Well, so far, we've surpassed my expectations. I was pretty sure we would only make it to about West Palm Beach before any arguments ensued, but the first little squabble came this afternoon passing through South Carolina. Pretty good, huh?!
Yesterday we pulled into town, earlier than expected. We stopped in at Fountain of Youth Park, which is pretty much the typical tacky tourist rip-off one would imagine, but at least it was inexpensive. And would any trip to St. Augustine really be complete without a visit to Ponce de Leon's spring?
The girls in front of an old Spanish anchor in the garden:
Our guide preparing to fill our paper cups from the fake silver pitcher at the Fountain:
S and G grimace after drinking sulfury "egg water":
Entering St. Augustine's old city gate:
After dinner, S, G and I strolled through the city. We're all architecture buffs here, so we thoroughly enjoyed the spectacular old buildings, especially Flagler College. Marvelous. I'd been here years ago, looking at real estate naturally, and never really took in what a beautiful city this is.
The girls and I learned that three signers of the Declaration of Independence were held prisoner by the British in St. Augustine.
This morning we got up early and walked across the street to the Castillo de San Marcos, the oldest masonry fortification in the U.S.
Crossing the drawbridge with Nana and Papa:
Girls firing a canon down in the moat:
This view from the Castillo looks toward the old city gate, with a section of the restored wall visible:
A few comments:
First, see that lovely abrasion on G's forehead and nose? It's from smashing into the wall in Nana and Papa's pool. She was swimming with her eyes closed because the chlorine was too strong. I swear I didn't do it.
Second, it seems the senior citizens' equivalent of wearing West Coast Choppers apparel is sporting baseball caps with names of Navy ships on them. My dad has been wearing his USS Arizona hat, with his pin of the "Lone Sailor" attached, and sure enough, just as I suspected, he was questioned as to whether he had served on the Arizona. Oh brother. It's as bad as a bumpersticker.
Tomorrow, Jamestown and Yorktown.