No time for camera's we'll use our eyes instead

We left fairly early in the morning from Never Never Land to head to the Keys.  After looking online for some information, we found a couple of State Parks that looked promising, so we started driving.  When we arrived at the gate, the admission to the park was three dollars per person.  Matt decided to ask if there was a better beach close-by, since this one seemed pretty narrow.  The attendant begrudgingly looked farther up the highway, pointed, and said, “Yup, Bahia Honda, about thirty miles up.”  We took her word for it and up we went.

When we arrived, the beach there really wasn’t much better than the one we’d just left from, and unfortunately, there was a weather system moving in.  We decided to make the most of it anyway.

Bahia Honda is a narrow, shallow beach, so you need to walk a solid 200 feet out into the water before you’re even waist-deep.  We splashed around for a while, but then the clouds started rolling in so we went for a stroll and in search of dried up sea life.  It was my goal to find a conch shell to take home with me.

On the three-mile stroll we found pieces of reef, seashells, broken sand dollars and starfish, and a sand dollar that looked like it had been blown up like a balloon.  We were jumping around on old reef bases when Matt spotted a big shell.

It was a conch!

Immediately I ran over, picked it up, and as fast as I snatched it, a giant tongue-like thing stuck out and almost licked me!  It was alive!

Unfortunately, it’s a felony to take anything alive from the beaches, and I couldn’t bring myself to shuck the thing right then and there, so I put it back in a sheltered rocky area and carried on my slightly-less-merry way.

Just for good measure, on our way back onto the mainland, we stopped at a little local dive where I ordered probably the most amazing clam chowder on the face of the earth, and Matt, in a fit of vengeance, ordered the conch chowder.

We showed that conch for being alive.

We finished off the meal by sharing some of their “World Famous” key lime pie (we had to, being in the Keys and all – even though neither of us really like key lime).

The drive through the Everglades was probably the darkest drive I’ve ever done.   There are no houses, no streetlights, and hardly any other vehicles on the road.  The only refraction of light I were the “Panther Crossing” signs that our headlights illuminated in the dark.

After a four and a half hour drive north, the time was ticking by and the temperature was dropping.  We’d brought a tent, airbed and lots of blankets because we planned to tent for our last night – but we didn’t expect it to be 45˚F (around 7˚C).

We decided to take a time-out and stop for some Thai food in a town nearby Sarasota.   It was 10 pm and we were the only people in the restaurant.

This place was legit in every sense of the word.

To start we got the fried tofu with duck sauce, and the steamed edemame beans.  I got the pad thai, extra spicy, and Matt got the chicken and broccoli with vegetables and steamed noodles. 

Everything was delicious and authentic.  So authentic that the chef, a tiny old Asian lady, came out after the meal to check on us!  We thanked her and began going on and on about how wonderful the meal was, when she piped in unexpectedly after only having said, “Ya!” and “Ok good!” so far.  She told us, in her best broken English, that she doesn’t speak or understand much English at all, so she had no idea what we were saying.

Like idiots we decided we would talk louder and mime what we’d said to her.

Talking louder and making idiotic hand-motions does not make you easier to understand, it just makes you look like an asshole.

We thanked her many times anyway, bowing repeatedly, like those bobbing birds that drink water from a glass.

Like I said, “idiotic assholes”.

For the next hour we drove up and down the main street in Sarasota checking out sleazy motels, calling sleazy motels, and getting side-eyed by local crack-heads and hookers.

Can you feel my affection for Sarasota yet?

By the time we chose a motel, we were both frustrated from searching for a motel so late, exhausted from driving, and a little somber, knowing Matt was leaving the next day to go back to New Jersey.

We called in a fairly early night so we could get up early-ish and check out the area.

Sarasota is pretty much just like every other small, tourist, snow-bird fuelled town in Florida.  It’s got a quaint downtown, near the beach, with lots of upscale shops, restaurants and cafés.

Miraculously, Matt had heard that the creator of Whoopi Goldberg’s favorite macaroons is based right here in Sarasota’s downtown circle.

The bakery had more varieties of macaroons than I thought was humanly possible.  But at two dollars a pop, I’d only be getting one… and a coffee… and a pain du chocolate.

A short hop, skip and a jump away was the beach.  It was wide here, more similar to Daytona.  It was hard and flat, too.  But what made it less enjoyable than the previous beaches was that it was roughly 37˚F (3˚C).

We picked up seashells, our fingers turning bright red, then purple, then blue-ish white, in the process.  When we were satisfied with our nautical treasures, we decided we’d better get going.

The drive back to Orlando as cheerful as it could be, since we knew that we’d soon have to part ways again.

We found a nice little earth-friendly café to stop for a bite to eat before heading to the airport.  We warmed up with some soup, chili and grilled Panini’s.  It was sunny and even though it was cool we ate outside because it was full-blown cold in New Jersey.

Before I knew it, it was time to go again.

Back to MCO.  Back to my life as the only 20-something senior in Florida.  Adventures would need to be put on hold for now – or so I thought.