Florida 4: Bradenton Beach
Nov. 15th, 2003 10:19 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lwood[Written 13 November, on my Palm, at the cafe mentioned herein.]
I left them at something like 10:15, with a slice of Key lime pie for breakfast. My stepgrandfather was much better behaved this morning, but as far as I care the damage has already been done: the next time Florida will have a chance at me may well be my grandmother's funeral.
I left Sarasota slowly, driving west into the heart of the city, then turning north on the Tamiami Trail, US 41, a road that extends, as the name says, from Tampa to Miami. Just south of the Bradenton city limits, Florida State Route 464 cuts west to the Keys.
People who have never been to Florida may only think of the Keys as a trailing dribble of islands leading to Key West, the proud Conch Republic. This isn't actually so: in reality, a "Key" is any of a number of sandspit islands that encircle Florida. To get to them, one must cross the Intracoastal Waterway, a trench once dredged by the Army Core of Engineers, but beyond them is the Gulf of Mexico—the Sea!
Bradenton Beach is a small town of itself, where 464 meets 789, the Gulf Coast Road -- you Californians can count it kin to the Paciic Coast Highway, California State Route 1 as it threads a way along a rocky coastline. The Sea bounds them both, albeit with different names, but the largest difference is that Florida is quite a bit flatter!
When I reached the Sea, I turned right, north, along the coast. Less than half a mile up the road was beach access and a couple tourist traps—it's from one of these that I write this entry, but not until I visited the Sea.
It's warm, here, the Gulf a proteted cove of the warm side of the ocean, itself warmed by the sun which is only now getting tolerable here in mid-November. The sand is soft and white, ground shells against the shore, and liberally sprinkled with larger specimens. You can extract the shells from the sand like panning for gold: take a handful in your hand, swish it in the sea, and the sand wafts away, leaving shells behind. The water is a study in blue-greens: pale by the shore, shading through emerald to a deep teal at the horizon, all contrasted by the brilliant white sand.
I've taken a handful of small shells and put them in my pocket to decorate some altar-like object at home, memory of this warm sea, and of the fact that Florida can be kind.. I'm writing this from a small cafe, where my Palm and its keyboard really impress the locals.
The Gulf Drive Cafe is a busy litttle eatery. I've just had a splendid Greek-style salad with anchovies (mmm, anchovies) and grilled chicken on top, and I'm sure there's an actual Greek person involved with the restaurant; not only is this salad on the menu, not only are gyros on the menu, but the olives are black, whole, and still have pits!
Dessert is another slice of Key Lime Pie. How could I resists having Key Lime Pie on an actual Key? The pie is named for Key limes, which are smaller and sweeter than the sort you usually find in the store. Avoid pies that purport to be Key Lime and are green; real Key lime pie is golden yellow with the faintest hint of chartreuse.
I do believe this slice is better than the one from Sugar 'n' Spice (an Amish restaurant) that I had for breakfast.
All right, now... nobody be surprised, but a huge crow just lit on a sign in the parking lot and flew away north.
Time to go.
-- Lorrie
I left them at something like 10:15, with a slice of Key lime pie for breakfast. My stepgrandfather was much better behaved this morning, but as far as I care the damage has already been done: the next time Florida will have a chance at me may well be my grandmother's funeral.
I left Sarasota slowly, driving west into the heart of the city, then turning north on the Tamiami Trail, US 41, a road that extends, as the name says, from Tampa to Miami. Just south of the Bradenton city limits, Florida State Route 464 cuts west to the Keys.
People who have never been to Florida may only think of the Keys as a trailing dribble of islands leading to Key West, the proud Conch Republic. This isn't actually so: in reality, a "Key" is any of a number of sandspit islands that encircle Florida. To get to them, one must cross the Intracoastal Waterway, a trench once dredged by the Army Core of Engineers, but beyond them is the Gulf of Mexico—the Sea!
Bradenton Beach is a small town of itself, where 464 meets 789, the Gulf Coast Road -- you Californians can count it kin to the Paciic Coast Highway, California State Route 1 as it threads a way along a rocky coastline. The Sea bounds them both, albeit with different names, but the largest difference is that Florida is quite a bit flatter!
When I reached the Sea, I turned right, north, along the coast. Less than half a mile up the road was beach access and a couple tourist traps—it's from one of these that I write this entry, but not until I visited the Sea.
It's warm, here, the Gulf a proteted cove of the warm side of the ocean, itself warmed by the sun which is only now getting tolerable here in mid-November. The sand is soft and white, ground shells against the shore, and liberally sprinkled with larger specimens. You can extract the shells from the sand like panning for gold: take a handful in your hand, swish it in the sea, and the sand wafts away, leaving shells behind. The water is a study in blue-greens: pale by the shore, shading through emerald to a deep teal at the horizon, all contrasted by the brilliant white sand.
I've taken a handful of small shells and put them in my pocket to decorate some altar-like object at home, memory of this warm sea, and of the fact that Florida can be kind.. I'm writing this from a small cafe, where my Palm and its keyboard really impress the locals.
The Gulf Drive Cafe is a busy litttle eatery. I've just had a splendid Greek-style salad with anchovies (mmm, anchovies) and grilled chicken on top, and I'm sure there's an actual Greek person involved with the restaurant; not only is this salad on the menu, not only are gyros on the menu, but the olives are black, whole, and still have pits!
Dessert is another slice of Key Lime Pie. How could I resists having Key Lime Pie on an actual Key? The pie is named for Key limes, which are smaller and sweeter than the sort you usually find in the store. Avoid pies that purport to be Key Lime and are green; real Key lime pie is golden yellow with the faintest hint of chartreuse.
I do believe this slice is better than the one from Sugar 'n' Spice (an Amish restaurant) that I had for breakfast.
All right, now... nobody be surprised, but a huge crow just lit on a sign in the parking lot and flew away north.
Time to go.
-- Lorrie
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no subject
Date: 2003-11-15 11:12 am (UTC)I love it when he gets pushy! :-)
no subject
Date: 2003-11-15 11:40 am (UTC)-- Lorrie
LMAO
Date: 2003-11-16 06:57 am (UTC)Re: LMAO
Date: 2003-11-22 05:10 pm (UTC)Which apparently have a fuckton of crows. Who like me. 8-)
-- Lorrie