Today’s post brought to you by: My credit card.
Grateful for: Panera Bread for making the most buttery blueberry scones – but not for informing me I just ate 570 calories + butter – and letting me sit here for hours using wifi.
Trying hard to accept: I stood in a gift store in the heart of Trump land and bought a ‘Make America Great Again’ Christmas decoration. In my defence, am a mere trafficker.
While Ben whacked a few balls round a golf course, I spent the day at the main market square.
After 5 hours sleep, 4km walk and 100 lengths of the pool (small print: pool is shorter than my bath) I decided first stop would be a rest at The Villages sales office. (Small print: they have free coffee).
The paved with gold road up to the sales office. Half expected to see Scarlett and Rhett zipping by in golf cart.
It’s the kind of place where doormen anticipate your every move, including offering to take your photo. Mondays must be slow.
There are 46 shops (make NZ prices look cheap) and 4 streets in the market square.
I set a personal best and managed to get lost.
Followed teenage girls guilting their grandmothers into buying them at least one item per store, and tolerant, loving (stupid) husbands following their wives around.
Probably earning their leave pass for golf for next 6 days straight.
After going into every shop and buying nothing except a marked-down paperback in Barnes & Noble, and the aforementioned gift for the only Trump supporter south of the equator, I rested my weary self in Panera Bread.
Snakelike queues saw me talking to a woman in line for ages. Decided I need to get “NZ is as much in Australia as the US is in Canada” t-shirt after she told me how well her granddaughter imitates Bindi Irwin.
Forgive her though ‘cause she stopped by later just to wish me a good trip.
Nice huh? As was the woman next to me on the sunny wraparound verandah who I had a long yarn with. Apparently the Moscow Ballet (Nutcracker of course) is coming to The Villages. Good grief is there nothing this place hasn’t got?
Judging by her reaction when I said I’m going to Baltimore I won’t be stepping out of the Airbnb after dusk.
Hopefully my host there, Yellow Brick Road Dorothy, will let me hang out on her Ikea-cushioned sofa. She’s a classy gal that Dorothy. Exquisite taste.
I’ve got same cushions.