strands of bittersweet chocolate punctuating the sweetness. Perhaps the Peach Cobbler and the Banana Creme Pie were unremarkable, or maybe they just suffered by comparison with this signature dessert. My mother is a great cook, watches Paula Deen’s cooking show on TV and encouraged us to visit her restaurant. So Ma..could you whip up a pan of this for us…with a side of  insulin, please?

Leaving Mount Dora, we ambled north through the Ocala Forrest, happy to finally have found a campground in Florida with room for us. Unfortunately, we found out why it was relatively empty when a scary, roaring monster sound made Lety crawl under the front seat and made us flinch, even during daylight hours. We learned from the ranger, who said it terrified her as well until she came to understand the source of the sounds:bombing and strafing practice at the nearby military training ground. We would have figured it out when the equivalent of the Blue Angels started doing maneuvers atop the canopy of the hammock (forest) overhead. I recalled the thrill of those same screaming jet sounds when I was working in a skyscraper in San Francisco, and could see the Blue Angels at eye level. That screeching sound is just a horrible intrusion when you are swimming in a warm freshwater spring, letting your mind happily wander. Between the humidity, mosquitoes (we should have had a clue when the ranger told us the vending machines there dispensed insect repellant), and the intrusive military presence, we were happy to leave after one night to try another spring. Little did we know it would be our last Florida freshwater swim.

Our last Florida warmspring, Salt Spring, was high-walled all around except the opening into a jet ski, speed boater’s paradise; it was not the “small pond in the wilderness”, conducive to lazy wanderings of the mind, so we left without a swim, for the drive to St. Augustine.

St. Augustine, the oldest European settlement in the continental USA, changed hands several times since Ponce de Leon visited, followed by 22 other Spanish missions. The Brits invaded (thus the lovely masonry Fort to repel them) and ultimately colonized it as a British Colony. The USA deeded it back to Spain after the Revolutionary War in appreciation for Spanish assistance fighting the Brits. Ultimately, we took it back, but the Spanish Colonial architecture is dominant, and very well preserved. Lots of live music and tapas were available in the bars and restaurants, where they allow smoking (Aaaargh!) so…we didn’t drink and dine there, but instead enjoyed the Freedom Trail, following the footsteps of Andrew Young who was struck down after just a few steps at this spot in a civil rights march here.

We found St. Augustine, rich in architecture and tourism, comparable to a more sober Key West, with the emphasis on weddings, romance, and retail. We preferred St. Augustine Beach for the excellent Tango class with Honey Burton, followed by a Practica. No signs were barring dogs from the beach, so we had the great pleasure of watching Lety acting like a greyhound, streaking around the beach with the other dogs, right in front of the beachside Tango class. Sweet! For sure, dogs are granted immediate entry to heaven for their generous natures.

Also part of the Freedom Trail, right in front of our Tango class was the place of, “Wade Ins” in 1964 at what had been a beach reserved for “Whites Only”. Images broadcast internationally of peaceful demonstrators being brutally attacked for walking onto the beach, was one of the events that provided the motivation to pass the Civil Rights Act of 1964.

We said, “Adios, Florida..Hasta La Vista, Baby!” after leaving Amelia Island. It reminded us of Captiva and Sanibel Islands with fewer tourists and more high end resorts (Ritz Carlton…$3500/day). Even the federal post office, above, was inviting.We only stopped for a coffee at Fernandina Beach, and a walk, but decided it would nonetheless be a super nice place to anchor off.

We wonder more often now, which places we might like living off the hook on a sailboat. Unfortunately, hurricane season is long (May 15 to November 15) and given the heat and humidity, we wouldn’t likely be anywhere near our “home” if she was hit by a tropical cyclone/ weather bomb/hurricane during the season. So we head north to Savannah, GA with no nautical plans, just dreams.

Having driven across miles of Tropicana’s orange groves, one area in flower, scenting the air deliciously, we joined the local’s joke, “climbing Mount Dora”. Sitting 174 feet above the five lakes, it is one of the “high points” of Florida for many reasons. A one hundred year old village with well-maintained victorian homes and a host of artists, it is remarkably like Mendocino, CA, albeit with seaplanes taking off and landing on the lakefront.

Our favorite gallery: The Painter’s Daughter: Sumptuous! Fascinating! Gorgeous! Natalie Lovejoy, the owner of this gallery, should be staging for ‘Architectural Digest..With Flair’. Unique window styling pulled us in. Then we went from room to room, wanting to touch everything, and take photos of unique sculptures, home display, clothing art, all displayed with such verve; every surface was treated with a detailed eye.

No photos were allowed (that killed me….) other than her gorgeous hair (and self-portrait?) We encourage you to check out her blog coming soon, and visit her boutique: www.paintersdaughter.com. Throughout Florida, artists and merchants have told us that they make their annual income from the “High Season” residents, and then wait out the sleepy and hot, humid summers with reduced hours until the snowbirds arrive once again next winter, we hope in throngs to 331 Donnelly Street.

There was a large, well-respected, annual Art Festival here a week ago, but like many festivals we have ‘just missed’, we were happy to wander the village without the crowds. We spent a really nice day here eating and browsing, with lots of shady curbside parking, parks for Lety to run free, and time to chat with locals. Festivals make that pace impossible, and we are more often than not, happy to miss the crowds.

Sometimes traveling the US, you realize you can get a bite of a foreign country without leaving home. John Ringling of the eponymous Circus fame, collected an amazing amount of Italian Renaissance art, and set it all among classical gardens and a big pink palace, and he made it free on Mondays. He has one of three true copies of Michelangelo’s “David” as it was cast from the original sculpture. Why wait for hours in line at the Accademia in Florence, or see an imperfect replica outside the Palazzo della Signoria, when you can go see his beautifully muscled body at the beach, framed by swaying palm trees?

We were back at the Gulf Coast once again to meet up with our Santa Fe pals, and get a much needed Tango lesson at the Gulfport Tango Milonga. Irene, the beach babe, made us sit in delicious powdery sand at Siesta Key Beach. It is so fine it would feel yucky, like dust, if it weren’t so white. The ocean was about 65 degrees F., a wee bit colder than the freshwater springs we are used to and we had to scuffle our feet to move the sleepy manta rays out of our walking path, but it made for lovely swimming. Perfect weather for bicycling on Siesta Key, where we stayed outside their cottage in the shade of large banyan trees….very relaxing! Perfect for a big juicy kiss American style, too!

My cousin Ed in South Carolina recommended we return to the East Coast by way of the “Ag Trail”. We happily munched our way through the Strawberry Capital of Florida (Plant City) where a large gas tower painted like a strawberry overlooks the biggest sport field complex we have ever scene…Field of Dreams indeed! The Strawberry Festival takes over the county fairgrounds in 2 weeks; when we saw the snaking line dividers being set up, we were so glad we hit the strawberries at the peak of the season, and without the crowds.

We also decided to stay in the Ocala National Forest and visit Alexander, Juniper and Salt Springs to get in our last warmspring swims. Oddly, there were no signs warning of alligators, and every body of freshwater here has alligators we are told. Last week, two inebriated fisherman cast off at 3 AM at Lake Jenkins near here; their boat was found the next day but no remains have yet been found. These alligators really know how to clean up after themselves! Needless to say we not yet launched our kayak here.

En route we have found both the Potato Capital of Florida, and the best, yummiest, sweetest, biggest, and juiciest beefsteak TOMATOES, just like a vine-ripened home grown. We had them prepared with arugula, balsalmic vinegar, and fresh mozzarella at Katie and Simon’s. We also just ate them with salt, biting into them like an apple at the produce stand.

It must be the Donkey Capital of Florida as well, as we saw lots of ads at farms we drove by for miniature and full-size donkeys. Hmmm…where is the market for donkeys I wonder?

We are babies in paradise, with gracious Simon pouring a Francis Coppola 2008 Merlot, as we sit by the fire pit, under the towering oaks in the early evening, with stately Sandhill Cranes afoot in this Markham area. Steven’s cousin Katy, along with her husband, Simon, and their family have been wonderful hosts making this a very hard place to leave to continue the road trip. They provide the following: newfound friendship (with family members an even greater bonus!), travel information, new twin grand-babies living here, a hot tub, super comfy accommodations, cocktails, fine wine and delicious meals.  They also provide what I have been craving: lots of shade trees over the top of a mosquito-netted great room containing the pool, barbecue and outdoor living room. We are surrounded by tropical flowers and bromeliads outside and inside the net. How COOL (and shady) is that!  I haven’t been so comfortable since we entered Florida five weeks ago….bug bite free!

We have enjoyed the local farmer’s market, live music at their friend’s bistro that opened a week ago, tennis courts, tennis lessons, free access to the local YMCA allowing lap swimming and tango practice in their mirrored dance room. Although we have been “swimming with alligators” in the freshwater springs in Florida, somehow paddling our kayak out in the middle of a large lake feels a lot more risky in the event of a capsize. We have looked at several launch sites and then…chickened out. We enjoyed rescuing this big tortuga who kept wanting to cross the busy road; after several attempts to divert him, we picked him up and carried him to the other side of the road where he ate his way across the manicured lawn.

Instead of launching our kayak at Wilson’s Landing Park, we spent an hour following working canines, training as “Trackers.”  Daja, a 4 year old German Shepherd, with a Level I Classification showed us how she can track her owner’s scent 20 minutes after the track was laid. Another Shepherd, Spencer, performed at Level II Classification, by tracking a 40 minute old track left by a stranger. The dogs are trained to lie down with front paws on either side of a found object without touching it, in this case a flat piece of wood already handled by the person used to lay the track. Trackers must stay 33 feet behind the dog to avoid influencing the tracking process. Spencer is drug search certified and has a contract with Jet Blue to search the cabins and cargo holds of flights arriving in Orlando, FL from Venezuela.

The closest beach to here is New Smyrna Beach. Bizarre concept…beautiful white, soft powdery sand, the best in Florida, that is given to the highest priority…cars.  Crowd the people into small enclosures behind safety cones butt up against the condos to watch a steady stream of traffic in front of them…and hope their kids don’t get hit once they leave the water. Although 5 miles away in each direction there is normal beach access again, the center 8-9 miles of beach, has lane markers for cars. Free the cone people! Free the cone people!

I thought it would be cool to park on the beach, open our awning so Lety could sit in the shade outside while we played in the waves. We could even shower off the salt after our swim. NOT ALLOWED. No sitting outside your parked vehicle allowed….only driving. So,  we fat, immobile Americans no longer have to walk from a parking space to the beach…we never have to leave our vehicles at all…almost like looking at a video of beach, without the hassle of sand, breeze, sun, salt water, heat, annoying neighbors. Reminds me of the brilliant animated film “Wall-E”, where humans floated around on lounges all their lives, and in an emergency, couldn’t walk anymore from lack of use.  We went out and bought a pedometer the next day so we could be assured we were not becoming too car-oriented. 10,000 steps a day is so do-able, we used to do it just doing errands in the house and neighborhood. We also are bypassing Daytona Beach to find “walkable beaches” where we have the freedom to walk without fear of getting hit by moving vehicles.

I am trying to move into a cool spot. It’s hot or I’m hot. I can’t tell anymore in the heat and humidity of Florida. The dark restaurant parking lot is shared by another RV, a big one about 50 feet away. It is very quiet as usual here at night as the Cracker Barrel serves no alcohol, closes at 10 PM, and is always set next to hotels and corporate office complexes. I can see dimly inside of our van due to some security lights in the parking lot, next to an unlit construction site. Quiet,  I am just resting, until I hear a “Cra-a-a-ck!”, clearly a gunshot…very close, right next to our van. I feel the adrenaline push me into a fully alert state, ears attuned, brain engaged. “Don’t sit up!” I counsel myself, “Go to the floor!”

Should I wake Steven or would he sit up and expose himself to more risk? What should I do? What should I do? The floor would provide  extra barriers from all sides, lined with refrigerators, toilets, storage, and the engine. Shit! This is so scary! Without his hearing aids, he will likely sleep through this, but if I wake him he may sit up. What should I do? “Cra-a-a-ck!”, the second gunshot reports, just as close, right behind our heads. Oh No! Are we being fired on? Then I hear a voice, an adult woman or higher pitched young male, “Get the Camera, ….” followed by a name I don’t remember later. I resolve not to move, as the best course of action.”Cra-a-a-ck!”  The third blast of the gun. I lie there wondering if they killed someone or an animal and now are getting a trophy picture. Oh Crap! I am paralyzed with fear. Don’t move! Don’t move!

I don’t sit up until I hear a diesel engine start, and then recede into the distance. I hear three more, “Crack! Crack! Crack! …in quick succession, sounding perhaps a block away. Is that more shots being fired…or the cracking of ejected cartridges? I finally sit up and peek out to the construction site…dark, still. I peek out the other window toward the neighboring RV…no lights. I wonder if they are quivering in the dark like me? …or have a weapon drawn, ready to defend themselves? I want to go out and check to see if there is an injured animal or person there, but I am too scared.

At 6:00 AM, when I hear vehicle movement and the restaurant workers arrive, I go out and look around. There are no shell casings, no dead bodies, just an open construction site littered with piles of sand, cement, plywood, and discarded packaging. No clues as to what went on last night. No RV neighbors anymore either. Just a quiet dawn at the Cracker Barrel. Perhaps the shooting was just some teens showing off with weapons for the camera at any empty construction site. Maybe.

We both detest the idea of being, “sitting ducks”, senseless victims of crime. We are now reconsidering the wisdom of getting weapons training, licensing, and permits required to possess a firearm. Violence begets Fear, Fear begets Violence. An ugly cycle, but one we want to survive.

That 75 degree difference for the high temperature  in each locale today explains the good, bad and ugly of Key West, Florida. There is no other place in late January to play in the warm seawater, smell semi-tropical flowers, and lie in the guaranteed sunshine…that you can DRIVE to in the U.S.   That is the good part. 15 years ago when I last visited, it had only been “found” by gays, cuban exiles, and WWII Navy families that stayed on. I remember joining them for Bocce Ball in Higgs Park in the evenings. It was very, very quiet. Especially at night, when the only people out in the residential neighborhoods near Duval Street were dog walkers, men with great haircuts gossiping about the dinner party they were just leaving, and workers coming home from the bar and restaurant trade. QUIET. Locals now refer to that as “Old Key West”.

Beginning about  15 years ago, someone named Walsh brought in a lot of money and developers and the housing and hotel room stock exploded. Now there are 30,000 people here in the high season, only about 8,000 during the summer. Some of these are from the cruise ships which spew out tourists daily. What never seems to stop is the high pitched whine of scooters, the low thumping of Harley engines, the canned and amplified tour trolleys. Inebriated (loud) adults seem to have infiltrated all the formerly quiet neighborhoods.

It is a noisy, rowdy place with a dark side. Homeless drug addicts have also “found” Key West, and there is lots of panhandling and violence as well. We went to Duval Street (the main commercial drag) in search of a signature cocktail and live music, and instead found a crime scene, shutting down the block and the bar. At least 20 police officers were interviewing eyewitnesses to the stabbing, possibly a homicide.

The other attraction that never stops is perhaps a bit more charming…BIG COCKS EVERYWHERE!….that would be Roosters I am referring to, no matter what you were thinking. They crow all day, and all night in every part of the Island. They are so used to dogs, they don’t even step off the path at their approach.

My mother told me that my father remained in a homophobic rage their entire visit here, 25 years ago, because of the overt male sexuality and hysterical drag queens. There are still sweet and funny drag queens on Duval Street complimenting me on my goofy jewelry, but now they are next door to a brothel for straight men, and across the street from raunchy bars encouraging drunk tourists to dance on the counters, and “take it all off”. Feels a bit like Bourbon Street in New Orleans except there are galleries, designer stores, beautiful restaurants, and historic buildings tucked in between the “Spring Break in Florida” feel to the place.

 The landscaping has benefitted from the infusion of capital, and it is an eyeful. Bromeliads taking all their nourishment from the air, huge staghorn ferns (that die in my care in the SF Bay Area, thrive here. Flowers just keep blooming, seeming to have no season. Fan Palms, orchids just hang over the fence, lush and lovely.

We were fortunate to be here for the Quantum Key West Races: lots of spinnakers flying, Hobie Cats with crew hanging out in their harnesses, with great wind for the races. There were some gorgeous schooners out to observe the fun. Once you get out on the water, all the dross and ugliness drops away. Once again, we started talking about traveling the world by sailboat…just talking, not planning…. talking…for now.

We have been learning Argentine Tango where good shoes are crucial. I got a pair custom fit in Clearwater (near Tampa)…sexiest shoes I’ve ever owned! Hum Baby! We also went to a Ballroom Dance Supply store in Miami in search of men’s shoes. Wow! Dancing With The Stars! Amazing costumes!

Unfortunately, nothing for tangueros here as Argentine Tango has all the sizzle in the sensuousness of the close embrace dance itself. Women’s tango clothes tend toward black, formal, close fitted to show off the line of the body and the movement. A black skirt cut on the bias, a clingy top, and fabulous shoes are de rigueur.  One ballroom dance competitor arrived for a consultation with the 30+  years experienced staff members, former competitive ballroom dancers. She modeled her bright sequined, draped and with cut outs, high slit up the leg, amazing dress showing off her long fabulous gams; the consultants removed her necklace and replaced with big earrings, traded black tights for sheers, and began to construct a custom headpiece. We had been feeling guilty about spending $200 on each pair of Tango shoes, when we realized that the ballroom and latin dance folks have to bling up and fully costume. Ching-ching!

Miami Beach, Route A1A, took us past all the Trump Towers and designer stores lined up like Rodeo Drive in Los Angeles. On Shabbat, the Lubovniks, Chabadniks, and other jews with proscribed clothing rituals, strolled after services with the double wides…strollers that is. I am impressed by their religious devotion to rules that require long frock coats and big fur hats on their heads in the Miami heat and humidity.  It felt like New York for a few blocks. I wondered if these were visiting snowbirds, or residents. My intellectual curiosity was dimmed however by the $20 minimum parking fees. The plethora of South Beach art deco architecture is visible from the van anyway, so we moved on.

Little Habana is like travel to a foreign nation. The local park is completely jammed with older domino players at the picnic tables. Tito Puente, The Mambo Kings, and other Cuban orchestral music is seeping out of each storefront.

The cuban food is muy Exquisito, just like the eponymous restaurant (www.exquisitorestaurant.com) serving these shrimp filled, fried green plantain cups, Cuban black beans, and steak strips fried with lime and garlic…y muy barrato tanbien! We returned a week later to eat traditional cuban sandwiches (ham, pork roast, swiss cheese, mustard and pickles grilled on the planchon), only improved by thin egg bread, called the MediaNoche! Sweet, salty, melty, crunchy…what’s not to love about that combination?

We’ve also enjoyed the diversity of palm trees in Southern Florida. Fort Meyer was the 2nd home of Henry Ford and Thomas Edison. The downtown historic river area was delightful with a river promenade, lots of outdoor restaurants and bars, and a pocket park with palm varieties identified. Edison imported a “Royal Palm” collection and lined the streets, starting a city tradition. He also investigated the potential for many tropical plants from this area to be used for industrial purpose including light bulb filaments and tire manufacture. This sculpture list in reverse all the plants he investigated, then at night the shadow spells out all the varieties.

Serendipity at work, we spent one of our rare nights in a motel at a cheap Days Inn, only to find it came with some unique features in the enormous rear garden. This was a site they drilled for oil and up bubbled a mineral spring (with alligators of course…no place to run the dog). This simple corporate motel had grecian temples, sculpture, fountains and pools for guests to enjoy the 82 degree mineral water….and the hottest little dive Tiki Bar in town, plus 2 free drinks with our stay. We hung out with the local Harley riding couples and had a blast except for the payment exacted later…tons of mosquito bites.

We went to Sanibel and Captiva Islands to bike the nice bike trails and the Ding Darling Reserve as it is one of the great birding areas of the South. However, traffic, crowds, heat and humidity, and parking were repulsive, so we drove it quickly, not seeing any birds we had not seen already. We zipped on to Naples which was entertaining looking at how the ultra-rich live; the median income here is….5th in the nation. There was no street parking allowed, no curbs, no sidewalks, just wide roads, beautiful landscaping, and mansions. We enjoyed the galleries here, with lots of abstract artists represented, including a wonderful gallery of Wolf Kahn’s work.

Our best bird sightings have been the new “pigeons” of the South, and like pigeons, they are everywhere in small herds. They survive from Key West to Newfoundland, Canada. This weird, ugly duck that was not in the bird book because it is a hybrid of a Muscovy Duck and a mallard, is pimply, fearless, awkward, and HUGE, as the Muscovy Duck is the heaviest of the duck family. Hmmm, that is a lot more meat than a pigeon…dinner, ya’ll?

Now to the bugs. Biting Gnats? Sand flies? Mosquitos? Sand Fleas? Ants? Many varieties of insects to feed on your sweet flesh.

Steven=1 itchy bite

Sal=45 oozing, itchy welts and bites

…Just not fair. Okay, not as bad as a case of small pox (as shown) but itchy and distracting, especially on warm, humid nights. You can imagine how nice my chewed on legs look in my Fabuous New Tango Shoes….NOT!

 For so many reasons, we are fleeing the swamps and bayous of Southern Florida for 5 days in the Florida Keys. Biking, swimming, 3 days of watercolor workshop for Steven, perhaps some Tango practice in my new HOT shoes! Did I tell you how gorgeous black suede and patent leather piping look together on a 4 inch heel? Oh-La-La!

Thanks to cousin Katy’s recommendation – we were lucky enough to spend a three-day break lazing on a small, sleepy barrier island in Florida – St. George Island to be exact.  It’s in the panhandle, between Panama City and Tallahassee.  Whether foggy or sunny, the wind provided enough chop that kayaking was not a fun option.  Days usually included a nice walk or long bike ride in the morning, followed by the beach and reading for several hours, and then some good, local seafood in the evening.

The lighthouse on the island

St. George Island is 28 miles long and 2 miles wide; it is located 4 miles off the mainland.  With miles of undeveloped beaches, the local State Park and Campground is a rare find.  Though on one end lies a very exclusive, gated community with its own airstrip, the rest of the island is very laid back; down-home beach bum might be a better description.  There are many areas left undeveloped, and no building can be taller than 3 stories.  There are only about 5 restaurants/bars on the island, and it is a VERY dog friendly area.  Dogs are allowed on the beach and in most all of the restaurants. It was not uncommon for people to introduce their dogs first so we had to figure out if “Lucy” was an owner or a dog. Some of our favorite dog hang outs:

Eddie Teach’s – a great open air, dive bar, with a working wifi.  Open for lunch, dinner, and late-night bar with live caribbean music. We arrived in time for their weekly trivia game, and could help our team, “Lucy’s (the dog) Bunch” with the rock n’ roll trivia. They have a “happy hour” Monday – Friday at 3:30 – 4:30 with half price raw or steamed oysters.  Plus, they have a really good list of draft and bottled beers.  The oysters there were fresh and had a more flavorful, muskier taste than the Tomales Bay type we are accustomed to at home.

The town on the mainland before you head over the bridge to St. George is called Apalachicola and it is very cute  – a smaller coastal fishing town with more of the “Old Florida” feel.  House boats, seafood restaurants, some good history spots. We enjoyed a popular local hangout, Cafe Con Leche featuring local artists and blasting show tunes.  There, you can watch the local fishing fleet unload the catch of the day while you eat a slice of fresh vegan fig/almond saffron cake with a fig buttercream icing….are you drooling yet? No? Then accompany it with their house coffee, the “Deep Blues Blend” by the coffee company, Muddy Waters Coffee, sporting a logo of the great man playing.  As promised, it will “Wake Up Your Soul!”

Fishing boats in Apalachicola at the mouth of the Apalachicola River produce a whopping 90 % of Florida’s oysters and 10% of the nationwide supply.  Over 2.6 million pounds of oyster meat is harvested annually.  A perfect day to end our visit to the Forgotten Coast!