We're Moving (again)!

It's that time again, we're moving! For new readers (thanks for stopping by!), Gman and I move every couple of years to some new and exotic location, like New York City, Washington DC, or Kuwait City. This time we're going State side again to Tampa, Florida. Tampa is my hometown and I couldn't be more trilled to have the chance to live there as an adult. I can't wait to check out all the great foodie spots as well as be near family and friends. Summer boating season is so close I can feel it...

A Heroic Story in South Florida

It was a Monday morning in April and I woke up to a rooster crowing. I hobbled to the bathroom to get ready for the day. While brushing my teeth I peered out the second story window through the large oak tree shading the driveway. My mom and aunt sat together at a small table drinking coffee, checking their phones, and reading. The rooster was still crowing intermittently and looked comically small compared to the 10 or so hens that seemed to really rule the front yard. They were too busy scratching around the dirt beneath the tree looking for food to notice the little rooster strutting about.

The morning previous was nice and leisurely. I poured my coffee and joined my mom and aunt beneath the tree and walked around my aunt’s 5-acre property to see how it had changed over the years. The lake was still there; with remnants of childhood games barely overgrown with grass. I remembered bonfires and golf cart rides with my cousins. They grew up playing in the 5-acre wilderness. I grew up in the suburbs. Things they got to do everyday, like fishing, hunting, riding dirt bikes through actual dirt, making bonfires, and encountering wild animals (besides squirrels) all seemed so exotic to me. My preferred game always was playing with Barbies in the air-conditioning.

Nowadays, my eldest cousin is establishing a trapping business and honeybee farm on the property. His chickens, which provide eggs for house and for the dogs, are free range in every sense of the word, roosting at night in the oak tree over the driveway. They use the table to jump up to the branches and have no problem doing so while you sit there as well. They would rush at you also if you stood in the driveway. I couldn't decide if the chickens were territorial and saw me as a threat or if they simply had no fear of humans. I started a habit of running from the car to the house, to be on the safe side.

This morning was not leisurely. After a chaotic weekend of visiting with family and friends it was time to get to work. I was in town to assist my mother with one of her interior design jobs. It sounds glamorous but involves an exhaustive schedule. We had only a few minutes in the early morning to throw together our purses and lunches for the day along with anything we might need for a stay overnight in a hotel. I ran my things out to the car parked under the oak tree. While situating my things I realized I forgot something and ran back inside to retrieve it. This is when I made a terrible mistake. Even after many warnings from my aunt, I accidently left the car door open. Upon returning to the car with my mom, I realized my failure just as one of the chickens hopped up onto the floorboard and then onto the back seat. I started screaming, paralyzed with fear. I just stood there. What should I do? How do you get a chicken out of a car? What if it poops on the seat or on my handbag? What if it lunges at me? We were both dressed to visit with clients, not to deal with farm animals.

Just then my mom opened the other door, snatched the chicken by the tail feathers, and tossed it back onto the driveway all in one swift movement. “Get in the car and shut the door,” she said as if she didn't just touch the chicken. I couldn’t believe she just did that. No fear at all and in her nice clothes no less. I was still awestruck a few miles down the road when I finally said, “How did you do that? You saved my life!” She laughed and reminded me that she too grew up living the exotic life of my cousins. When she was a little girl it was her duty to feed the chickens before school every day. I gained a whole new respect for my mother that morning - my mother, the hero.

Wardrobe: What to Wear While Visiting Roadside America

Admittedly most people on my visit to Solomon's Castle were donning their best red, purple, and white as they were mostly members of the Red Hat Society. For the rest of us, the challenge is balancing really cold AC indoors and warmer temperatures outdoors.

I wore a black sundress, but I thought it would be fun to create a look that took the standard Florida wardrobe staples - a t-shirt, shorts, and sandals - and elevate them a bit with interesting accessories. You could wear this to any of the quirky sights that make up the classic Americana roadside tourist stop.

long sleeved t-shirt, bag, shorts, sunglasses, sandals, earrings

Destination: Solomon's Castle, Ona, Florida

Solomon's Castle is one of those road-side America must do's. I first heard about it through my in-laws who insisted we go see it during one of Gman and my visits. They described it with great enthusiasm, "This man built an entire castle by hand, out of garbage. Well, out of recycled materials. He built the whole thing! You can take a tour and have lunch in the Boat in the Moat. The funny thing is the whole thing is a pun. Its a joke. Its great, we have to go!" And so finally after years of talking about it with my anticipation building, we finally went this summer.

You can only get to Solomon's Castle by car and it is recommended that you start with a full tank of gas as you exit Interstate 75. It is located pretty far into the wilderness of the middle of the state. Also bring cash with you for tour tickets and lunch. Surprisingly, its easy to spend a full day there so start your journey early in the morning. The closest large town is Sarasota, so it might be a fun day trip if you are enjoying a week at the beach. Other logistics to note, since the whole experience is run by a family who actually lives in the castle that you take a tour in, sometimes they need time off. It is closed all Mondays and the months of July, August, and September. This seems like a lot but if you have ever experienced summer in Florida, you're going to only want to be at the beach or in the AC somewhere anyways. The middle of the state gets pretty hot and every afternoon has incredible thunderstorms. 

Redneck Coat of Arms

"Wrong Brothers"

Editor's note: Before you make fun of me for going on a geriatric tour with the Red Hat Society, remember, they were out exploring while you were at home watching TV and surfing the internet. 

My favorite thing about Solomon's Castle is that everything there, including the building itself was crafted by hand by the owner and artist Howard Solomon. If I remember correctly (too busy enjoying myself to take notes!) he has been working on it for several decades. He created each sculpture, stained glass window, painting, or piece of architecture out of found objects. The outside of the castle, for example, is made from old printing press plates that were otherwise going to be thrown away. The tour you go on takes you through a museum of Mr. Solomon's artwork and through his home. Some of the items might seem like crudely constructed rifts on great works of art or just a wooden gun inside a box, but each piece is a visual pun. Its the epitome of everything I studied about conceptual art. I freakin' loved it! The tour guide was so dry that he barely smiled. I was laughing out loud the entire tour. For example, the image below is of Mr. Solomon's dining room window with a bunch of cameras on the ledge. Its a "picture window." GET IT?! I was dying. I could barely catch my breath as each joke rolled off the tongue of the guide. I just love that Mr. Solomon was inspired to create each concept and he had the drive and talent enough to actually follow through and make each thing. I feel like I always have these crazy ideas but then I don't take action. He didn't let other people discourage him from building his own castle in the middle of Florida. In fact his whole family, children, grand-children, all live on the property and support his fantastic dreams.

You're going to work up an appetite on the tour. Go directly to the Boat in the Moat, run by his daughter, and order some traditional Floridian cuisine. I enjoyed the classic BLT with a fruit salad and marshmallows and a sweet tea. For dessert we split a few slices of Key Lime Pie, a must! The food was simple but delicious, fresh (mostly sourced from local farms), and prepared with friendly hands.

After lunch I recommend a walk on the nature path, a stop by Mr. Solomon's workshop, and a visit to his latest piece, The Alice Shmo, a to scale replica of The Alamo. There is a gift shop too (where you purchase tour tickets) if you are in a silly mood and interested in taking a joke home with you.

If you aren't quite ready to leave, perhaps a stay at the castle is in your cards? There is a one room Bed & Breakfast located in the top of the tower. Want to bring your friends back with you? They have a beautiful room you can rent for parties of 20+ people. Getting the party out there is on you...

"Picture window"

Boat in the Moat Restaurant

"This mural is protected by fencing." 

Plant loving friends, are you impressed by this staghorn fern? I was!

A Summertime Florida Thunderstorm

I smelled the rain coming as a bead of sweat gathered enough momentum to drip down the side of my face. I sat outside slouched in a patio chair with my feet propped up on the one next to me. The air was still. So still that if it weren’t for the dripping sweat I would have mistaken the stillness of the water in the swimming pool for a tiny frozen lake. I looked out over the screened in patio, past the pool and into the yard beyond the screen. Not a blade of grass moved. I thought it was all make believe until two cardinals suddenly broke the stillness and flew away. Other birds followed their lead - the last to leave before the rain started to fall. I scanned the area for other movement and saw the front of the storm quickly approaching in the near distance.

Before a Florida thunderstorm begins to rain, it smells. It’s a damp scent, different than mold, wet clothes, or wet dogs. It’s fresh - the freshness of newly formed rain clouds. But it’s more than fresh; it’s also the smell of tree bark, freshly tilled soil, and rainwater. This particular scent is what I imagine the air to smell like when I look out the window in an airplane mixed with what it is like to be in the wilderness first thing in the morning.

It’s a comforting scent to a girl who grew up in Florida. As a child, the smell meant you had to abandon that game of basketball and go inside. It meant that its time to get out of the pool or leave the beach. It meant that we had to play indoors for an hour every afternoon from May to September. That hour was a welcome break from the escalating heat and humidity that was building all day.

Besides the scent, in Florida you can see the afternoon thunderstorms coming. Their clouds billow up as they gain momentum over flat grasslands and swamplands. The clouds get darker and darker and start to swirl as they visibly move forward.

The rain will come slowly at first. Soft drops here and there ting the metal cage of the screened in patio I’m sitting on. Then it starts pouring and you can’t see through the rain. Sometimes, so much rain will fall in such a short amount of time that flash flooding is common in some areas every afternoon. The rain comes predictably at the same time every afternoon. So predictably that people plan their afternoon activities around it. You don’t need to carry an umbrella.

Floridian children are taught a game about how to tell how far away a storm is. Once you see a flash of lightening you start counting, “One one thousand, two one thousand, three one thousand,” and so on until you hear the rumbling thunder. The amount of “one thousands” between the lightening and thunder will determine the distance of the storm to you in miles.

As the rain gets heavier the cracks of thunder get so loud and so deep that they reverberate through your body as if you were standing next to a speaker at a club. It’s the same feeling as the bass of the music through your heart and breath. I count as the lightening pops and it nearly lulls me to sleep. Suddenly my hair stands on end as lightening strikes almost directly on the other side of the fence. I can barely count “one one th—“ when the sound of thunder almost took my breath away. If this wasn’t such a normal experience for me growing up, I would be terrified. I would be hiding behind the bed, like the dog. Instead, I’m sitting with my in-laws and we speculate about how someone from a drier climate might be freaked out by the amount of rain and thunder.

As a little girl, I would sit with my dad and watch the storms. As soon as the smell of the rain touched his nostrils he would grab a beer, pull the garage door open by a manual handle, and put his plastic chair on the edge of the smoothly poured concrete. The mist from clashing raindrops would moisten our skin as we sat on the edge of our safe shelter. Our little spaniel dog, Lady, would loyally accompany us, not moving from my dad’s side the entire storm. Although she was afraid of the thunder, I’m guessing she liked the smell of the rain more because while she sat there she would close her eyes and sniff the air as if she was intoxicated by the scent. He would sit there quietly and watch the storm go by without reading, talking, or distracting himself in any way. When I would join him, I felt like I was in on a secret.

During the strongest part of the storm, the rain clashes with itself and onto every object in its path. The sound is a constant hissing that calms ones nerves, though it seems like it would be the opposite. The thunder rolls into a crescendo, driving the rhythm of the raindrops. At this point he rain is so loud that you can’t hear someone talking only a foot away. Then suddenly, it’s over.

I’m stirred by the sound of Gman’s voice, “Sweetie, we’re going to the store. Did you want to go with us?” I must have dozed off while counting my “one thousands”. I got up as he talked and wiped the misty raindrops from my legs, arms, and face. As quickly as the storm arrived, it was gone. It left the colors of my surroundings a deeper and brighter hue than when I fell asleep. It looked like I lived in an oil painting. I walked inside, the birds returned to the feeder, and the smell of the rain folded back into my childhood memory.

Paradise Living

Just a few reasons I love being in Florida - Sanibel Island, Indian Rocks Beach, Clearwater Beach, and Caladesi Island all in two weeks! It's always so hard to leave. Thank you to all my loved ones who took the time out of their busy schedules to hang with Gman and me! I love you dearly. 

I can't wait to share my Florida experiences with you soon. But first, I'm off to explore the American South. Have a great week!

Candy Orange Slices

When I was a little girl my sister and I used to go over to my grandparents' house. We would go over there often, for entire weekends, and on weekdays after school. No matter how frequent our visits, we always had special little things we did. For instance, we played dress up in my grandmother's silk night gowns and made up dance routines to Disney soundtracks (Beauty and the Beast being a favorite) and Barry Manilow tapes (no snickering, he's awesome). One special treat always sticks out in my mind when I think about those days.

When you walked in the front door of their house the formal living room was to the left. We weren't really allowed to play in there as it was for adult company. The room wrapped around to the formal dining room and then connected to the kitchen, where you would walk if you went straight instead of to the left when you walked in the door. We could run around the entire house in a loop. On the coffee table in the formal living room there was a large glass lidded candy dish. My grandfather was a sucker for orange slice candies and always had the bowl filled with them. For a long time he was the only person I knew who actually ate them (much like finding the person who really likes Peeps or candy message hearts you get on Valentine's Day). I used to run through the room and sneak a slice or two while we were there. I never took too many because I didn't want him to know I was sneaking one of his special candies!

Many years later my grandfather has passed away, the house has been sold, and the candy dish sent to a consignment shop. Sometimes when I'm feeling lonely or I miss him, I'll swing by a drug store and buy a bag of orange slices. I eat them quietly and linger over the crunch of the sugar crystals between my teeth. The gummy texture and artificial orange flavor take back 20 years. While I'm eating them I think about my grandfather and all of our wonderful memories together. 

Do you have any foods that bring your back to your childhood? Any that help you remember your loved ones?

A Dedication to Honey

Honey is one of my favorite ingredients. I say a lot of things are my favorite, but honey really is. Its dependable and so versatile. I like that it can only come from bees and that people across all continents can enjoy their own domestic honey (that's right, its everywhere!) and that the honey's taste reflects the local flora, so its always different. It can be eaten directly out of the comb or strained and packaged. It lasts for years too, not that I've ever experienced that first hand. It can make the perfect addition to a bowl of fruit or take the edge off of a spicy meal. I like to add a touch to my otherwise black morning coffee. 

A few weeks ago I went down to my cousin's house in south Florida. He has a small farm, trapping business, and recently started harvesting honey from his own bees. I was impressed with his ability to take on a new challenge and to do it so well. His honey (pictured) was the perfect souvenir from my visit. I swear I can taste what Florida smells like when I eat it - citrus, fresh cut grass, and wild flowers. He recommended eating it on vanilla ice cream. There's no going back now, my ice cream has gone to a whole new level of delicious. He really should bottle and sell it (maybe through High Heeled Traveler?).

On a side note, bees are apparently non-aggressive when you aren't trying to get their honey. I witnessed another one of my cousins actually pet a bee once and it didn't try to sting him. I almost passed out watching him do it.

Shoe Love: Flamingos

Sophia Webster Flamingo Printed Vinyl Sandals via Net-a-Porter

As you read this I'm en route to the Sunshine State! I'll be there mixing work and play with family and friends. Many people think of Florida when they see flamingos but the only time we ever saw them growing up was at the zoo! Alligators, seagulls, herons, and squirrels make me think of my home state. Those are all much more abundant. I do, however, need these flamingo heels for my trip. Don't you think?

Ft Myers, Florida

Weekend Recap: a reunion

I’m not really one to reminisce. I don’t have a fabulous memory. Although remembering the past can lead to belly-laughing story telling and pure joy, one also runs the risk of opening the door to regret and heartbreak. So I like to live in the moment. I like to try and be completely present and just keep moving forward.

This proved difficult this past weekend. I went back to my hometown for my ten-year high school reunion. I wasn’t nervous about it. The event was slapped together at the last minute, hosted at a popular local marina with a bar right on the water. With such a causal approach, how could I feel worried about reconnecting with people who saw me through my youth?

I spent little time concerned about who would be there and who wouldn’t. I thought many of my friends, my “group,” would come because I thought everyone went to their reunion. That’s why I went.

I showed up right on time with one of my best friends, Kate, who not only went to high school with me, but became my college roommate, my confident, and your favorite High Heeled Traveler poet. But being there felt awkward. I felt the insecurities of my adolescence creeping into my stomach. I got a beer and we chatted with a very nice girl that I remember having classes with. The crowd grew and a not so talented band started playing songs that were popular when we were in high school. No one really mingled and I couldn’t put names with faces. People found a spot to sit, ate the chicken fingers from the buffet, and only talked to the people from their previously defined social circles. After panicking that perhaps I was in the wrong place, I did find a few lovely people I was glad to see in person that I already reconnected with on facebook.

Just as I was thinking it was time to wrap it up, two people walked onto the patio - two people who I spent almost every waking hour with for four years of high school and whom I’ve known since I was a child. I haven’t really spoken to them since the day we graduated high school with a bittersweet separation, each of us moving on to find our futures and ourselves. I thought it might be hard to pick up the pieces but with people like this you just pick up where you left off. As the party wound down, we decided to go to another bar where Kate and I’s college friends were waiting.

When we arrived, a band was playing some sort of swing, country, rock combo. A middle-aged woman with wild hair and no shoes danced around me and couples swung to the beat. I stood there quietly sipping my beer, watching my worlds collide, as my college friends and high school friends divulged my secrets to each other over the music. Everyone was having a great time together and I thought, perhaps reminiscing isn’t so bad when, in a moment, my bittersweet past became part of my very joy-filled future.

Art to Inspiration: Lani Trock, Hello Blue Moon

Lani Trock, Hello Blue Moon

It was a cold January night by Florida standards. We had to make an emergency run to Walmart to get warm socks and gloves. I had two wool sweaters and a pea coat to my name and wore all three to keep my teeth from chattering. Once on the road it took about 30 minutes to find the perfect spot along Highway 441. The news mentioned the best place to watch the meteor shower would be in Paynes Prairie, just outside of Gainesville and the University of Florida.

The prairie is a 22,000 acre state park preserve that is home to some of the greatest plants and animals Florida has to offer (the Everglades isn't the only natural wonder in Florida!). It's a bird watchers dream and even has wild horses. During the day one can stay very busy hiking, fishing, canoeing, biking, and horseback riding (not on the wild ones...). There are no street lights lining the highway and at night the area is empty, quiet, and pitch black. Because of this, on any given night the sky suddenly comes alive with so many stars one wouldn't think it possible. The evening of the meteor shower the highway was lined with college kids, professors, and local families with their cars pulled over and people spread out on blankets or perked on the hoods of their cars. A tailgating scene, so familiar to Gainesville, yet in complete darkness. The constant sounds of whispers and giggles relieved any concerns I had with being so close to the deep  mysteries of the grass lands only steps from our spot.

My roommates and I huddled together on a sheet and waited patiently for the stars to start falling. It took hours, we ate all our snacks, told jokes, stories, and eventually waited in silence. Dew formed on the grass beneath us and the cold wetness prevented any sort of nodding off. Finally, after hours, a shooting star burst across the sky. Then a second. Then two at time. Then three, five, ten. Magically the sky lit up with bright streaks each quicker than our eyes could process. Before we could react and say, "oh! there's one!" it would be gone. We couldn't point or communicate with each other for fear of missing the very fleeting moment and the collective gasping of individuals created a symphony of awe and delight across the highway.

As the sun crept up on the horizon, the crowds thinned and the stars disappeared. We dusted ourselves off, threw the sheet in the trunk, and with a peaceful satisfaction, headed straight to Denny's for some pancakes and eggs.


Started by the lovely Supal of Chevrons and Eclairs, Art to Inspiration is a once a month blog post inspired by a work of art. If you would like to participate in Art to Inspiration, click here to read more and sign up. 

And in case you missed it here's July's and August's Art to Inspiration.

Exploring Wine: A Rosé Story

This Exploring Wine post won't be a review but in honor of the warming weather, a little story about that pink wine.

During the hot summer days in Georgia my grandmother used to drink sweet rosé wine over ice. She loved it almost as much as sweet tea and sprite, her go-tos. She isn't a big alcohol drinker and her taste in wine was whatever was sweet and cheap. As a young adult I remember looking down on her choice as less than sophisticated. I always associated rosé with tacky old-fashioned furniture and matching shorts outfits that older ladies in Florida just love to wear. As I became a wine drinker, I teased her behind her back about her beloved  rosé with ice.

Then I moved to Paris in the summer of  2006 to study abroad. I became a francophile and fell in love with all things Parisian. It was hot, I mean real hot, and there was little air conditioning to be had. We even bought hand fans to cool ourselves and spent little time in our apartments or classrooms. Parisians congregated in the street cafes in hopes of a breeze and at least some interesting people watching. My girlfriends and I followed suit. I looked around to see what everyone was ordering and was horrified to see chic French men and women drinking  rosé with ice. Just one ice cube floating there in the middle of the pink liquid. Then I did the unthinkable and ordered one (let's be honest, I ordered a bottle). The first sip was smooth, light, slightly sweet, and coolly refreshing.

Grandma, in fact, knew what she was doing. She knew what would take the edge off of summer heat. I gained a new respect for her that summer. Now she's no longer able to enjoy her  rosé with ice. So each year when spring finally gives in to the heat of summer, I buy a bottle in her honor and toast to the miserable heat to come.

Wardrobe: Clearwater Beach, FL

Boyfriend shirt, jean shorts, panama hat, earrings, tote, bikini (bottom, top), flip flops, ring

These days, most people I know do not have the luxury of living in a community with a pool, let alone near the beach. The beach is a special place many of us go to vacation. Instead of buying specific bathing suit cover ups for your next beach get-a-way, bring versatile pieces, like a cotton button up and tote bag, that you can wear on other days of your trip too. I love wearing a button up to the beach (it feels cozier than a t-shirt) and I like to wear it open to show off my fab swimsuit beneath!

For Clearwater Beach, keep the jewelry simple with colorful stud earrings and a tiny ring. And because its a casual, slightly tacky environment, don't leave home without your jean shorts and flip flops. That was pretty much my wardrobe growing up (except I wore Birkenstocks everyday!)

Destination: Clearwater Beach, Florida

In DC people always ask, “where are you from?” and I say, “I moved here from New York City.” To which they insist, “No, where are you from originally?” It’s very important for people here to know your residential history. Perhaps it’s a way they try to find common ground or maybe they are suspicious of non-locals. Either way, I’m originally from Palm Harbor, Florida. Most people don’t know where that is, so I usually name one of the closest bigger cities, Clearwater (and if they are still looking at me like a deer in headlights, I follow up with Tampa.)


Clearwater is best known for two things: the take over of Scientology and it's pristine white beaches and crystal clear blue water. Clearwater Beach was the first beach I ever set foot on. When I was a tiny baby, I did not appreciate the beautiful, white, powdery sand. If the sand touched me, I would sit there with my fingers and toes spread as far as they could with that “this is yucky” look on my face.


When I was a little girl, our family would take a trip every summer to the beach, even though we only lived 25 minutes away. We would go with our grandparents, aunt, cousin, my parents, and sister, and stay at what is now the Marriot on Sand Key. As a child, the attraction here was not the beach but the huge pool and freedom to explore it. My sister and I took our Barbies along so they could explore too. There was also a parrot in the lobby.

This beach is the place I keep coming back to, the beach environment - the tacky culture, casual attitude, and open air dining - are like home to me. This is the place of my childhood and of my adolescence. I’ve been here countless times and have memorized the way the waves lap the concrete poles beneath Pier 60. I know that families and tourists hang on towards the north and teenagers layout in groups on the south side of the pier. Old leathery beach bums bask in teeny tiny string bikinis and toddlers shrill with excitement each time the water touches their toes. While amateur skim boarders try their best to look professional.


I have a spot where I go to sit. It’s at the far north side of the beach, where only locals go. In high school I would go there with my girlfriends we’d listen to loud music on a boom-box, read Cosmo and Glamour, and catch up on gossip. I didn’t notice then that the water changed colors as the sun and clouds moved across the sky. I didn’t notice that tiny crabs snuck out at low tide, I was too busy checking my tan lines. I kept a towel, bikini, sunscreen, and flip flops in the trunk of my Hyundai Sante Fe, just in case we wanted to cruise over after school.


I recommend Sand Key as a more secluded, romantic spot or if you have young children and are worried about a crowded beach. There is also a famously delicious Cuban restaurant on Sand Key called Columbia Restaurant. It would make for a great date night spot; just remember to wear real shoes and clothes, not your flip-flops and cover-up. Reservations recommended.

This one time, the day after my wedding, two of my bridesmaids and some of our guests headed over to the beach to get some R&R before jumping on the plane. They stopped at Publix to get subs (remember how delicious I told you these were?) and intended to picnic at the beach while trying to absorb a little vitamin D. One of them was not a native Floridian and made the mistake of not guarding her sandwich with her life. The seagulls sensed her vulnerability and started circling. They took turns diving at her to try to nab a bite or steal the whole sandwich. Terrified, she threw the sandwich into the air and took off running and screaming. Everyone else laughed so hard they couldn’t breathe.


This brings me to one of the most important bits of advice I can give: when at the beach never EVER feed the seagulls. They are aggressive terrors who get bolder by the tourist. They will snatch your food, and anything that looks like food. If you bring food to the beach, be sure to throw everything away properly on your way out. In case of emergency, if the birds are swarming, hide your food with your body or under a bag/towel, etc. If they are still bothering you, do not give in and throw scraps. Try to ride it out, as they will eventually leave you for an easier target. Avoiding these creatures will make your visit much more enjoyable.

Some of my favorite spots for shopping and dining include... my favorite place to buy a bikini is the Mandalay Surf Company. Best places to grab a grouper sandwich or burger include any of the Frenchy's locations (Salt Water Cafe being the best) or Palm Pavilion (go here for live music and sunset views). For a fancy dinner Bob Heilman's Beachcomber is a must and if you're in the market for a place that serves everything try Clearsky Beachside Cafe. Its also where many of the colorful locals hangout.


And some things tourists do that locals don't (but are worth doing once): Captain Memo's pirate ship tour, dolphin watching tour, and Clearwater Marine Aquarium which is home to Winter, the dolphin with the prosthetic tail made famous by the movie A Dolphin's Tale (I laugh inside every time I read this, sort of mean, "punny" title...).


If you have any boating experience, or can afford to charter a small boat, I recommend skipping all of the above and cruising around the inter-coastal waterway on your own. Not only will you see dolphins and other wildlife, but you will get to check out all of the fabulous homes over-looking the water. I just love peeking into the windows!


The best place to stay is the Sand Pearl - I'll give you a full review of it on Thursday!