I’ve said it
before I’ll say it again: there’s no
place busier than Logan Airport on an early morning during April school
vacation week. Is everyone going
somewhere? Yes, and we Laskins are
getting in the spirit by flying
cheapo Spirit Airlines which does not, in fact, live down to the hype. It’s been a long frozen winter and it turns
out from Instagram and Facebook that we are not the only family we know who are
seeking relief in the Sunshine State this week.
If you’ve been
there you know that the feeling when you step out of the airport in a
subtropical zone – all warm and deliciously damp and fecund-smelling – is
really sublime. It is like walking into
the hot tub room at the gym except it is outside and sunny and there are birds
and flowers and white cars everywhere.
After much
uncharacteristic backing and forthing, and downright late planning, we ended up
choosing to spend our few days of April break on Sanibel Island, just off the
coast of southwestern Florida.[1] Partly motivated by an enthusiastic endorsement
from my friend Kristy who’s been coming down here with her family for ages, and
also by Bill’s memory of bringing Peter down when he was three (when I was on
that Harvard alumni cruise), and maybe just by a direct flight and relative
lack of effort required to plan, here we are.
But is there
any here here? This is the question that
haunts some of us. What is the essence
of Sanibel, what is its defining feature, beyond admittedly lovely long beaches
and an excess of Lily Pulitzer? Stay
tuned.
Our wee
cot-tahge at Castaways Cottages is completely devoid of sand when we arrive,
but that soon ends. It’s also
predictably frigid as is everything air-conditioned here and it is situated in
a small resort right at the very tip of Sanibel island, straddling the
not-as-busy-as-we-expected road: Gulf of
Mexico on one side, marina and Pine Island Sound (more on THAT later) on the
other. We’re told this is one of the great
shelling beaches on the island, which is generally known as a shelling mecca,
so we are expecting jewels of the sea to litter the beach at every turn. We’ll find out about that, but what we really
like is that it is a corner of the island, which sets up some interesting
actions and wave currents, and there are some trees in back under which you can
take cover from the blazing sun. We hear
the sunsets will be spectacular and the water is shockingly warm.
While our
cottage is perfectly OK, it is small, and one bathroom with two teenagers makes
for endless “are you done yet” and damp towels everywhere. I don’t know how anyone gets anything dry
here.
Kristy and Gil
pop over for a drink after dinner to welcome us to the island, and it is very
nice to see old friends, even if in our tiny frozen hut.
[1] I know, you’re dying
to know: why didn’t we go somewhere
exotic for a whole week like we usually do?
Because Izzy’s French class had a jam-packed trip to Québec over the
first weekend. We basically dragged her
off that bus and on to the plane for this.
Out of the poutine pan and into the fire.
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