Bicycles by the bay
No updates that I can share yet about the family search. What follows is a very simple travel story with a bit of introspection because that is what I am into these days.
There is so much research that can be done online these days but eventually the only way to really know about a place is to visit it. So in February I visited the city where I was born.
I haven’t traveled alone in a long time, and I did not have to make this trek alone, however I have been in a deep blue mental space since the holidays and felt convinced that, despite the chance of loneliness, this journey needed to be solo.
I knew I would invest hours poring over books in various libraries and archives seeking more information about my birth mother’s family, so that part of the trip would have been fairly tedious for any travel companion. Also, my anxiety grabs me by the throat when I believe I am keeping people waiting or when I feel someone is looking to me for direction and I do not know what I am doing, causing a literal choking sensation. Again, zero fun for a travel mate.
In retrospect I made the right call. Wandering the city alone at my trademark oh-so-slow roll helped to keep my nerves under control and my concentration on point. It also served to build some self-confidence in my navigation skills that I have been sorely lacking in the last few years.
I stayed at a thoroughly millennial hotel, Aloft, near the marina. It’s part of Marriott and bills itself as “boutique” but part of a chain really be boutique? It was chic and modern and cool, with clean lines and polished concrete and abstract prints. It was like renting a room at a hip art gallery.
It’s lovely but I might have felt especially frumpy because this place is so fashion forward and everything about me is so last decade.
Within walking distance of my trendy temporary abode were plenty of bars, cafes, shops and scenery. Like many small cities, Sarasota has done a nice job of making its downtown area feel vibrant and friendly and welcoming to pedestrian exploration for cool young residents and even frumpy old tourists.
Of course no hotel or restaurant can compete with the sea, and my mornings and evenings strolling along the waterfront one block from my hotel were the best part of my stay.
Seasonal affective disorder has taunted me most of my life. This winter in Ohio has been a seemingly endless chapter of inhumane cold and colorless skies. Since it’s also the first winter I have worked from home and been alone all day every day, it’s felt more damp and dreary than it the weather record indicates.
Never underestimate the power of sunshine on the skin and the scent of saltwater in the nose to reinvigorate a soul escaping from a gloomy Midwest winter. And even if it was only a brief respite, my days in Sarasota might have saved my sanity and possibly my otherwise rock-solid marriage — I realized that I cannot live happily without Phil, even if it means enduring however many winters we have left until retirement.
Now, back to the bay.
The walking path winds around the harbor and I have a thing for boats. There’s something incredibly romantic about bobbing vessels with hopeful names like It’s About Time, Double Infinity and Carpe Diem, all of which were anchored along the piers, awaiting their next voyage.
Sarasota has various art projects installed along the marina park, including Unconditional Surrender, which is either nostalgic and kitschy OR tacky and controversial, depending on if you see it as a moment of harmless, spontaneous joy at the end of a horrible war OR if you have developed a strong opinion about random drunks grabbing unsuspecting women and kissing them without consent.
I prefer my pop art slightly less aggressive. Repurposed flea market finds are delightful to my basic taste, so my favorite installation was a couple of bicycles, with every inch spray-painted down to the flat tires, secured to public bike racks and adorned with fake flowers and faded flamingos. These felt quintessentially Florida to me.
Stopping for dinner at Marina Jack was the best meal of my three-day adventure, not because there was anything special about my overpriced chardonnay or the frozen commissary coconut shrimp. It was uplifting because watching the sunset glow over the water while enjoying my evening meal never gets old to me.
After three days of exploration, I got what I needed. I found a few answers, felt my internal solar battery get a much needed recharge, and discovered a place in the Sunshine State that felt a little less like a tourist trap and more like a pleasant relief.
Next time I go there, and I will visit again, I am bringing company.
