Lows vs Highs

Whew! What a whirlwind week I had!

I visited two state parks; perused a farmer’s market; visited some of my favorite people and enjoyed a couple of great meals with them; and hiked several miles.

Sounds exciting, doesn’t it?

It wasn’t.

The two state parks I visited were quiet open spaces, with fields and trees and bodies of water, and hardly any people.

The Farmer’s Market turned out to be poorly named – there was just one farmer, a bunch of jewelry sellers, and a mixed bag of crafters.

Saying that I “hiked” is a stretch – I really just walked around the campground mostly, with a few fields and easy trails mixed it for variety.

Boring, right?

Wrong.

I used to be enamored with Disney World, with it’s never-a-dull-moment mentality. It’s a constant parade of highlights – roller coasters, shows, characters – a perpetual stream of Instagram moments. And I loved it. I’d finish with one attraction, and make a beeline for the next. Hour after hour, thrill after thrill. Like the adrenaline junkies who can never find enough cliffs to dive off of, I couldn’t get my fill of attractions.

Something changed for me though, and I’m not quite sure when. The luster of Disney has worn off. The last couple of times I went there, I saw more flaws than before – chipped paint, scuffed floors, gum stuck to a water fountain. I ate tasteless food that I paid too much for. The shows seemed tired, as did the dancers.

Were these flaws always there? Was I too busy seeking thrills to see them?

Or has Disney lowered its standards in the pursuit of profits?

There are always people who say they won’t go to Disney because they don’t like amusement parks. I used to tell those people that Disney isn’t your traditional amusement park. In fact, it’s a theme park. The difference is in the details. At Disney, the goal is to immerse the guest in a fantasy world, far removed from reality. They go to great lengths to create their stage. If you’re in the African village, for example, every detail is supposed to make you think of Africa: the packed-straw walking paths, the wood poles, the bright costumes, the shabby-chic flaking paint on the buildings, the artistic cracks in the walls – all planned to the tiniest detail, to mentally transport you to another time and place.

And I bought it, in years past, reveling in the exotic feeling of those “far away” places. But then a few years ago, I decided to visit one of the newest “lands” – Pandora, this time, based on the Avatar movie. I loved the movie, and was excited to see Disney bring it to life. But as I stood in line for over an hour for the “B” ride (the line for the “A” ride was almost 3 hours long), I was disappointed to see that everything looked plasticine. The brightly colored flowers looked like they were made from leftover Halloween costumes – not the good costumes that you pay a small fortune for, the cheap polyester ones that you pay a slightly smaller fortune for. The paint on the “wooden” poles in the queue were worn off in several places, showing the bare metal, even though this particular attraction had only been open for a couple months. The lighting was attractive in places, but the lights themselves were visible, with little attempt to make them blend into the surroundings. The “rocks” looked like they were foam props from a middle-school play.

That day, for the first time in over 20 visits to Disney World, I wasn’t sure it was worth the price of admission.

That same year, I visited Acadia National Park in Maine for the first time. What a contrast with Disney! Almost the anti-Disney, in fact. Wide open spaces, huge trees, deer that silently stroll across your path, long trails groomed only by the feet of countless hikers before you. And quiet. Vast, endless quiet, broken only by bird calls and squirrels rustling the leaves. No one shoving past you to get to the next attraction. No one pushing in front of you so that their kid can get a better view of the parade. No one jostling your arm, causing you to spill your drink down your shirt.

While Disney carefully crafts their “authentic” feel, Acadia is the real deal. No artificial flavors or colors, to coin a phrase.

And the price of admission at Acadia? Unlimited admission for a week cost $30, for the entire family. Try showing up at Disney’s front gate with $30 in hand, and see how far that gets you! Spoiler alert: it’ll get you into the parking lot, but nowhere else.

It felt like I traded in the constant stream of highs at Disney for the steady trickle of lows at Acadia. And I don’t mean that in a bad way. When you’ve walked a mile on a quiet trail without seeing another human being, you come to appreciate the sound and feel of your feet striking the hard-packed earth. When you stop to watch and deer and her two fawns grazing just off the trail, you have time to notice the fading spots on the little ones and the nick on the Mom’s ear, and to wonder what scrap she might have been in to acquire that souvenir. When you paddle across a mirror-still pond and see a loon pop up right next to your boat, you can float serenely watching it glide along the surface, looking for a tasty morsel, and then dive under the water when it sees one. It’s an entirely underwhelming experience, as compared to Disney’s over-satiated days.

And I loved it. Loved the fresh air and the exercise and the solitude and the quiet. I’ve been back to Acadia several times since, and felt the same each time. While I always leave a Disney vacation exhausted, I leave Acadia feeling rejuvenated.

So, was it me who changed, or was it Disney? I’m not sure – maybe some of both.

The point I’ve been taking my sweet time getting to is: I’m loving my “low lights” on this trip.

At Wilson’s Landing, a free Florida state park, I parked in a nearly-empty parking lot, wandered among the palm trees and the Spanish moss, and walked along the river front. I enjoyed Cricket’s excitement at sniffing so many new things. She found an abandoned dog ball, and had a blast chasing it around the park.

Sunset at Wilson's Landing

Cricket investigating the park

At Katie’s landing, a Florida state park that charged me $3 for admission (honor system; you just drop your $3 in a locked box), I had a chance to study the air plants the grow on so many of the trees here, many of which have red shoots that will blossom soon. I also found a long bamboo stick on the ground with a few leaves left on the top of it, and spent 15 minutes teasing Cricket with it, who chased it mercilessly as I swung it around on the ground.

At the farmer’s market, I bought a Peperomia plant, the tastiest garlic cashews, a dog toy, and a fresh orange bell pepper. I checked out (but didn’t buy) the tie-dye dog shirts, the many varieties of hot sauce, the scrumptious looking pastries (the credit for this “pass” goes to my impatience rather than my will-power – there were too many people in line for my tastes), the Indian (as in “from India”, not “Native American”) jewelry, the clay jewelry, the feather jewelry, the hemp jewelry, the braided jewelry, the copper jewelry and the beaded jewelry. There’s sometimes as much joy in looking as in buying.

Farmer's Market Finds

I played games with my mother and step-father, and went to a dog-friendly outdoor restaurant with them. Cricket loved her bowl of chicken. My pulled pork sandwich was good too.

I explored video-call technologies with my dad and step-mom. We stumbled through a couple of video calls with each other, while all sitting in the same room. It was the blind leading the blind, but we had a good laugh. They fed me, and let me spend as much time as I wanted loving on their three dogs. Cricket had a blast sniffing their entire house, and antagonizing their alpha, Paco. Plus there were squirrels to chase, so, a good time, obviously.

Paco, the Fierce Beast

I don’t know how much time I’ve spent “hiking” (a.k.a. “walking”), but lots. Cricket gets a long walk through the campground at lunch time, and then another long walk in one of the state parks at dinner time. Plus the quick walk around the block before breakfast and again before bed. There are warning signs at some of these parks about bears, but no sightings so far. I haven’t lost hope yet, though.

I’ve spent time watching the sand hill cranes, which are protected down here, and boy, do they know it! One walked out in front of my car the other day, and calmly stood right smack in the middle of my lane, picking at something on the road. I slowly drove around it, and it couldn’t possibly have cared less.

Sand Hill Cranes

I met a local bird named Charlie – some sort of heron, I think – with a bad foot. Apparently, he hangs out around the campground, accepting scraps from the fishermen. He’s easy to spot because of that gimpy foot. He’s a big bird – probably 4 feet tall. So far, Cricket has watched him with interest, but not tried to chase him. Good thing. He’d probably have her for snack.

Cricket has chased countless blackish squirrels into the trees. They usually turn back around once they are out of her reach and stare down at her tauntingly. The little buggers. They know perfectly well that she can’t climb trees. Not yet anyways. But she’s trying.

So those are the highlights – er, lowlights, I mean - of my visit here in Central Florida so far. Bigger things are on the horizon – kayaking, for one thing – but not many of them. I’m enjoying the little things too much to crowd them out with big things!

Peace, my friends.

Kimba.