Panama City, Florida
28/03/08 14:05
The sweet music of
Georgia has left my ears. I haven’t heard the
soothing, yet often utterly incomprehensible accent
of the local who presumes that I’m a native and with
the intend of being polite, starts a conversation.
This often results in me being completely befuddled
and desperate to recover, by trying to find out what
we’re talking about as we talk.
Sometimes I succeed, sometimes I don’t. But almost every time I seem to order something more than I wanted, like an extra side of fries and buffalo wings for my Trippledecker mega bacon-cheese burger, and apparently extra sugar in my Sweet Georgia Tea (apologies to those at home unable to get sugar due to a world shortage, I must’ve gotten it all).
After a few days in Florida (truly) The Sunshine State, I’ve succeeded in lowering my blood sugar levels again (at least to that of a six year old who just hammered his way through a pound of chocolate-caffein ice cream). Luckily I found a gym at the last hotel we stayed at and managed to get some training time - which I celebrated with a Bacon Cheeseburger at Hardee’s in Crawfordville, Florida.
Crawfordville was incredible. Upon entering you can feel changes in the time/space continuum. It's as if everything is turned down a notch. At one place we visited, the guy behind the counter was literally asleep when we entered, and as soon as he had served us, and was sure that we didn’t need anything else he fell asleep again, this time face down at the counter. The food was terrible, and Jacob swore his coke tasted as if it had been scraped off the ground (I politely, though firmly declined to taste it). After finishing our ‘food’ we left the “Huddle House” without waking the waiter, and talked about how much we missed the hospitality of Georgia.
Panama City is a
lovely place. It doesn’t have the atmosphere of
learning that we found in Athens, but it sure has the
leisure. We seem to have landed in a group of
liberals and artists, staying at the home of Mark - a
semi retired pharmacist, artist and civil liberties
activist. So all in all a crowd quite similar to
ourselves. We’ve been here less than 24 hours and so
far we’ve attended a gay movie night at the local art
gallery, been invited to hook up with three different
people and are being greeted at the coffee bar, that
our host Mark prefers, by the waitress with “So what
are you guys up to today?”. So the hospitality of the
locals seem endless (at least we haven’t met the
boundaries yet)
The Coffee bar is called “Trigo”, and should you ever find yourself within driving distance of Panama City I suggest that you go there. I got a serving of croissants and a Cafe Latte today that would have made Proust change the content of the famous tea and Madeleine cookie scene, and no I didn’t dunk my croissant!
Apparently spring break is in town, but I must admit that I haven’t seen anything of it yet. I think we’ll go have a look later, but I must admit that if I wanted to experience drunk young people making asses of themselves I would’ve stayed in Denmark.
One thing that
really helps set an easygoing atmosphere is the 25
mph speed limit they have. It’s impossible to go
anywhere in a hurry, and it seems that
everyone
is just cruising around
with their windows down. And if it gets a bit too
warm you just follow Harrison Road down to the Civic
Center, which is by the sea. The soft, yet soothing
winds will do you good. As the truly inept dane I am,
I succeeded in getting my hands sunburnt while
reading the newspaper. But at least the top of my
head doesn’t have that luminous red shrimp-like color
anymore.
Sometimes I succeed, sometimes I don’t. But almost every time I seem to order something more than I wanted, like an extra side of fries and buffalo wings for my Trippledecker mega bacon-cheese burger, and apparently extra sugar in my Sweet Georgia Tea (apologies to those at home unable to get sugar due to a world shortage, I must’ve gotten it all).
After a few days in Florida (truly) The Sunshine State, I’ve succeeded in lowering my blood sugar levels again (at least to that of a six year old who just hammered his way through a pound of chocolate-caffein ice cream). Luckily I found a gym at the last hotel we stayed at and managed to get some training time - which I celebrated with a Bacon Cheeseburger at Hardee’s in Crawfordville, Florida.
Crawfordville was incredible. Upon entering you can feel changes in the time/space continuum. It's as if everything is turned down a notch. At one place we visited, the guy behind the counter was literally asleep when we entered, and as soon as he had served us, and was sure that we didn’t need anything else he fell asleep again, this time face down at the counter. The food was terrible, and Jacob swore his coke tasted as if it had been scraped off the ground (I politely, though firmly declined to taste it). After finishing our ‘food’ we left the “Huddle House” without waking the waiter, and talked about how much we missed the hospitality of Georgia.
The Coffee bar is called “Trigo”, and should you ever find yourself within driving distance of Panama City I suggest that you go there. I got a serving of croissants and a Cafe Latte today that would have made Proust change the content of the famous tea and Madeleine cookie scene, and no I didn’t dunk my croissant!
Apparently spring break is in town, but I must admit that I haven’t seen anything of it yet. I think we’ll go have a look later, but I must admit that if I wanted to experience drunk young people making asses of themselves I would’ve stayed in Denmark.
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