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Name: Tiffany
Country: United States
State: Texas
Birthday: 1/31/1975
Gender: Female
Interests: friends... family... art... pets, especially my own... architecture... furniture... and swing dancing
Expertise: design
Occupation: Advertising
Industry: Media
Message: message me
Member Since:
5/6/2004
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| Today we had to get moving early, trying to get to St. John. We packed our day bag and went to breakfast, and visited just a few minutes with Joy and her boyfriend James. Then we walked to the car. (En route I realized the vine covering the trunks of the palm trees was philodendron. The leaves were a foot wide! I don't know why mine never look like that.  )
We made it to the car barge in much better time today, knowing where we were going, and backed into place in the parking lot. When the ferry arrived, the parking situation started making sense to me. It wasn't like the car ferries in, say, Galveston; this ferry only had a ramp on one end, not both. Cars have to be backed onto it and then driven forward off the same side. Backing up is too difficult for some drivers, especially one National Parks employee on vacation with her sister's family. The ferry employee who was waving her onto the barge was cracking up as she finally made it aboard on about her third try.
They packed us in. Cars were parked so close that both David and I had to exit through our rental car's passenger door, and then we couldn't even walk between some cars. We found the lady employee who was gathering the fees, but since she was doing that according to the order in which we'd pulled aboard  we gave up and figured she'd find us when she was ready for us.
We went on up to the second story of the barge and sat on benches in the sun. One of our guidebooks had warned that sunburn is a concern when on the ferry, and yes, you're right out there in the blazing sun for twenty minutes. There were palm trees planted in pots on both stories, which looked cool and yet just a little out of place.  The views were amazing, St. Thomas behind us and St. John in front.
We got amusement out of watching the National Parks employee interact with her family. She was wearing her uniform as well as official-looking gear and seemed to be spouting information left and right, and at the same time she seemed clueless on some counts. 
Just before we arrived in Cruz Bay, St. John, the lady ferry employee came by, collected our fee and gave us a map of St. John. She informed us that a new car barge dock had been built that the map didn't show, and that was where we'd be arriving, not at the passenger ferry dock. Good information, and yet, it's hard to know where you're going when you don't know where you are.
We drove out of the car barge lot and into Cruz Bay, and were immediately somewhat lost. I could follow along with the map, which contained all the buildings and stores and restaurants, and yet not realize that we needed to turn in time to actually make the turn. Add to that the fact that most of the streets were temporarily one-way due to some construction and...gosh.  Cruz Bay is close in and not very big, but chock-full of cute historic buildings that now house shops absolutely crawling with tourists. After about our third trip through the tiny little town, David pulled over and between the one map and a guidebook, we figured out where we were trying to go. (Neglected to get a picture of the smoothie stand built in-and-around a broken-down truck at the edge of one parking lot.) Then after we drove up to the National Park Service office, we couldn't figure out where to park; there were no open places anywhere. I hopped out and asked a NP employee, who was horribly rude. She told me flatly we were supposed to park right there beside the building. I meekly pointed out that all the spaces were either marked for NPS employees or the handicapped and she didn't take it well. We decided to follow her direction and park there in the single open space anyway.
The small NPS office is supposedly the first thing any visitor must see...and the very brief and basic nature exhibits were interesting...but the rest of you can skip it.
You would think we would now have known how to get out of town, but no. It took us two tries, but we did it; we headed out of town on Centerline Road/Route 10 toward Coral Bay at the opposite end of the island. Pretty much as soon as you leave "downtown" Cruz Bay, you are in the "country." There are houses, but they are built out of sight from the road. There is much, much less traffic than either in Cruz Bay or on St. Thomas, but there are more big trucks, mostly water tankers. You're going around these hairpin curves (on a steep incline, of course) and naturally right then you meet a truck too long to stay in his own lane. The driver lays on the horn and everyone comes to a complete stop while he slowly cuts the corner, and then everyone goes right on. The scenery is amazing, though, since Centerline road runs along a ridge across the island. Sixty percent of St. John is a national park, so the scenery won't be changing much; but on the other hand, this (combined with the views) has caused housing prices to skyrocket. We were half-seriously thinking of moving to St. John until we found out that a three-bedroom, two-bath house goes for $3-4 million. 
We passed a couple of little junctions with a house and a gift shop or cafe or two, and after we passed the one at Bordeaux Mountain Road I mentioned I'd really like to go back. I'm really glad I said something, as the view may have been the best of all (somehow missed the mention in the guidebook). Right there beside the road the plants were amazing: amazing crotons, mini palms, bromeliads, snake plants, dracaena and yucca tip--I can recognize the ones I've killed.
We went into the little art gallery and gift shop for a few minutes and ended up buying our one souvenir of the trip: a Christmas ornament of a sea turtle with sunglasses, surfing. (I'm not a big shopper, but the luggage weight limit of the upcoming sea plane jaunt kept me on the straight and narrow this trip.)
Then we continued on our way. It was at about this point that I remembered and mentioned that we hadn't seen any donkeys or goats yet. Literally within seconds we rounded a bend and had to stop for a herd of donkeys --eight, including a young dark one.
After a minute, they cleared the road and we started off again, and then had to stop for a herd of goats. We thought the whole sequence was pretty funny. I was getting hungry by now, and I said something about hoping we got to lunch soon, and again almost immediately we arrived in Coral Bay and saw a sign for the restaurant.  That was the extent of my super powers, but I was pleased with myself.
(Side note: I completely forgot to mention in my first entry of this trip, that that day--Wednesday--was my day for being right. We got to the SA airport and David said something about turning our luggage in right then to the security checkpoint; I thought that was funny, as you always have to go up to the counter first. I mean, the luggage needs to be tagged. Sure enough, in spite of the fact that the online check-in screen had directed otherwise, the security officer sent us to the counter. Then as we were standing in line, I realized we should actually be at the computer kiosk, and a staffer indeed turned us that way. There were a couple other similar incidents, which I thoroughly enjoyed. Unfortunately, the whole thing ended all too soon. Some of us just have to enjoy the taste of being right whenever we can get it. )
We ate lunch in Coral Bay at Skinny Legs, an open-air bar and burger joint. Kitsch abounded, from the menu written out on a surfboard, to the mobile of actual old tennis shoes, to the self-serve water in Igloo coolers, to the mottoes: "a pretty okay place" and "same day service." Unfortunately the drinks were not that great (kind of watery), but the food was pretty good.
We continued along Centerline Road up to part of the actual bay. At least at this section, it didn't really have a beach, just rocks, but it was beautiful.
We had to backtrack a little to the North Shore Road/Route 20, which we wanted to take back around to the west. We wanted to take a different route up to it, but after ten minutes of wrong turns (during which we ran into several large herds of goats as well as a lot of chickens, and saw a combination police department/surf board rental shop) we gave up and took Route 10, which we had come in on. Along the way there were many better views of Coral Bay.
Then, although we didn't really have time, we stopped at the ruins of one of the many sugar plantations. The stonework was pretty, even if more simplistic than the same pattern on the old plantation houses on St. Thomas. It looks as though they used the more plain, large rocks as their main building material, and then set smaller pieces of red and blue rock into the mortar between the big ones. (I think it was at about this point that David noticed that one of the tires on the car was getting low. We didn't really have time to do anything about it, so we hoped it would hang in there.)
Then we finally made it to Trunk Bay. It is gorgeous. Unfortunately we only took an underwater camera down to the beach. The underwater snorkeling trail itself is overrated, but there is a lot to see: many different fish, lots of beautiful coral, and plants. I wish the pictures had turned out better.
As we were snorkeling, I started feeling not so great. When we had been out there about an hour, I felt horrible. We started back to the beach, but before we could get there, I felt like I could just die. I felt like I was going to lose anything I had ever eaten and that I wouldn't want to eat anything ever again. David got me back to the beach and I sat for awhile; I was awfully dizzy. We finally decided that I must have gotten seasick in the waves, which were not even actually that big, and that must have also been the reason I felt so bad in the car after snorkeling at Sapphire Beach on Thursday. I can't remember ever being seasick before this trip, but gosh, it is bad stuff. We gathered our things, I rinsed off in the showers, and we started back for the ferry.
It took us a little bit to find our way to the car barge dock, especially with the construction, but we did it. There wasn't really a parking lot, so we parked in line off to the side of the road. We were only the second car in line, so we knew we had just missed the previous ferry, and it would be a little while before the next one arrived. A little while later, funnily enough, the NP employee we'd seen on the barge pulled in with her family, a car or two behind us. She had to run up to the front of the line and ask if she was in the right place, if this was really a line for the car ferry, and if it would be coming soon.
Again, the views from the ferry were beautiful.
When we arrived back on St. John, David found a gas station, but had some trouble situating the car so he could access the air pump. We had to pull in on the right, which didn't give the other cars much room, but everyone was flexible and figured out how to work around it. Back at the hotel, we cleaned up, got the car (I think it was here that I saw a hermit crab crossing the sidewalk  ), picked up Charles and Chaia, and went to Mim's Seaside Bistro for the "cast party." We were handed glasses of rum punch as soon as we walked in, and they kept coming. We chatted with Rob and Liz, Mark and Katy, Rob and Michelle, Alissa and Tom, Sam, Jody and others. After awhile we were directed to the tables and David and I ended up at one by ourselves...very romantic, looking out over the bay. We were served a Caesar salad, and then surf 'n' turf...a huge platter apiece, with a delicious fillet and half a Caribbean lobster, much bigger than the Atlantic ones. Seriously, any three of us could have shared one plate and had more than enough. The lobster was in the house specialty coconut curry sauce and was to die for. I think dessert was Key lime pie.
The speeches and toasts were long and heartfelt, and it was sweet to hear from Rob and Liz's parents, friends and family how much they are loved.
David and I were bushed after our long day and we ended up calling it a night early, about the time the grandparents did.
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| We planned to spend today on St. John, since it was the day we had the most free time. But both David and I had lots of trouble getting out of bed, then we had to find and pack the stuff we needed for the day, and the breakfast buffet included with our room took awhile. (Granola bars would have been quicker. ) Then we ended up going back to our room for stuff we'd forgotten, checked postcard prices at the hotel gift shop ($3.00 each!  ), had to get the car, and then go rent snorkel equipment. And along the way, I had to keep exclaiming at the plants and trees. Seriously, this must be where houseplants go when they die.
I had searched for equipment outfitters online while planning the trip, and chosen Underwater Safaris due to its location and prices. I had printed the e-mail correspondence and tried to print a Google map of the location using the address they gave. In the VI, a lot of roads are named and also numbered. Almost without fail, Google is programmed with the moniker no one actually uses. But surprisingly, after calling the shop only once en route, we found the retail center in Havensight (between the hotel and Charlotte Amalie) fine and got to the store.
We tried on masks and fins, rented those, and bought postcards (three for $1 ), a laminated VI fish identification card and a waterproof pouch for David's keys and wallet, and stamps from the post office next door. (My plan was to use the time on the ferry to write the cards.) Then we started for Red Hook, at the east end of St. Thomas, and the ferry to St. John. We found the passenger ferry terminal with only a few wrong turns along the way, but couldn't seem to locate the car ferry. I think we finally stopped and asked for directions. Turns out we should have been looking for signs for the "barge." We paid our $3 VIDOT (or whatever) fee and pulled into the parking lot.
Everyone was pulled in backwards and parked in rows as tight as possible, facing away from the dock, which made no sense to me. Whatever...we followed suit and backed in close. After about 45 minutes of waiting (and applying sunscreen, since you can get a sunburn riding the ferry), David finally got out and asked when the ferry would be arriving. He was told that they weren't running a full schedule, since this is the off season, and it might be awhile yet. At this point it we weren't going to get to St. John until after noon, and we were going to have to take the 4:30 ferry back, so we decided to scrap our plans and stay on St. Thomas today.
Since we were already on the east end, we drove on around northwest a little around to Sapphire Beach. I don't remember there being a sign for the beach itself, but there was one for the Sapphire Beach Resort. We turned in and got a parking pass from the guard, who told us to place it on the car's dash and that we didn't "want to pay $180 to take a boot off the car." (All of the beaches in the USVI are public, and the resorts are required to allow public access, but they want to know who you are.) We parked, got out of our shorts, left our t-shirts on to guard against sunburn, applied more sunscreen (I was a little paranoid because I was still getting over a sunburn from the day before we left), and gathered our stuff.
We walked along between the buildings, past the refreshment stand, and down to the beach, which was lined with chaise lounges. We set down a few things under a tree, got our masks and flippers and got in the water already. The sand was white coral, the bay was semicircular, and the water a brilliant aquamarine, with dark shapes of coral reefs.
I tried for awhile to get the hang of snorkeling again. I forget each time that it is so foreign. I feel a little panicked and I breathe way too fast until I finally just look at the interesting stuff underwater. That gets my mind off the breathing, which of course then just happens naturally.
There wasn't a whole lot to see right there close to the beach, so we swam a little farther out and tried again. David was having trouble swimming with the flippers, so I tried to see what he was doing differently than I was. It was kind of strange to get something like that better than he did and quicker than he did. I think he was bending his knees as though he was riding a bike, rather than keeping his legs straight.
The underwater landscape wasn't amazing, and it wasn't that colorful, but there was coral and a few fish. Then all of the sudden I saw a huge sting ray about 15 feet over from me, gliding slowly along the ocean floor 10 or 15 feet down. It had to be two and a half or three feet across. I put my head up, grabbed the snorkel from my mouth and yelled for David (who was right behind me, of course). He saw it and started taking pictures with the first of our underwater cameras. We exclaimed over it for awhile and then went looking for more. We saw another sting ray and two sea turtles, big ones, maybe two and a half feet long. The first was near the bottom, munching away on sea grass. So cool! 
Their flippers are a lot less thick and a lot more flexible than I had thought, more like the tail of a big fish. And then somehow I missed it, but David saw the second one surface for a breath and then swim away.
We swam on over to the side of the little bay where there was a bigger reef with more fish. I was very preoccupied, trying to remember all the different fish so I could identify them later. There were pale blue ones, a few bright blue ones, some little blue and yellow ones, and several different kinds of parrot fish. There was brain coral, elkhorn coral, and others, and pointy black anemones. After about an hour, we headed back to the beach for a break and laid on the chaise lounges.
I was still tired from the trip, and my head and stomach didn't feel that great, so I tried to relax in the shade and just be. David sunned for awhile and then went swimming. Then we gathered our stuff and started back for the car. Along the way we saw a sign advertising the beach chairs and realized they were for rent, so we went up to the shop and paid. They were something like $12 each (!) for the public and we regretted our consciences as well as missing the sign on our way in.
I think at this point we started looking for Drake's Seat, the lookout at the highest point on St. Thomas. Supposedly Sir Francis Drake kept an eye on his fleet from this spot. Finding it was a bit of a challenge, though, as the signage in the VI is sorely lacking. We were trying to follow one road, but often you have to turn at intersections to stay on that same route. We also knew we should be close to Sib's Mountain Bar and Restaurant, where we planned to have lunch. David finally pulled over into someone's driveway and called Sib's for directions, as I was completely starving (I guess snorkeling takes it out of you?). I looked over and saw a four-foot long iguana on the top of a retaining wall, munching away on something. Unfortunately the pictures didn't turn out, but there will be more iguana pictures to come.
On our way higher up the mountain (and back down again, as we tried to find the lookout and/or the restaurant, anything!), there were hairpin curves and switchbacks, with gorgeous scenery on first one side and then the other. I was getting hungrier as well as sick to my stomach, whipping my head both ways and trying to keep up with the assents and descents.
Finally found Drake's Seat...
and enjoyed the scenery for awhile.
Then we got back in the car and resumed our search for Sib's. A couple more phone calls didn't seem to help, so we wandered up, down and all around and I kept feeling worse and worse. Finally happened upon it (from the opposite direction we should have) at about 2:45--only to find it didn't open until 4:00. Don't know why whoever had answered the phone didn't mention that fact, but whatever.
So we continued our exploration and drove towards Charlotte Amalie (all of about a mile away). At this point I wanted food, any food, as long as it was real, but David thought the area of town we were in looked a little too sketchy for food. On about the third time through this one section I decided that the sketchiness must just be the buildings' exteriors--they were advertising food, and it surely must be edible! David finally found a parking place a block over, passing chickens scratching in the grass of an empty lot, and we walked in to Dickie's Fast Food.
Dickie's is evidently mostly a bar, and probably doesn't get popular until nighttime, but I was past the point of caring. There were only two tables, which were plastic picnic tables against one wall, and no chairs except for a few bar stools. The liquor behind the bar was displayed on a bookcase. Both restrooms bore "out of order" signs, but the proprietor directed me to the ladies' anyway (other than the toilet seat being duct taped together, the facilities were functional). There were no menus; the drinks were listed on a piece of poster board tacked to the wall. I was directed back to the entry/take out counter to view the food offerings written on a chalkboard, and ordered a cheeseburger (tomato and lettuce cost extra).
That cheeseburger was one of the best ever, even though it was served in a styrofoam take-out container. The onions were sauteed, and I'm pretty sure the patty was hand-formed. David was much less than impressed, and maybe his perspective was the more accurate one, but gosh, it hit the spot in a big way.
Then we drove on into the center of town and found a place to park. I had planned to tour the old Dutch fort on the edge of the harbor, but it is closed and fenced off for renovations.
We walked around it anyway, I tried to get an idea of the architecture, and then we walked through town a little. The Dutch flavor is still very present, with narrow streets and the brick or brightly-painted plastered stone buildings built right up to the sidewalks--reminded me a little of the French Quarter in New Orleans, especially with the galleries and balconies.
Most of the buildings have dark-painted shutters on the windows, supposedly to protect against hurricanes (although as they're closed and padlocked at night, they must protect from break-ins too). The terrain is hilly like San Francisco, and the neighborhoods around downtown are very steep. It is difficult to tell the neighborhood streets from driveways, and at one point we found ourselves at a dead end between houses, with a mama hen and her chicks beside a dumpster scratching through garbage.
Then David found one of the "real" restaurants that was highly recommended: Cuzzin's Barbecue.
The name had made me picture an open-air sidewalk joint, but it was fairly nice, in a historic brick and stone building, with cloth napkins and tablecloths, and really nice art on the walls. David got barbecued chicken (apparently stewed, rather than grilled) with fungi (a cornmeal pudding made with okra), fried plantains, and rice with pigeon peas, all of which were excellent. I ordered a mango colada, which was excellent--my favorite drink of the whole trip.
We walked around downtown a little more, avoiding all the jewelry and high-end clothing stores. Then we made our way back to the car and back to the hotel, and got cleaned up for a reception for wedding guests, held at the hotel bar. The open-air terrace was nice and so was the sunset. We visited with Liz and Rob, Katy and Mark, Rob and Michelle, Mrs. Emery, Sam and met some of Rob's State Department friends, who are fascinating to talk to. Rob Hays highly recommended the mojitos, but commented that the quantity of mint made it seem that one was drinking salad toward the bottom of the glass. Evidently the bartender was heavy with the mint, because they had run out of it by the time David got to the bar. He brought me a peach dacquiri and got himself an Irish martini, following a tip from Mr. McCutcheon.
Then after awhile David went to get the car, Charles and Chaia and I met him, and we started off for Romano's, an Italian restaurant. I want to point out here that Charles and Chaia got into the car again of their own free will. Unfortunately, although David had gotten more used to driving on the left since the previous night, the island had not grown any more signs. We made several turns correctly according to the map, but then had to call the restaurant for help. People in the VI aren't much help with directions; they don't know the number of the road you're on, because no one calls roads by the numbers posted. But on the other hand, there are very few signs with street names, either. The person on the phone could tell me that I would pass two gas stations, and fruit stands and... We called again, wondering if we would have to turn to stay on the correct road, and had to turn on it before we could get an answer. Found a place for a u-turn and tried again. I called a third time and started describing the buildings we were passing (taco stand-type cafes, etc.) and was told we were on the right road, and that after passing two fruit stands we would be close. After the fruit stands I called a fourth time and the guy said we'd gone too far. We turned around again, passed some lighted basketball courts, and Charles saw the restaurant on a side street (!).
The restaurant was actually worth the trouble finding it, as unbelievable as that seemed. The menu choices were amazing, and after the waiter told us the four or five specials of the day I don't know how I ever chose. We started off with the "polenta of the day" (Esther, eat your heart out ) which was spinach polenta with red sauce. Then we ordered. I got the featured salad, which was white beans marinated in olive oil (and maybe herbs?) over beefsteak tomato slices (sounds terribly plain, but boy, was it good); David got veal scallopini marsala; Chaia got fettucini alfredo, I think; and Charles got the linguini with clams. So very good. We had to wait quite awhile for our meals, but the conversation was great and the art on the walls very interesting. The piece across from me was a triptych with the shapes of wine bottles, corks and corkscrews all overlapping, called "No Screw Caps!" For dessert David and I got a merengue, whipped cream and chocolate creation and I don't remember what Charles and Chaia got.
Our return to the hotel involved quite a few less u-turns, and believe it or not, no phone calls whatsoever.
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| I apologize in advance once again for the length of these posts. I know I'm putting in way too much detail for any readers, and yet, I don't want to forget anything from this trip myself.
David and I dragged ourselves out of bed at 5:15 and put the last few things in the suitcase we were sharing. (Note to self: do not stay up until after midnight the night before the next trip, packing.) We made it to the airport by about 6:00 and caught our flight to Atlanta. Then we had six hours to kill.
I had searched online for opinions as to whether seeing something in Atlanta was possible with this much time on our hands. TripAdvisor mentioned things to do and see, but the hassle of getting out of the airport, finding transportation and getting back through security in time just didn't seem worth it. So we sat.
We ate lunch at Houlihans and wondered why we keep trying that chain. We walked around and found a semi-quiet spot; I tried to take a nap and David cleaned out sent items from his computer. After awhile we gave in to the pull of the Ben and Jerry's across the corridor and got a scoop of peanut butter cookie dough ice cream. People were buying their cookie sundaes (which looked as if they'd each feed four to six people) like they were going out of style. When we had just one hour left, we walked to our departure gate and settled in again. Then I happened to look across the seating area and thought, "That girl looks like Chaia Huff." The girl turned her head and someone who looked like Charles was sitting across from her. We started visiting and catching up; they had killed five hours there in the terminal.
We boarded our flight, enjoyed the exit row seats, and watched Duplicity on the personal screens this newer plane had. (The film was good, but the story wasn't that great. Perhaps my expectations were too high.) When we landed on St. Thomas and stepped off the plane, deboarding outside the airport, the view of the island was gorgeous. They've built the runway down almost at sea level (since there was no natural flat land on the island) and you look up at the hills. It was dark and the lights of the houses shone here and there from the hillside, almost distracting us from the sudden heat and humidity.
We walked to the terminal and got our free samples of Cruzan rum at the door (pineapple and mango--really good). Charles took two since Chaia isn't drinking these days; he says he's drinking for three. David headed for the Avis counter and the rest of us waited for luggage. This particular terminal is in an open-air airplane hangar, un-air conditioned, and very warm. David got the car details settled, Charles and Chaia gathered their luggage, and I stood around wondering if our one suitcase had been lost. Finally I realized that it was the one that had been circling for 15 minutes; I just didn't recognize it upside down. Oops.  At least I had the excuse that it is somewhat new.
Then the adventure began. We all walked out to the rental car lot, loaded the stuff, and David got ready. In the Virgin Islands, cars are driven on the left side of the road. That is different enough...but due to geographical proximity, the cars are regular models from the mainland US, with the steering wheel also on the left. David maneuvered out of the parking lot (not a biggie) and turned correctly onto the left side of the road.
We had maps of the island, both detailed ones printed off the internet and more official ones picked up at the airport. Heading for town (Charlotte Amalie) was fairly easy as there weren't that many roads to choose from. But in the town we had to make a couple of turns and the roads aren't marked very well. Add construction to that and we started racking up the u-turns (managing to turn out onto the left side each time, at least). Charles and Chaia were game for all of this and there was no shrieking from the back seat, just from the front passenger one. It is a little nerve-racking to be taking sharp curves on the left and then see another vehicle coming toward you (and the right side of the car) closer than you're expecting. 
We pulled up at the hotel finally. (Parking lots in the VI are confusing. You turn off the left side of the road and arrows direct you to the right. Then when you get up to the building you can let passengers out the right side of the car, since that's the way the vehicles are oriented.) We unloaded the luggage, exchanged cell phone numbers, and made plans for dinner the next night. Once we got in the lobby, however, there was a moment of confusion; turns out we were at the Marriott Frenchman's Cove instead of the Marriott Frenchman's Reef and Morning Star. Packed up everything again and drove next door.
Charles and Chaia's Frenchman's Reef room had been evidently given away, so they were moved to the Morning Star just down the beach a little. Our room was held for us, but the staffer reported that they were having some trouble with it and sent us down to one of the hotel's restaurants for a complimentary dinner while we waited a little while. David tried out the conch fritters (don't know if that was a good idea, to start with a hotel restaurant's version, but they were pretty good). They look and taste like hush puppies, but are made from chopped conch meat and flour instead of corn meal, and served with tartar sauce.
Internet photo:
Then finally we got to our room and crashed.
Our pictures will be included with the next posts. We saw no point in documenting the inside of ATL.
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| I love pickles, and I have been drinking pickle juice out of the jar since I was a kid. That last part used to be a confession, but these days I say it with a little less trepidation. Maybe someday I will be proud of it, who knows?
Today I found someone who has not only come to terms with her pickle juice addiction, but has embraced it. She boldly speaks out to all pickle-juice-drinkers-anon members and shares her childhood pickle juice popsicle recipe.
I love it.
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| Tuesday I was stopped at a light and glanced over at the black Dodge Magnum next to me. It had a large decal on the back window that said, "F*** you--I'm from Houston."
There is so much I don't understand about that that I don't even know what questions to ask.
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