A Quiet Sunday

One of many things that I love about Florida is that you can pack so much into a day. With temperatures that seldom slip below the seventies, and sunshine that is never far away, it is possible to plan and achieve all sorts of things on a weekend. Take a normal Sunday in December for instance; before the sun had gained any real strength, we were out on our bikes peddling the three mile circuit around our neighbouring golf course, dodging the runners, walkers, roller-bladers and bikers. Considering it was a Sunday morning and the road traffic was minimal, it was amazing just how busy the walking path was and in the end, we gave up the effort and peddled along the road itself, there to be overtaken every so often by an extremely svelte “pelaton” of lycra clad cyclists on bikes that made ours look like Penny Farthings. Not being ones for going to excess in our sports outfits, we trundle along quite happily in our old cotton shirts and somewhat dilapidated farming shorts from the old South African days, and we still get the mileage under our belts. After lunch, we joined up with our good friend Mary and headed north towards Fort Lauderdale to find “Bone Appetit”, the doggie shop with a difference. None of us are fortunate enough to own dogs as Mary works all day and we are in a “No Pets Condo”. I have been aware of the odd parrot and turtle hiding out in the building but certainly no canines have made it past the surveillance cameras to my knowledge. I understand that it is possible to buy large soft shoulder bags for the express purpose of smuggling your pooch or puss into such buildings but I would live in fear of being exposed by a muted miaow or a wayward woof. Condo rules are something that need to be espoused and taken seriously. We are not owners of our “unit” and we tread carefully lest we be seen having illegal barbeques on our balcony, stepping into the building from the pool deck in our costumes, conducting any sort of business from home (although I hear the place is riddled with Property Dealers who all work on their computers without trace) or in any other way upsetting the all powerful “committee”. We have quickly learned to steer clear of the blood –letting that can go on at General Meetings and we never get embroiled in the latest tussle and try to play Humpty Dumpty as much as possible. Until we make the journey across the draught-board of American life and reach the nirvana of the all important Green Card, we keep our cards close to our chests and our eyes averted. But why the trip to “Bone Appetit” you may ask. Mary has an acquaintance who has found a novel way to write a novel. Every so often, Elaine Viets will take on what she describes as “a dead-end job”. Either operating as a tele-marketing salesperson, working part-time in a book shop, or in this case helping pet owners to choose the correct clothing and delicacies for their four legged offspring, she gathers together sufficient background knowledge and sets about writing a jolly good murder mystery. The party was in full swing when we arrived and there were more breeds of dogs being paraded by their owners than you could shake a stick at. Shar Pei’s looked dolefully at primped poodles, and beagles nudged at labrador pups urging them to further mischief. The owners were having as much fun as the dogs and in amongst it all was a wonderful lady giving out chocolate covered strawberries while opposite a guitarist entertained everyone with songs like “Mellow Yellow”. Considering we were in the heart of a very busy section of Fort Lauderdale, it was really a bit like being at a village fair in England, and all that was missing were the gumboots and the rain. From here we went to show Mary our favourite park where most weekends when we aren’t camping, we go to cycle and picnic and watch the world go by. The Hugh Taylor Birch Park was established by a man of the same name who was determined that Floridians in that area should be able to see what Florida looked like before the developers got into the act. Buying up coastal acres of land at a ludicrously cheap price during the early part of the last century, he insisted that everything be left just as it was and a simple one-way road encircles the park, allowing people to either walk, cycle or drive (extremely slowly) under the canopy of trees, or merely sit and enjoy the passing show. One section lies alongside the Intracoastal Waterway and here the fabulous millionaire yachts of Fort Lauderdale parade past on a Sunday, each one draped with bikini clad golden bodies and laden with expensive picnic baskets. In another area, it is possible to hide away and imagine that you are deep in the Everglades, and on the eastern side of the park, a tunnel leads under the busy coastal road and gives access to a wonderful stretch of yellow sandy beach and the warm blue sea. But we could not tarry long, and having walked around the massive banyan tree that has now grown to an enormous girth thanks to the strange roots that hang from the upper branches and sink into the earth beneath, we headed north once more for Tradewinds Park. It is here that each year, the trees in the park are dressed in fairy lights to create a twinkling wonderland of colour. An avenue of green and blue oak trees will give way to a row of deep red ones and all around are magic castles, weird and wonderful animals and everything that is connected to Christmas and the holiday season. Entrance funds go to help charity work and a never-ending stream of cars process through the park each night throughout December, culminating hopefully in a large amount of money and some tired but very satisfied volunteers who work extremely hard to bring about this amazing sight. Between parks, we had sat and watched the sunset across one of the many inland lakes while being mildly pestered by a rather shaggy goose who came ashore at the first sign of a sandwich. We raised our glasses to my father and to Jean’s daughter both of whom had upcoming birthdays the following day, and reckoned that we had managed to fit in a fair amount for a quiet Sunday in Florida.