At the risk of sounding like Captain Obvious, lotsa people come to Florida this time of year cuz it’s fucking gorgeous here then. Check out the pic gallery below or the live Jensen Beach cam here!
If you’re a retiree, few can beat this place for value and relaxation — but only if you can swing the snowbird thing; the summer’s an oven, and culture is nonexistent, and you can forget about elite world class DJ Martin Garrix showing up at the Lyric Theater anytime soon; for that shit, you need to go down to the Ultra Music Festival in Miami. Here, the vibe’s more Cornwall than Amsterdam Noord.
Yet there’s no red tide to worry about, during this time of year, though there currently is an issue with mosquitoes carrying the Nile Virus in South Florida, so you stay off the beach at dawn or dusk. But otherwise, the water is clear, clean, and plenty warm to swim in. You often can see shoals of little fishes swimming around as you swim, and yes, there are shark here, and sometimes the little darlings come by the shore — but no worries, we actually have trained lifeguards on duty.
My wife and I went to Jensen Beach Park at noon today and stopped at Alberto’s (he’s a Sicilian from Palermo who’s been on Hutchinson Island for 26 years!) where you can have a delicious chicken or meatball or eggplant parm sub, bursting at the seams, and super delicious, and it’ll only set you back 8 dollars (it’s definitely big enough for 2, unless you have my kind of appetite).
That’s around 7 euros, which will not get you much by way of food in Tavira or Nice, where we traveled last year.
The roads here, if you know them well, and are alert for out-of-state drivers who don’t know where they are going, are nice and straight: no winding mountain roads with hairpin curves and dangerous 200 foot cliff drops…. the land is flat as a pancake, so if you are a retiree, or over 50, it’s real easy on your knees for you to go for a nice loooong beach walk… the beaches here extend for miles, and aren’t these tiny little coves that you have to rappel down a cliff to get to or take these endless, dangerous steps hewn in rock that drop down at an 80° angle… then after your nice walk on actual sand and not pain-in-the-ass stones (which the Frenchies call galets) that you find in Nice, you can sit on your own beach chair that you drove over in your own car which actually has automatic transmission (btw nobody here will hassle you about rental umbrellas or chaises longues — though they are available, if you want — as you find on the beaches in Europe: the beaches around here all belong to the public, not to private entities, which is not the case in much of the Riviera) and down a nice cold one from your cooler (drinking BYOB on the beach is legal and many also partake discreetly of more herbaceous pleasures) and you can just feel that sun drain the arthritis out of your aching bones as you relax in temps in the high 70s with low humidity and no bugs and there are even free, clean toilets and fresh water open air cold showers readily available by the vast parking lot at the beach entrances.
In the area my wife and I live in, the St. Lucie River and Indian River meet in a lagoon where dolphin in the 80s used to be a regular sight.
It truly was a Paradise here, once, which is more or less precisely why I moved here in 2001, when I got tired of the dirt bags in NY, and the Treasure Coast was not as built up as it is today (though Martin County is still very much a low growth county compared to Palm Beach), and the price of housing and cost of living was like dirt cheap (if you owned your house with no mortgage, you lived like a king on 30 grand a year: try that in Paris or London), and stayed as long as I did, before the pollution in summer got bad, and the state’s extreme drift to the right became obnoxious, and too much Oxy crap rolled downhill from the Northern states into Florida during the aughts.
You can still live the good life here cheap; at least cheaper than most places you’d want to live in up North, and if you are an American, you don’t have to worry about visas and dealing with foreign languages and taking looooooong, expensive flights to Europe (while Brits get to enjoy the £59 return to the Algarve or Sardinia on short notice) to find yourself lazing on a beach where you can relax and not have your shit stolen by Romanians lurking in the underbrush. You’re in America, baby. This is your land!