The New Year’s Eve festivities at St. Augustine beach end at 10pm, I suspect to give people enough time to find their own festivities for the final minutes of the year. The night ends with a long queue waiting for a school bus to take everyone back to the city; arriving here in a car is only for the brave and the extremely patient, and those that are eager enough to get here before 5pm. We arrive to the outskirts of town with enough time to speed-walk back to the hotel, turn on the live stream from Times Square and celebrate the start of 2017 with champagne! Nothing crazy, but certainly cozy. The crazy is saving itself for the rest of 2017.
From St. Augustine we drive to West Palm Beach. Deciding that taking A1A along the coast will take too long (my 76 year old grandma is travelling with us,) we drive along the highway on what is an unbearingly boring route. Nothing but flat land and industrial parks adorn the sides of the highway, along with hundreds of billboards for medical services. I try sleeping in the backseat, but the monotone straight road does not want to lull me into a heavy sleep that will make the 3 hour drive zoom by. I can’t recommend a drive along the I-95 in the eastern part of Florida. Fly in, if you can.
West Palm Beach. Big houses. Mansions, even. Palm trees line the streets. Carefully manicured lawns colour the ground. Gigantic yachts are docked at the bayfront. Much of the beach near the city is fenced off, prominently displaying ‘private property,’ and ‘no trespassing’ signs. But, for the frugal traveller, there are things to do here. What there is of the beachfront, is nice: the sand white, the ocean wide enough to let your mind freely wander.
Clematis Street offers some eye candy and playful distraction, too. Murals decorate many of the walls; a thud can be felt in your chest, thumping from one of the night clubs; people spill out from the bars and restaurants, onto the patios along the street. During the holiday season you can enjoy the light show that illuminates the largest Christmas tree made out of sand. A stroll along the waterfront, weaving in and out of the piers offers lovely views of the city, the bay and the yachts. Palm Beach is a trip for those who are interested in imagining how the rich live. You won’t get to see them play, though – they play in gated island estates such as Mar-a-Lago.
The drive along the A1A south to Fort Lauderdale is offers similar views; sadly, not much ocean to be seen. You can feast your eyes on the lawns, though, and the tall, lush green hedges that offer slight glimpses of the white mansions they attempt to hide from view. It’s interesting to see how nature has been tamed and preened; it is indeed beautiful what’s been done to enhance the beauty of the concrete.
On a tourist site I read that Fort Lauderdale is nicknamed ‘Little Venice,’ and yes, there are canals that traverse the city and allow people easy water access to the ocean, but you have to own a house to have access, otherwise you can only gander at the grandeur from the bridges.
I can see the allure of Florida. The towns along the coast are clean and green. The houses are vast. The sky is blue. The sun is warm. It’s pleasing to the people that flock here to get away from the harsh, cold winters of the north. Florida offers a place to laze and lounge where time can move as slowly or as fast as you please.
Florida is paradise, for other people.
