It hits you right away. It's a multi-pronged not-so-furtive attack on the senses. It's the moment you cross the state line, I'm not sure what hits me first, although I still hope it isn't the drivers who, on the worst of days, extend the Daytona 500 to Florida's interstates. After driving on the autobahn in Germany, I can appreciate driving skill. That is until you realize some people are driving with less skill, but compensate by having several death wishes at any given minute. I'm not interested in racing, not with the whole family plus the dog in the car. Here, we can adjust to a slower speed while taking in Florida a bit.
The air not only hits but bludgeons you in a way that will make you run for the car with its beautiful AC, or grin and bear it. That is, until you can get to, well, a room with a beautiful AC. You will stand in the heat, enjoy the tropical air at no charge, except for the tax you have to pay, the perspiration that will drench you if you're not wearing the right clothes. I find it enchanting, even the mugginess, because that, too, is Florida. When we were living in South America, our regional hub in the southeast was always, without exception, Miami. Florida has no surprises in the air left for us, which I appreciate. And the drivers are surprisingly well behaved as we cruise down the rest of the 95, followed by a short stint on the 4 West. "Take me to the River" by the Talking Heads provides a tasteful background tune. Drop me in the water. We're about to get it, loads of it, as we are belted by the day's first storm the moment we reach Orlando.
I adore the Florida skies, I must admit. The clouds can unite and form a bulldog, a bus, or a balloon, or do some extra engineering and build a raging nuclear cloud about to demolish us all. There is a wildness about the skies that I have always admired, even if that also came at the cost of plane turbulence heading for South America. There's still a nice rhythm to it: I see the lightning every day, as reliable as the cardinals in our Carolina backyard, and I mean every day. I hear the thunder every hour. But I'm pretty sure I'm enjoying Florida every minute so far.
Liebi and I have experience with the combination of heat and not necessarily having the AC power to fight it. As former Peace Corps Volunteers, we feel we are well equipped to living, if we must, without consistent power or running water. At the same time, nobody here really wants to find out about reliving the good ole days in 120-degree heat with a single rickety fan to keep you company. And that goes double for the kids. The dog, of course, loves to be seen, no matter what the weather is. She will mug for the cameras with the best of them with her killer smile. The dog, being the princess she is, does not like rain and will make like a stone (English for "refuse to walk)" to fortify her demands. But there is only so much bargaining I can do with my dog.
The most striking pairing is the air with the vegetation to go with it. The Spanish Moss droops off the trees, usually live oaks. The magnolias are in your face, here I am! Smell me! Put me on Twitter! And I always welcome palm trees. That's part of the charm here. They, and the clouds, are an essential part of the welcoming committee. It's much appreciated, Florida.
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