Let's pause for a sec on my thought process here: when and why did I decide to take my nine year old granddaughter to Florida?
The when part is easy: in the dead of winter. Maybe January or February, I thought about October. And why Florida -- specifically why Vero Beach Florida? Well, last year, on her Fall school break, I took the girl all the way to southern California. She loved it. She would have liked a rerun of that trip. But California is a long flight and in the end, we spent most of our time there either at the beach or by the pool. I did not want to do much more than that, given that I had just recovered from Covid and besides, I'm really not a fan of lots of driving. Just getting to the hotel was enough for me.
Why not give her a taste of Florida instead?
I searched for many days for a place in that southern state that wasn't just a string of high-rise condos or hotels. A place that wouldn't ask of me to drive too much. A place with access to the water. Of course, all that searching happened before the hurricanes came ashore this Fall.
Vero Beach was the rare bird that seemed to have it all: a low key feel to it. A beach town, right by the ocean. In fact, the place I chose -- Kimpton Vero Beach Hotel-- is on one of the barrier islands. Yes, we know how that's faring these days, but from the point of view of the visitor, especially one from the cold Midwest, that seems like a pretty wonderful thing. (Then of course the tornadoes roared through.We'll see how things look there these days...)
We're not going straight to Vero Beach the first day. Our flights (you have to take two from Madison) have us land in Orlando, which is the closest I can get to without spending a fortune. I dont really want to drive 100 miles toward evening, so we'll overnight in Orlando and much to the girl's frustration, we will not go to Disneyworld or any of the other theme parks. Many reasons for that, perhaps the most important being that her brothers cannot be left behind on such an adventure. And, too, I am not a good companion for any amusement park since I do not like rides at all. (I finally went along with a Disney trip for my two daughters when they were younger. I wasn't a total party pooper, but nor was I as thrilled with being there as they deserved me to be. And with age, my attitude toward these places has only grown worse. So no theme parks.)
Okay, a night in Orlando, where she can wistfully wish she had a more amusement park loving gaga, then three nights by the ocean.
But first, we have to get there.
I'm up early. Too early to feed the chickens. A quick breakfast with my best breakfast companion...
... and I'm off to the airport, where the parents drop off the girl.
We pass security. We have about an hour. We come to the gate. "I'm hungry! It smells of bacon here..." Growing child... But she has a point: it does smell of bacon. She loves it, but has sworn off all meat. She settles for a muffin and fruit I brought from the farmhouse.
We catch the 9:25 to Detroit, grab a very unhealthy lunch for her there (fries and frozen yogurt -- it's hard to be a pescatarian at the airport!), and an only slightly better one for me (a Kind salted caramel almond bar and a latte at Starbucks -- she tells me: that's what my other grandparents like too! It's old people food!), then take the somewhat longer flight to Orlando. (I do stuff her with inflight pistachios. Delta is big on packets of pistachios.)
Traveling with a kid. In their younger years, it's such a mental and physical challenge! And then they hit about 9, 10 -- all the way until they're teens, and if they have travel in their blood and an adventurous spirit -- they are fabulous on the road. They're excited by fountains, by lights, by moving walkways -- and that's just the travel part. They lap up information as if it were candy. They challenge you, they assert very tiny preferences, but they haven't yet realized how much power lies in their little hands and so they go along.
It is true that as I get older, I worry about how many more years of travel I have in me. I have plenty of energy, but I don't like the fact that I seem more prone to catching stuff when I'm away from home. I'm not quite an Ed ("it's too much trouble to get there" -- he tells me, as he passes on another sailing crew opportunity in the Caribbean). Me, I'll go to the trouble. And yet... I'm sure you've been picking up these small threads of worry here, on Ocean: how long will I keep on "going to the trouble?"
We land in Orlando, we cab over to our hotel (the R-C Grande Lakes, chosen almost entirely for its cool pool)...
My idea is that we simply check out what's here. For tomorrow's splash and play. Her idea is that we should use the few minutes before dinner for a quick swim. Let's see who got to decide on that one...
(elevator frolic)
Okay. She's in.
We eat dinner at the Highball and Harvest, which is supposed to be the informal "fresh farm produce" eatery at the hotel. And it is. Informal. I do not check the farm credentials. She chooses the kid salmon, I take the southern dish I grew to love back in the days when I visited my grown daughters in D.C.: shrimp and grits. Absolutely delicious.
Dessert? They've left us plenty of sweet treats in the hotel room. We'll stick with that.
In so many ways, we are lucky. Florida can get the rains in the fall, but as far as I can tell, we'll have plenty of sunshine and warm weather. It's not a place where I'd like to be with her in bad weather. The success of a Florida escape, fortunately or unfortunately depends on warm and dry days. I am so grateful for what we have now.
Tomorrow we head east!
with love...
