A Postcard From St. Augustine

A Compilation of notes I sent home to friends from Florida last winter.

December 27, 2008.

Just sending a Disney postcard makes me nostalgic, as it has been a full 6 hours since we left the "bosom of Mickey" as it is affectionately known in my family, and are now in a somewhat schizophrenic hotel on the beach in St. Augustine. Speaking of schizophrenic: what is up with Florida, anyway? More on this later. I say"on the beach" not to conjure up images of Mexican villas or out of any attempt to sound posh (if if you'd seen this hotel you'd understand!) but to pay homage to our unplanned (or should I say badly organized) adventure in getting here, armed with a Canadian confirmation number and n address. The high light would be the hair-raising minutes we spent discussing whether St.Augustine on the Beach was different than St. Augustine Beach, or whether the beach St. Augustine was on might not be St. Augustine Beach (that last one was my idea).

Amazingly we did arrive and immediately set upon the racks of pamphlets touting various paranormal tours (we may be starting up our own if the spectre in our toilet does not quiet down)and now are wondering what we have stumbled into: perhaps that is why the supernatural is such an industry here, this whole place is trying to turn itself into a sandier more hurricane-prone version of Brigadoon. I have never seen Brigadoon, but this town has been reinventing itself long before it was a town: burial ground to battle field to fort to town to living history museum and this trendy boutique and paranormal hot spot, who is to say what's real? Maybe none of this is lasting, maybe it all is, and maybe ill-fighting half-hearted history is better than none; at least it's still breathing.

Oh yes, so back to schizophrenia: the funny thing about Florida is that Disney World may actually be the "realest" thing in it; not that fortress-rivaling designer outlets and sprawling star spangled banner plastered souvenir shops don't have their place (Florida!) but something about the sunshine and the gators and the dazed Canadians and hop retirees makes me feel it is world so mythical not even Fantasyland or Mickey's Toontown could compare. Throughout all the years of visiting this area I think I have been waiting for something to jump out from behind a palm tree and yell, "Ha ha--,fooled you!" And that's just the ones selling real estate. Perhaps this will all come clear in the light, starting with what a Dairy Queen is doing in the heart of the historic district?

And with that, I leave you to ponder!

N.