There’s an internet cafe much closer to UD‘s apartment, but Sippin’ (part of a Key West chain) has couches and psychedelic paintings. She’ll settle in, try not to listen to the wimpy Donovanesque music, and write to you.
Yet another warm clear breezy day for UD‘s walk here. What do they do for rain in KW?
“Most of the plants are succulents,” Liz, a new friend, explained to UD yesterday.
Liz took Dramamine and sailed through the long violent trip to and from the Dry Tortugas. Macho, pill-averse UD doesn’t do things like that, so she took an inside seat, pressed her eyes shut like one in deep prayer, and sweated like mad as the boat flew up and smacked the water like a mofo. For hours.
She opened her eyes only to glance at the flat barf bag awaiting her vomit. But while others vomited, UD refrained. Barely.
The island’s surreal. Reminded UD of North Africa, which she’s never visited, but dedicated readers know UD has a thing for Tunisia and wants to go someday. Stark sun over a ruined fort on a beach. Camus territory.
Local delicacies too, that you won’t find in Tunis. A homemade boat used by Cuban refugees, for instance, lies on the strand.
UD skipped the guided tour of the fort and went right to the beach. The water was a wild mix of blue and green, and the sand was like coarse salt. She snorkeled the calm, shallow inlet, and though, as usual, the views were only so-so, she loved feeling part of the drift of the sea.
Then she went back to shore, stripped off her snorkel gear, strapped on simple goggles, and swam for a long time in the same warm clear water. Even her weak eyes marveled at the enormous brick fort that loomed up whenever she took a breath.
February 27th, 2009 at 10:56AM
The word is facho, UD, facho.
(I just finished shoveling a six inch snow fall. No sympathy here.)
February 27th, 2009 at 10:59AM
Facho? New one on me, Bonzo.
February 27th, 2009 at 11:07AM
Facho is the female equivalent of macho…