Florida, the Space Coast

Papa, little sis and I just spent a week in Florida, visiting Mum, who has been there for a month and is staying for at least another half a month (providing the launch date does not slip any more than it already has). Her satellite, which she has been working on for years and years, is launching out of Cape Canaveral. Yes, my mom is just that cool.



My computer broke in the Denver airport, which is why this post is late. But you forgive me, don't you?

 So, by "we just went," I mean we got back a week and a half ago. And by "Mum's still there," I mean she got back last night and is presently watching Sabrina in the living room (the remake with Indiana Jones in it). But better late than never, right? Enjoy the pictures; they're courtesy of mostly little sis and I think one from Papa.



Before this trip, I had never had key lime pie, Dunkin' Donuts, hush puppies, or seen a man fish for crabs with a raw chicken leg and a string. I had never played Scrabble on a covered porch in a thundershower, tasting pie and sipping coffee.


We found a family on a river shore catching crabs by tossing raw chicken legs, tied to a string, into the water. 

On the Banana River, one afternoon, we stopped at a waterfront park named for the manatees that flock off its shore, occasionally gracing us with snorts of their nostrils at the surface or a flick of a mermaid tail. Patience was necessary for a sighting. A grumpy old fisherman was catching bait in the shallows.



He used the word "critters" and complained about the giant cruise boats bringing in barracudas that blocked in the shade underneath and scared away all of his fish. A great blue heron stalked him, waiting for the small wriggling fish the fisherman would toss to him. The heron would spear the fish, rinse it briefly, and devour, to his audience's delight. The grumpy old fisherman was not as grumpy as he wanted us to believe.

This kid was so thrilled to be in the water. His obvious excitement made the day even more beautiful.

Florida was big breakfasts, grits and hot coffee, pecan pie, Dunkin' Donuts (our first exploration of that chain), fresh fish, and a Cuban influence of tostones and platanos maduros, beans and rice, pork and soffrito. We counted restaurants along the road, comparing it to home. There were flurries of steakhouses, New England-style eateries, Cuban bistros, bbq joints, and Thai/Japanese restaurants (why this combination? I don't know, but there were tons). The chains were Publix groceries, IHOP, Waffle House (as Papa says, "a step below Denny's"), Cracker Barrel (as Papa says, "a step above Denny's"), Sonny's BBQ.


Stopping for a little gator jerky...

In a fit of adventure, we stopped at the edge of the freeway and bought alligator jerky and boiled peanuts from a man selling them out of the back of his red truck. He gave us tastes of juicy watermelon; peaches, honey, and oranges also lined the bed of his truck.

The gator jerky, made by his uncle (I asked), was flavorful and lighter than beef jerky, milder than turkey jerky. The boiled peanuts (another first; a request from little sis, who was not too impressed) were soft in their shells, like peanut butter but with slightly more body.


Alligator jerky and boiled peanuts, bought on the side of the Flordia freeway.

Florida was orange juice and grits, palm trees and climbing vines, and hanging, ghostly Spanish moss. The humidity was suffocating, but not as bad as expected. Florida was spiders and mosquitoes, alligators and manatees.

It was ribboned squares on the beach where sea turtles had laid their eggs in the dark of night. The Atlantic was warm and gentle on white sand beaches and the air smelled of crushed flowers and salt.

It was a good adventure.