Bucko's World

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…….