Let me just preface this all by saying that we're back in Georgetown, SC, which is a lovely town mostly because the dinghy dock is like ten foot from our boat (which is far better than the half mile we had to row in Fernandina Beach).
Anyway, so in our last town (Beaufort, SC), Kyle and I made a two mile trek to Dairy Queen. Let me express now that ice cream is one of my favorite foods EVER. I grew up with a family in the ice cream business; it was a staple of any family get-together. But I have not had ice cream in a very long time, because there is simply no way to sustain it on the boat and I refuse to pay $4 for a tiny little cone in the touristy sections of most towns. Not that DQ is so gourmet, but it was still ice cream. Anyway, so after debating whether to get a small or medium blizzard, I opted for the small. I could not eat it. It was literally too cold for me. Halfway through, I had to get up, go outside into the blazing heat, and warm myself up before I could go back to the A/C and eat more. This was no ice cream headache. My body has just adjusted to warmer temps - since we never have ANYTHING cold, ever. I mean, we don't even get cold drinks to cool us during the middle of the day when we're out in the sun driving the boat: no fridge, ice doesn't last very long. Even the ice water I got was almost too cold to drink. It was a weird sensation.
And now that I'm in Georgetown, the lovely Rachel has made known to me that a package is waiting for me at the post office. It seems so simple, doesn't it? Well it's not. It's a fiasco. First, it was sent to the wrong town (we talked about so many towns and dates; apparently it wasn't clear at the end of the conversation where we would be, and when). So we were in Beaufort and had a package waiting for us in Georgetown. It's only three days away, no big deal. But when we got to Georgetown, we went to the address of the PO and found a children's development center. I walked up and down the street, wondering where I'd gone wrong. Nope, Google definitely has that listed as the post office address. So I stopped in a shop and chatted with the proprietor. Apparently that PO shut down and there's a new one: "Do you know where Walmart is?" Is it within walking distance? The response I got was a very assured 'no.' So today when I got some internets, I looked up the address of the new one on the USPS website. It does seem to be near a Walmart, but it did look like a pretty long walk in nearly hundred degree heat. However, it would have been about $20 round trip in taxi rides (they have a $10 minimum). But the Coffee Break Cafe owner - who, incidentally, remembered my name even though it's been a good six weeks since we've been here - says it's only about two miles. That's very walkable. I probably should have figured that out when I asked an old and slightly decrepit woman whether or not I could walk to the post office. So I just heard from Rachel, who called the PO, that my package is in fact there (even though it was sent to the wrong address). I am so excited. You see what she sent us last time? Oh man...
here), an amazing collection of chips, beans, salsa, canned venison, green peppers, and cheese. It's quite a treat.
Alright, so that's it for now. We might not post too often coming up because we don't plan on stopping very much anymore, unless we meet up with our south-bound friends on Wild Haggis.