Bucko's World

Thursday 20^th

Did you know that many common and everyday objects you use around the office and home were originally conceived with totally different purposes in life or even invented completely by accident?  For instance, the glue used on Post It notes was originally part of work by a 3M scientist to create the world’s strongest adhesive – boy did he get that wrong (but with $1bn in annual sales for 3M I think he kept his job).  Or that Cling Film was invented by a bloke who was trying to make a hard plastic cover for his car – oh dear - fail.  Or that the guy who invented Cyanoacrylate (Super Glue to you and me) was trying to make clear plastic gun sights for sniper rifles?  In fact for two of these products their true origins are so poorly known that urban myths about them have regularly been passed off as common knowledge; Super Glue was invented to close battlefield wounds during WWII (nope, although it was used during The Vietnam War for that) and, similarly, that during the same conflict Cling Film was used to cover the wounds of burn victims to keep them sterile (plus it won’t stick to the burn..), but this is again wrong, (although, again, the has become a secondary use of the product).

It does appear that some other uses have also been found for these products.  Last night, for instance, someone obviously super glued my eyes together, and then wrapped my head up in cling film.  They probably left a Post It somewhere explaining why they did this, but it must have fallen off during the night.  Either way, trying to prise my eyes open this morning took a super human effort, as did removing the cling film, you never can find the fucking edge….

This led to a rather tardy start to the day and the eventual decision to keep it all very easy.  A walk on the beach followed by lunch anywhere on 5th we’re not too scruffy for.  Ironically it turns out to be a restaurant with it own premium clothing store attached.  But first the shuttle bus to the beach.

Once there, we decide to have a stroll along the Pier.  While not as long, or as burnt down, as your average British pier, it’s fair to say that the view when you look back along it to the shore is infinitely better.  Miles of sun drenched white sand and palms trees populated by bikini bodies from side to side versus snow covered pebbles backed by dreary arcades and hankie topped pensioners in stripy deck chairs. 

The view out to sea is pretty good too and we are kept entertained for a good hour watching a dolphin fishing for lunch all the way around the pier, and seeing huge Pelicans doing the same thing, but with more dive bombing of the fish involved.  We are also treated to the sight of a beautiful Osprey gliding over the water before a quick as you like zip into the waves and up and away with a frankly rather surprised looking fish in its claws.

Our bus driver had warned us that it was going to rain today, and that if it did, he couldn’t pick us up from the pier, but would meet us outside the Bonnie Banana on 5^th.  Well, although it wasn’t raining we decided it would be a good place to start our search for something tasty for lunch.  Possibly the heat, hangover or some other agent has got to us because we decide it would be a good idea to walk from the pier to 5^th Avenue “to clear our heads”.  Here’s a tip, a bracing walk by a wind and rain lashed English beach may well cover that requirement; a walk 6 blocks in 90F plus heat doesn’t.  By the time we reach our destination I’m hallucinating the sounds of Ice Cream vans and of ice tinkling into a cut glass tumbler.

 We can’t see the restaurant anywhere, and it’s only when we are outside a place called Tommy Bahama’s that I realise I possibly misheard our driver earlier.  I think my name is much better, and will now form a chain of restaurants under the moniker and world domination will ensue.  Rather strangely, to either side of the restaurant are ladies and gents clothing stores of the same name.  If you’re into deck shoes, pastels colours and sweaters that only get worn around your shoulders, you’re in for a treat.  Hopefully they won’t make us buy something to change into from our sand crusted and sweat soaked clothing……..

It’s fair to say that the place does look good, and they don’t bat an eyelid at two confused and dangerously dehydrated limeys suddenly staggering into their midst.  Obviously Brits and stupidly walking somewhere is a common occurrence here…

  Due to the previously mentioned neural dysfunction we can think no further than ordering the house burgers, which are absolutely superb, and pints of Yuengling to wash it down with.  The waiting staff are pretty cool too, all asking us where we are from, and if we enjoying Naples.  If there were more places like this it would be better we say!  What I wasn’t expecting was a list of all the other TB’s in the area.  Irony + Americans = Fail.

A quiet day is completed by the cop-out/default choice of the Riverwalk Restaurant and more fabulous fresh fish.  We just avoided a huge lash down (as predicted by our driver, just three hours too late…) and arrive to find all plastic side panels in the place down to protect the diners from the elements.  This has had the unfortunate effect of turning the place into a sauna and I’m about to resort to putting ice cubes down my shorts when we manage to snag a waitress and ask her to raise them back up.  But she’s too short, and requires the assistance of another waiter.  He in turn cannot figure out how to raise it, and so a third person joins in.  Eventually a fourth man appears, carrying what appears to be a crowbar and proceeds to bash the living shit out of the panel, until the manager points out that it has simply fallen off the cable that pulls it up.  It’s not hard to see why he is in charge….

With an early start planned for tomorrow – our last full day – we call and early end to proceedings and head home to do some damage to the wine and cheesecake supplies currently tucked up in the fridge.  It looks like the weather’s going to be good, so perhaps an early visit to a secluded beach will be in order….

Wednesday 19^th

One of the nicest things about being on holiday at a nice hotel is that cool, ice blue, tantalisingly inviting hotel swimming pool.  To a degree it’s how we pick our hotel in the first place.  The more spectacular looking the pool, plus the proximity of it to alcoholic beverages, is one of the most important factors taken into account when flicking through that holiday brochure during deepest, darkest British winter….

  And when you get there, you can’t wait to sample it. You’ve trimmed your pubes up, put your tiniest micro trunks on (the ones you have to tuck your plums into), spread on the Diamond Oil and are ready to rock.  Twenty minutes by the pool at gas mark 8 and it’s time to shown off your once-a-year doggy paddle to the world.  You hitch up your beer gut, swagger to the edge and, having slipped on the wet, shiny tiles that bizarrely surround every pool in the world, gracefully belly flop into the cooling drink.  Only then do you remember you haven’t removed your sunnies, baseball cap or watch…..

 But our pool here at the Bellasera is missing a trick.  Yes it’s beyond beautiful, crystal clear and blue; and yes it’s surrounded by palm trees and fountains and within finger-snapping distance of the bar.  But it is also extremely, unbelievably, unnecessarily hot.  A sign proclaims an average temperature of “no more” than 104F, a mind boggling 40.6C in new money.  My swimming trunks say wash at 30C.  What if they shrink while I’m swimming and turn me into a castrato?  I hear they have a very good opera company here, but it does all seem a bit drastic.  Seriously, this is the only pool I’ve ever swum in and then got back out of to cool down………..

A quick look at agenda version 4.4.1 shows that a visit to Naples Zoo is in order, and so we find ourselves there bright and early in the hope that the animals might all out and running around before it gets to hot.  Sounds like a plan huh?  Well, it would have been, except for a small point.  It appears that Naples Zoo specialises in a particular type of animal.  The type of animal the sleeps during the day.  “See the Malagsy Fosas, only ones in Florida!” proclaims the sign.  Nope, pretty much an empty cage.  “American Porcupines this way!” says another.  We can just see what may, or may not, be its arse in the far corner of the cage.  “Honey Badgers only in four zoos!” How the fuck do they know?  They’re nowhere to be seen!  This is only a small zoo; we could be done by elevenses!

We decide to go and see the Cheetahs being fed.  This sounds really exciting.  Except, again for a couple of minor points.  1) They’re fed from outside the cage, which is, by any stretch of the imagination, boring.  2) Instead of a Muntjac being chucked in and us thrilling to the chase, they appear to being fed pedigree chum.  Add to this that the male cheetah decides to forego breakfast for lying in the shade licking his balls and you can see that we’re starting to think our entry fee may have been better spent in the pub.

Slowly, however, things start to pickup.  There’s the African Leopards.  Beautiful creatures, including an extremely rare black one.  Then there’s the Leopard Tortoise, who I would’ve taken pictures of but the fucker was doing laps around its cage, and didn’t stop for long enough to be snapped.  Whoever named them knew what they were doing. He’s followed by the true star highlight of the day – The Malayan Tigers.  They are jaw-droppingly magnificent.  I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more beautiful creature in my entire life, and unless someone out there has naked pictures of Summer Glau, I don’t think I ever will.

Then we get to see the Honey Badgers.  They are seriously nasty looking dudes, and just a cursory glance at their internet history will give a small taste of what a vicious mofo this animal is:

“A Honey badger is one fearless mother fucker! He is the ultimate badass of the animal kingdom. No one knows what they look like as anyone who's ever seen one has been immediately killed by said badger”

“A honey badger that is bit by one of the most venomous snakes in the world - a puff adder - will pass out for a few minutes, wake up all pissed, and proceed to eat the said snake.”

“The Chuck Norris of the animal kingdom.”

“Africa's most fearless animal despite its small size. They are reputed to go for the scrotum when attacking large animals.”

It’s hardly surprising then that the three in the cage are attempting to kick the living shit out of each other, for lack of anything else to do.

Next stop is showtime and we all get to sit down in the shade while a variety of animals are paraded before us to squeals of delight from the younger (and some not so young) members of the audience.  The undoubted star of the show is a Two Toed Sloth called Molly, quite simply the planet’s most pathetic creature.  The sight of her being put on the floor and becoming a living doormat will live long in the memory!

One of the highlights the Zoo has to offer is the Primate Expedition Cruise, which if not grand sounding enough promises a guided tour through islands of moneys, lemurs and apes, all leaving from the Dock of Lake Victoria.  What you in fact get in a quick five minute schlep round from a muddy ramp with some guy pointing and yelling “MONKEYS”.  The only highlight is the kids in front of asking what’s happening as a pair of lemurs go at like, well, rabbits.

With the small zoo done, and money burning a hole in Lisa’s pocket, we head off to the extremely posh Waterside Shops for some fine dining and retail therapy; there’s a Tiffany’s here you know….

We lunch at the Brio Tuscan Grill, an Italian that has been recommended to us but we’ve never quite got round to visiting before.  It’s fantastic, and that’s even before we get to the food.  I have the Chipotle Chicken & Bacon Panini which unnecessarily comes with fries, while Lisa has a Flatbread pizza………..This comes with a salad, which in most places would be a side dish, but the Bistecca Insalata would challenge two people to eat it on its own.  A wedge of lettuce, Gorgonzola, bacon, Roma tomatoes and creamy parmesan dressing would satisfy the most sizable of appetites but the fact the wedge is the size of an American football, and at least a pound of cheese and bacon has been used, and you start to see the scale of the dish.  The food is all sublime, and too good not to finish, so we groan our way out of there feeling like nothing more than a good sleep, rather than shopping in 95F.

It shouldn’t be possible for a shopping centre to make you feel scruffy.  I never felt scruffy in the Arndale back in the day, nor in the upmarket bazaar that is Bluewater.  But as we pass De Beers Diamonds, Van Cleef & Arpels, Cartier, Hermes and the rest, I do start to think I could have made more effort than a Primark T-shirt and pound shop shorts.  The less said about my Ratners wedding ring the better.  Add in my gut straining against my shirt like a beach ball trying to burst free, and it would be understandable if the shopkeeps here mistook us for refugees from the trailer park down the road.  Cletus really was here…..

Amazingly, with all this bling around us, Lisa can’t find anything that takes her fancy in Tiffany – a first for sure – and as none of the other shops will let us in, no matter how much we rattle the doors, bang on the windows or shout through the letterboxes, I can only assume they’re all out to lunch.

Tuesday 18th

Fabulous, fresh food is a way of life here in Florida, in both the literal and alliterate sense.  Fish and seafood straight from the sea, the best prime rib, pork and corn-fed chicken you’ve ever tasted and the nicest veg – light years away from carrots and peas – that you can wrap your tongue around.  Foodie heaven.  One vegetable they particularly like round here is that poshest of the posh – Asparagus.  Delicious eaten in a soup, as a starter with Parma ham and parmesan or just lightly buttered as a side dish, it never fails to make the mouth water. Of course there is a downside….

 This delicious spring vegetable is of course, almost more famous for the odoriferous effect that it can have on some people – the well known Asapragus Wee effect.  If you feeling smug at not being a smelly bastard because you don’t have stinky wee after a bowl of delicious asparagus soup you, my friend, are in for a surprise.  It was long thought it was to do with digestion, as only 22 to 50% of people ever reported this phenomenon after they had consumed it, the though was the “Lucky” other didn’t have the metabolic ability to create the pee.  Don’t laugh yet though.  It has since been proved that it’s actually how sensitive your sense of smell is that is the key to the problem, and the DNA code-associated nasal receptors are only exist in some people.  So next time you eat asparagus and stand proudly next to me with your non-stinky piss, think again.  Your piss stinks too; I’m just the only one unfortunate enough to be able to smell it.

More aquatic adventures today, as we head 35 miles east along Alligator Alley to the rather ambitiously named Everglades City to take an Air Boat ride.  We’ll head into the Mangrove Forest on the hunt for gators, manatees and possibly the odd dolphin, along with having the native flora and fauna pointed out to us.  Lovely, and the fact that these bastards can reach 55 MPH and don’t have brakes should be big grins all round…..

But first…..

Everglades CITY.  Really?  Perhaps the Cathedral is hidden behind one of the air boat sheds which take up, oh, I don’t know, the size of a couple of footer pitches at the most?  If this tiny place with a population of 408 (seriously, more people live down my road…) is a city then Chislehurst is a sprawling Metropolis.

Anyway, having driven down the obligatory unmade road to the strains of banjo playing we find the grandly name Everglades City Airboat Tours (they were up all night etc etc…) nestled amongst a few other run down looking air boat places and adorned with enough massive flags to make the UN headquarters seem understated.

We share the boat with an American couple who, amazingly, have travelled all the way from Naples, with their 8 year old daughter to experience an air boat ride for the first time.  I make a joke about how I walked past St Paul’s Cathedral everyday for 4 years and never went in, but it is met with glassy stares from our hosts.

The ride is excellent, with our pilot variously whizzing us between low hanging Mangrove trees before “handbrake Turning” us into a lagoon, and lazily drifting us past interesting flora along with a Layman’s explanation of their importance to the environment.  But let’s be honest here, what we really want is the fauna….

…and with a crackling radio call from one of the sister boats, it’s about to deliver in spades.

So we find ourselves coming into a lagoon with one other boat and, swimming in circles around it, a huge, 12 foot croc.  He seems rather intent on something or other, and we soon realise that it’s a large raccoon he has cornered in a tree.  The raccoon is gorgeous looking – the gator not so.  With our arrival in the vicinity, our toothy fiend seems to lose all interest in our furry friend, and makes a beeline toward our boat.  Our less than small captain is up like a shot and goes and stands in front of the little girl in the boat with the sage words “It’s her he’s interested in.”  Seeing a much bigger target the croc backs away but keeps a beady eye on us as our pilot opines “doesn’t fancy taking on a big critter like me.”  Really?  Sorry, but my money would be on the big green motherfucker currently sizing you up.

Eventually the gator decides he’s not getting an easy meal from our party and slinks away, leaving us to get up close and personal with the animal responsible for the word boner.  And a cute little bugger he proves to be.  Unfortunately their reputation here is sullied by their role as the Florida equivalent of urban foxes, where trash cans and bin bags are their favourite source of dinner.  Which leads to rats, which leads to nastiness.  It’s always the pretty ones that cause trouble.

As we head back, the cherry on the icing presents itself when we spot two dolphins feeding right in the middle of estuary, and seemingly having a right good time doing so.  They’re a joy to watch, but also remind us it’s feeding time, so once we’re back on dry land we head off into the “city” to find some grub.  There turns out to be literally one diner, the Island Café, so we end up there.  It’s fine.  Everything is what it says it is and it’s cheap.  But it’s nothing to hang around for, so we’re soon on our way back home, for some R’n’R by the pool before heading off out tonight.

Florida sunsets are so spectacular, and pink in colour, for a very strange reason, a reason starting far away in, of all places, Africa.  Dust clouds from the region are drawn towards the US by prevailing winds and help contribute to the red soil in the Bahamas know as pineapple loam.  The stuff hanging around in the air is also thought to be responsible for the Foot and Mouth outbreak in the UK a few years ago, as well as the brilliant sunsets here.  As always, we seem to get the shitty end of the stick.

Our plan tonight involves us heading down to Naples beach, sinking a few cold ones, and watching the sunset over the pier.  Lucky for us, as the free shuttle bus whisks us towards the beach, the driver suggests we not go to the pier, as there’s nothing else to do there, but go to the Naples Beach Hotel (They must have been up all night etc etc…) and drink cocktails in their Tiki Bar while watching the sun go down.  Turns out to be a brilliant suggestion.  They serve proper size pints, 20 fl oz not poxy 16, have a terrace right on the beach, and have the best rock and hair metal music playing to accompany it all.

The sunset was as spectacular as you can imagine, but even better was the restaurant at the hotel – HB’s.  Having had a couple of beers, and with it suddenly looking like it’s going to piss down, we decide we might as well just eat at the hotel, and are soon seated at a nice inside table, just before the heavens open bible style.  Oh how we chuckle into our vino as the people outside get soaked to the skin.  We are again served food fit for a king.  To accompany the complimentary home made hummus and multi coloured tortilla chips, we chose the Chef’s Appetizer Sampler which included jerk rubbed shrimp, chicken bruschetta and crab cake (with all the accompaniments), which I follow with Florida Snapper and Crab Meat Napoleon (which is gluten free you’ll be pleased to know) while Lisa has Poached Grouper in lemon and white wine herb reduction with orzo pasta.  It is all wonderful!  So good, we decide to come back here on Friday for our final night out. 

And with tomorrow in mind, we decide to forgo our insane idea of walking back to our hotel and instead call up the ever useful shuttle bus to save our legs for exploits yet to come.  If it involves anything like the huge quantities of delicious food we’ve ingested tonight, I think the shuttle bus is going to become a very important part of out trip!

Monday 17th

I think we all dream of having loads of money, nice cars, and to top it all, a massive house somewhere swanky.  If you are a billionaire, you probably have all that, so the only way of being one up on your peers is to have a load of expensive shit – and simply never use it.  Welcome, my friends, to the story of Naples bay and the nicest houses you will ever see.  Houses that cost multi-million dollars.  Houses that are, basically, unoccupied……

After our drive yesterday - and cheesecake and pinot grigio-fest on the balcony last night - we decide to have a lie in for the morning, followed by a leisurely boat trip cruising round the Bay of Naples for the afternoon.  We’ll get to soak up some culture, soak up some sun, and see how the other half, (actually the other 0.00014%) live. 

We arrive nice and early for the boat trip, pick some nice seats upstairs with a good view.  This is all lovely until the boat is invaded by a large group of Hasidic Jews who seem oblivious to everyone else on the boat, take over every spare seat and proceed to talk at the top of their voices to each other irrespective of who might be in the way.  Their inability to sit still and listen to what is going on begs the question “why get on the boat I the first place?”  We’re so overwhelmed by them that Lisa checks downstairs to see if there are any seats free down there.  Nope, full of the other half of the family.  However, we bide our time and when one girl - dressed in ankle long skirt, headscarf and chunky knit jumper, perfect for the weather – walks her child up the isle for the 61^st time we slip out of our seats and head back to where she had been sitting minutes earlier.  Job done.

The ride that follows proves to be mind boggling.  The numbers meaningless after a while.  We’re shown house after house fronting on to the bay that is owned by this or that billionaire, cost 15, 20, 30 million dollars, and has a yacht outside that cost more than the average lottery win.  Then there’s the “art” in their gardens.  $250,000 for a Swigging Swine, made out of recycled champagne bottles in one garden, $350,000 for a gaily painted alligator in another.  “Slightly different” coloured palm trees (like there’s a shortage in Florida!!) imported from Madagascar and costing a cool $6,000 each.  Add to this Olympic sized pools, perfectly manicured lawns and tropical gardens that put Kew to shame and obviously you’d think this is the perfect place to live.  Well, the people who own them don’t seem to think so.  Only 12% of the properties are occupied all year round, with the other 88% occupied for just two to four weeks of the year.  Incomprehensible.  Over a third of America’s billionaires own property here, one can only assume they’re too busy to visit. 

The best story we’re told on the ride was of a neighbourly dispute over an extension one of them built on their house.  The guys next door, who had been resident in his property since the ‘50s, took umbrage when said extension spoilt his view. Revenge was to be sweet.  He got the decorators in and painted his entire house as a Halloween pumpkin.  Three weeks later his neighbours paid him $11 million to move out.  Three DAYS after that the site had been levelled, landscaped and turfed, and bore nothing more on it than a single volleyball net.  To this day, no one has ever seen anyone playing volleyball there.

We’re brought back to reality once back from the trip when we decide to pick up some lunch and end up at the Tin City area of Naples, an area so opposite on first sight to the rest of the city that you can’t really believe it hasn’t be bulldozed down to make room for more volleyball nets.  But dig deeper and it’s just that shabby chic raising its head again.  The little shops are all posh boutiques, and the restaurants all top notch with mouth watering fare and eye watering prices.  And the vibe right down on the bay front is good.

We lunch and the really shabby chic Riverwalk Restaurant, where any thoughts of this being a genuinely shabby place are swept immediately away by the separate Bloody Mary Bar (you can mix your own one!) and the presence of several different champagnes on the wine list.  Fish is definitely becoming the default order so a blackened grouper sandwich is ordered.  It is gorgeous with a coleslaw and Cuban black beans and rice which would have been a meal on their own.  Lisa has the fish tacos with chipotle aioli which are to die for.   So good, we decide to head back here for dinner later.

We head back to the hotel to for a chill out and a couple of cold ones before heading out again, and I’m struck once more by how nice the hotel is.  The lift that arrives to take us up to our floor is all stylish brushed aluminium, recessed and illuminated knobs and a clever little window so people can see in if it gets jammed.  Or this is what you think until you step into the thing, at which, point it’s nagging resemblance to another metal box with such appointments becomes blindingly obvious.  Because it feels like we’ve stepped into an oven.  Peering out the little window gives me the peculiar sensation of knowing how a Christmas turkey must feel; well, if it was still alive when you put it in.  In the one floor to our stop, the sweat is dripping down your back and the panic that you could boil to death in here in a few minutes if the lift broke down is palpable.  Fortunately, this does not happen and we’re soon in the air conditioned luxury of our condo with a couple of Sams to replace the fluids lost in the oven lift.

Our second visit today to the Riverwalk of the day is as good as the first.  Excellent food and wine, sun setting over the bay, and not so humid that sitting outside is uncomfortable.  We go for the special which is flounder served in a coconut butter sauce with shrimps, mash and lovely baby asparagus.  Devine.  At least for a little while we can all live like the other half; we just couldn’t do it for very long here!

Sunday 16^th

Driving in Florida is surely a piece of cake.  Wide multi-lane roads, good signage and low speed limits should lead to a relaxing and enjoyable experience cruising along its sun drenched and palm tree lined highways.  So long as you remember a few things.  Indicators are optional.  No space is too small for an American to pull into, usually without indicating.  You can both undertake and overtake.  This usually happens at the same time, most often with no indicating.  If you try to stick to right hand lane in order to avoid all this mayhem, you’re going to find yourself forced to leave the highway at every junction as this becomes the “right lane must exit” slip road.  Oh, and the signs are in fact rubbish and the speed limit more a general suggestion than something you need to abide by……

A week has whizzed by and we find ourselves packing up from the Diamondhead and setting off on the short trip down the coast to Naples.  But not without a quick diversion to the outlet mall to buy more pants.  With Calvin Klein doing their signature chuddies at less than half price, it’s too good an opportunity to miss and I come home laden with 12 pairs of them.  They were still pricey though, so expect to see me parading round at some point in nowt but me trollies, arrows etched into my skin pointing at that all important logo.

It is but a short trip down the I-75 from Ft Myers to Naples, but there is a real change of atmosphere from our earlier stop over.  And that change is money.  The place is dripping with it.  From the constant flow of cars from the like of Porsche, Bentley, Ferrari – and more Maseratti’s than you could shake a stick at – to the yachts in the harbour, to the shops on 5^th Ave and 3^rd Street this is one upscale place.  Although there’s money, it appears that Shabby Chic is the order of the day.  But where I’m wearing a Harry’s Bar baseball cap, M&S T-Shirt and Quiksilver shorts, the locals sport Prada headgear, Gucci Ts and Ralph Lauren bermudas.  The casual observer may not note the difference, but the moneyed locals do, and we are obviously little more than a piece of discarded chewing gum clinging to their Jimmy Choos. 

It’s very noticeable as we check in to our lovely hotel, the Bellasera.  Everyone is in beach wear, but we look distinctly scruffy compared to others.  But for all the odd looks we get, the staff couldn’t be more charming, even if they only have our room booked until Friday – a night sleeping on the beach beckons!  It’s all sorted quite quickly and before you know it we’re in a hotel room the size of a decent sized flat back home.  Huge kitchen with American sizes appliances, dining area to seat six, living area with comfy sofa and massive flat screen TV.  I like it here J

Of course the first thing we need to do is some shopping, as it has been at least two hours since our last visit to a mall.  On the pretence of going for something to eat we head off to the Coastland Center.  There’s a Cheesecake Factory here, and we head in for some food.  Bearing in mind our previous encounter with this chain, we try to order smaller plates for lunch, but I suppose that if they can serve up a lunch salad that is too big to eat we really are spitting in the wind.  My cheese steak come in a foot long roll, and Lisa’s chicken and avocado is as massive as the last time I had it.  On the way out we stop by the Cheesecake Counter and are drooling so hard we have to order something.  Our two slices of cake - a 30^th anniversary Chocolate and Original, and my fave, the Reese’s Peanut butter chocolate cheesecake - are massive and cost the no less enormous sum of $16 the pair.

On our way back to the room we make a diversion via Publix to pick up some supplies.  If another indication is needed to shown how up market this area is it can be seen in the even more up market nature of this store compared to the other Publix we’ve shopped it.  It so posh I could quite happily live in here, even though I suspect that the tank full of live Lobsters for sale at the fish counter might keep me awake at night.

As we wheel our purchases to the car, I note what Lisa has bought as “supplies”.  Six bottles of beer, six bottles of wine, a loaf of bread and some orange juice.  When questioned about this she replied “Well, I didn’t want to but too much beer………”

The real show of how different it is here though comes on our first night out when we choose a nice looking Italian Restaurant and step inside for some tucker.  Once again all the locals are in Ts and Jeans or shorts, so we shouldn’t feel out of place – but we do.  Then there’s Greasy Eddie our waiter – any more gel in his hair and he could star in a Soul Glo commercial - who gets it wrong from the get go.  Now usually the first thing you get in ANY American eatery is large glasses of iced water, sometimes even with a cheeky slice of lemon added for that little extra twist.  But when Edward asks us if we want water and we say “yes” he reels off the names of several no doubt expensive designer waters all the way from Italy.  When my answer is “No, tap,” I receive a look of palpable derision.  What is amusing is that most of the other tables have school-canteen metal jugs on their tables containing Finest Florida Faucet, so WTF?

Whilst Steady Ed is off gobbing in our water we peruse the wine list.  On which the cheapest bottle is “House” at an eye watering $48.  Luckily they do have one slight bargain on the list.  For $11 you can get house white served in what they charmingly call a Quartino – basically a small specimen bottle that looks well used by the time it comes to the table.  When Ed the Ted returns and we order a couple of those, I see something die behind his eyes – with hindsight it was probably his brain.  Again a quick look round shows most tables are drinking those little carafes so why is our choice so upsetting to him?  Perhaps we had “tourist rip off” written all over us and we were nothing of the sort. 

To be fair, both the wine and the food are excellent – completely top drawer, a lovely Linguine Vongele for Lisa, and Linguine and a spicy crab mixture for me.  It’s so good in fact you really might like to relax with a desert from the well appointed sweet trolley and wash it down with perhaps a fine liqueur and a smoky espresso. 

Well, we never got to find out.  As soon as my knife and fork are put together in the middle of my plate, and while I’m still wiping pasta sauce from my chin, Ed the Head has deposited the check on our table and bid us good evening.  Erm, hello?  The joke, however, is on him.  The $90 bill is a full 30 less than last night - a restaurant we stayed in because of the great atmosphere and superb service – and so Eddie boy is hoist by his own petard.  We give him a minuscule tip – well, if you’ve got the name you might as well have the game – and show him that every stereotypical thought he had about us English and our tipping is true.

We end up back in our room, and, as our evening was cut short by Edward Dickhands we have room for some of the wine and cheesecake waiting for us in the fridge.  The “room” soon becomes relative as after two mouthfuls of the orgasmic peanut butter cheesecake I can’t eat anymore.  It may have been expensive but by god it’s good, and going to last the whole week by the look of it.  At least if the driving wasn’t a piece of cake (apologies in advance), this certainly is…….