Travels with Sasha Day 15

February 3 

The early morning is spent catching up on the blog after having a rubber-waffle for breakfast. Next trip I will bring a real knife, fork, and spoon. The cheap plastic utensils provided are horrible, plus a lot of waste. All the hotels talk about being “green,” but a lot is thrown out with the use of plastic utensils, foam plates and cups, etc. I don’t know how much, or if, they recycle… everything goes in one trash bucket. I already bring my own coffee cup and the next trip will also include a brewer and my own coffee. The coffee in the hotels isn’t very strong or flavorful; well, there’s flavor if you like the taste of warm, dirty dishwater.

The front desk calls the trolley shuttle for me. Yoshi talks me into doing Old Town Trolley Tours instead of the Red Train Trolley. I don sweater and jacket from the car as the temperature is quite cool. Juan is the shuttle and what a nice guy! We stop at another hotel and pick up a couple from New York and we chat about the weather back home. (Everyone is talking about the storms in New England!) 

Old Town Trolley’s home base is at the Old Jail. A woman with Switzerland across the back of her jacket cuts in front of me as I’m standing in line. I’m so shocked, I’m speechless. She is totally oblivious, so intent on… whatever was her concern. Most people are so courteous around here that I can’t believe she is so inconsiderate. I feel invisible.  

I finally get up to the counter. They offer deals with multiple sites to visit. I purchase a three-day pass, but I’m not interested in the jail. My ticket includes a museum, trolley, and Alligator Farm. (I want fabulous bird pictures.)

I wander through the museum. It’s interesting, but what really catches my attention is at the end. One wall has a series of miniature train sets with working lights to depict the Eastern Florida Rail System. How cool is this! There are a couple of engines running around the tracks. It’s set up as how it was years ago and I try to recognize landmarks. 

I leave the museum without looking at the store items. I’m not interested in souvenirs or candy. The trolley is being boarded and head on over getting on the third of a four-car set. Many people are already on board and a couple in the last row move over on the seat. 

Uh, oh, this isn’t easy. The steps are a little high and the entrance to the seat is narrow between the rows. I struggle and the man reaches over to give me a hand. I give him my walking stick so I can have better leverage to heft myself up. It’s a squeeze to get into the seat, but soon we are off.  

It’s cold. People are pulling coats tighter. I love the history and the stories. Yes, it’s cool, but this is a great way to get around the old city. The plan is to ride the trolley throughout one trip, then choose where to get off, however, at Stop No. 6, I get off… or try to. It’s not easy manipulating walking stick and taking care not to bang the camera on the car. 

I put my right foot down and that put the widest part of my body in the narrowest part between the seats. I got stuck. Talk about embarrassing! I couldn’t get down and needed the help of another man to to pull myself back up. He just guides and is there if I should fall. A woman says to put my left foot down first and that worked. I thank them and quickly move off. 

I want to get a new pair of Birkenstock sandals. The man in the store is very helpful. Unfortunately, I couldn’t find anything I really liked and if I’m going to pay $100 for a pair of shoes, I’m darn well going to like them! 

Next we look at Vionic sandals. Andrea had recommended these. However, what he has in stock has too many straps (I want slip-ons) or there’s the thing that goes between the big and second toes (which do not fit my feet). I leave the store disappointed and head across the alley to the Silver Feather where I choose a pair of earrings to replace the pair where I’d lost one. (However, they were not the right shade of green.) 

The streets are wandered, photos taken. Andrea had asked me to look up a friend who works at the Old School House, but he isn’t there. I do come across a man in a side alley playing a didgeridoo with a dog beside him dressed in costume. I approach after a few minutes and after others have moved away. I don’t want to take photos without asking. 

That is a great conversation. Come to find out, he once lived in Gonic. I take photos and got a story and he will be in my next book. I continue along St. George Street trying to decide where to have lunch. There are so many places to choose from and I can’t decide. I’m really starting to ache and enter an enclosed section of little shops, like a mini-mall. There’s a restaurant at the end, but the blaring TV is a turn-off and I head out the door. 

Uh, oh, where am I? I’m near Flagler College and I cross the road to get photos of the dining room. I find out later on another trolley tour that there are special panes protecting the Tiffany windows from the outside elements. That’s why I can’t get good photos! I can see the bump-out of what used to be the pool in the Alcatraz Hotel. The Alcatraz is now The Lightner Museum and the pool area is a café, so that’s where I head. By this time, the walking is extremely difficult. 

I order a chicken sandwich with Cajun coleslaw and zinger iced tea. The slaw is too spicy for me and the waiter brings balsamic rice instead. It’s a good meal and after eating, I painfully make my way to the trolley stop out front. This time I choose the front seat of the fourth car. By now, it’s quite cool and I pull my jacket tighter.

When we get back to Stop No. 1, I again need assistance getting off. The narrow space and manipulating camera and walking stick while backing down two steps… most of the time I don’t mind being short, but when the rise in steps (and bathtub walls) are high, it’s difficult. 

Juan, the shuttle driver, is nearby. “Are you ready to go back to the hotel?” Oh, yes! He remembers I’d mentioned earlier that I like history and regales me with stories all the way back. Gosh, I wish he could take me all around. He loves St. Augustine and says, that in spite of the tourism, it’s quiet here.