Well, at least part of that title is true. I did indeed travel.
We stayed here, a nice place that employs a staff that speaks the King’s English, complete with accompanying accents. It’s perfectly delightful but strangely incongruent in that deep southern setting. If you’d like to fantasize that you’re vacationing in England on a South Carolina budget, it’s definitely the place to be!
Now that I think of it, though, the bellhop wears a kilt, so maybe it’s Scottish hospitality they’re emulating. That actually makes more sense since there’s much golf played there. In South Carolina and Scotland, I mean. Not sure about England.
There are beaches, too, and if one looks really, really hard, one can find them. But only after one shows the guard that one has high level ocean viewing security clearance, of course. You can not proceed through the gates, there’s water beyond them! Guest card carriers ahoy!
Vast bodies of water may have been elusive but the same didn’t apply to the mystery liquid I stepped in just outside the hotel lobby elevator our first night there. I didn’t see it but H quickly pointed out that I’d walked right through the wetness, a courtesy that I rewarded with intermittent speculation about its source throughout the remainder of our stay. Most people would have readily attributed it to the fact that a member of the hotel staff was replenishing the supply of bottled water that was provided compliments of the inn but I imagined the results of someone’s incontinence or maybe even amniotic fluid which, as you know, is commonly found on the floors of scores of public places across America. Nor did it matter that I was wearing shoes at the time. What if it had splashed onto my feet or ankles! All 1/gamillion trillionth of an inch of it.
In addition to obsessing over unfortunately positioned puddles or piddles or whatever, we toured vacation homes both there and at another beach community that’s located a few hours north. We’ve vacationed at both venues in the past and I happen to prefer the second, mostly because it appeals to my sense of order. The ocean is there, then the beach, and a bunch of homes that run parallel to it. With space in between, affording reassuring views that one didn’t take a wrong turn and end up in freaking Nebraska. It’s nice to see water where one expects it to be!
Unfortunately, during this visit we learned that part of the second island is experiencing beach erosion at an alarming rate, prompting us to reconsider viewing many of the properties we’d targeted there. Our plan is to find a place near the ocean. We’re not particularly interested in living in it.
The trip home was largely uneventful and no bodies of water, expected or unexpected, were encountered. Nor were any public bathrooms. Incredibly, I managed to avoid them the entire trip. My goal was to at least walk into one but I didn’t make it that far this time. I did, however, manage to resist the urge to eliminate the shoes that had forged through the lobby wetlands. I’m considering that progress. Baby steps. Little mystery substance squishy ones.
Our next scouting trip is scheduled in two weeks. Maybe I’ll even be willing to wear the shoes again by then.
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I’m reading:
The Castaways – by Elin Hilderbrand
Incredibly, this book has managed to sustain my interest in the midst of travel angst and a very busy time in general. The story follows the interaction of four couples whose lives are entwined in a number of mostly dysfunctional ways. I’ve set aside more books than I can count this year so I’m finding it encouraging that I’ve read about a quarter of this one and remain interested. Not great literature but it’s words on a page and I want to read them, so I’ll take it.
