Cocoa, Florida– 1 mile in dinghy, 8 kilometres walked
I’d forgotten the noise of North America. The planes and helicopters flying overhead. Wailing sirens of the ambulances, fire trucks, and police cars. Crowds of people talking and shuffling around. The endless streams of traffic and vehicle sounds of roaring engines, amplified music, honking horns. I didn’t realize until today that an umbrella of quiet rests over the Bahamas and that we had become accustomed to it.
Besides the racket, it was fun being back in the US. We had dinghy'd east over to the busy commercial area of Merritt Island which had dozens if not hundreds of stores. Ana's incredible retail radar pinged off the nearest TJ Maxx and she floated into the store on a cushion of joy and took her time browsing through the retail treasures therein. I even looked around for a few minutes and found a nice pot of blueberry jam for a mere $4.99. While Ana luxuriated amongst the leather belts, designer purses, plastic housewares, kitchen knick-knacks, and corn rows of discounted clothing, I went to the Publix supermarket around the corner to see what I could find and returned a while later with two bags, loaded with their best two-for-one deals for a mere twenty bucks.
It’s funny how the brain adjusts rapidly to one’s surroundings. During the trip to Florida, groceries became progressively more expensive to the point of it becoming painful to enter a grocery store in Florida. After spending three months sifting through pricey merchandise in Bahamian grocery stores, provisioning in Florida took on an aura of great value particularly when we found an Aldi grocery store and their scandalously low prices.
After walking across many hot pavements and asphalt surfaces made gooey by the 29-degree heat, carrying our load of goodies, we treated ourselves to lunch at Olive Garden to celebrate our return to the continent. We were aghast to find no hamburgers, conch fritters, or grouper fingers on the menu, so had to settle for unlimited garden salad and hot breadsticks, fettuccine alfredo, and spaghetti and meatballs. We resembled a couple of fat meatballs as we wobbled out of there, having added a take-out tray of fettuccine (midnight snack for later) to our stack of groceries for an additional three bucks.
Back at the boat, we quickly packed away the provisions, then dinghy’d over to the other side of the river to explore the smaller town of Cocoa Village, intrigued by the name and inspired by the other boaters we’d met who loved it.
Well, Cocoa Village is a beautiful little town, an artful diamond in the commercial rough, an artists’ retreat, with colourful and joyful spaces, diversity, shaded pathways, a classic theatre, many small cafes and bars, a French bakery, a busy children’s park, a beach volleyball court, a splash pad, and a gorgeous rotunda performance space, ringed by a brick-tiled covered walkway. Sadly, most of the businesses were closed on a Monday, but during our ride back to the boat we discussed staying another half day to more fully experience this lovely town.
Since our digestive systems were still diligently processing the pasta noodles consumed for lunch, there was no need to make dinner so we had a long sundowner in the cockpit, made a couple of phone calls, and enjoyed the light show from the tiny storm cell passing overhead, throwing lightning bolts and a bit of rain.
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