As I was traveling south today I thought about all of the places in the South that I had been, the American South, the Deep South.
Large cities like Atlanta, Georgia, Nashville, Tennessee, Richmond, Virginia and Houston, Texas.
Small towns like Petal, Mississippi, Wetumpka, Alabama and Troutville, Virginia.
Once bustling but now abandoned territorial towns in the middle of nowhere-near-anywhere-else, like St. Stephens and Claiborne, Alabama.
Beach towns and river cities, resort destinations and backwoods retreats, the foothills, the mountains, the Delta, I’ve covered a lot of the South during the first 41 years of life.
But then I began to wonder, “Where is the farthest south I’ve ever travelled?”
Sydney Australia. (Now that’s South!)
“In The Americas?”
I’ve been able to travel to quite a number of places in this big old wide world and I count myself lucky in this regard. Of course, I’d like to travel to many more before I finally give up my ghost and retire to my hopefully heavenly home: South Africa, Botswana, Zimbabwe, Egypt, Turkey, Morocco, Costa Rica, Argentina, Japan, Korea, Scotland, Ireland, just to name a few and I have a list of many.
So where am I heading today? Well, it isn’t out of the country and isn’t out of the South, although some may argue otherwise. It is, however, some place that I have never been and the most southerly of the southern cities in the U.S. for me to visit to date. The destination: Palm Beach, Florida and the PGA National Resort and Spa.
I may not have much of an opportunity to leave the resort grounds during my stay, OH WOE IS ME, but I do hope to get a taste of the local cuisine while I’m there, do a bit of people watching to see how the 1% live, enjoy an evening with my husband in a FANCY dress and visit new friends. Heck, I might even get to glimpse the President if he’s Mar-A-Lago bound. Hmmmm.