I knew we had missed our bus stop when the Catholic church offering bingo on Thursdays four blocks north of our hostel appeared on the left. "Maybe we should ask the driver," my Swiss travel companion for the day suggested as I pulled the cord. "We just passed it," I replied. We ducked into the January rain and ran the six blocks home.
Lucy, a 60-year-old Quebecois woman I had met the day before, rounded up another Quebecois woman, Julie, Raphaela from Switzerland and myself for a midday stroll. In the rain.
Decked out like a walking advertisement for MEC's foul weather line, I trudged into the Fort Lauderdale rain with my new companions.
Las Olas Blvd. was our destination. Lucy and Julie never made it, turning back approximately one sixth of the 4.7 mile journey. What motivated Raphaela and I is still a great mystery. Two women travelling on their own was our only obvious common thread. Lack of anything else to do on an uncharistically cold and rainy Saturday in south Florida might have been another.
We valiantly faked a good day in the rain and lunched in a warm, cozy bakery, ducked into cute shops to look for a belt that was not packed and visited the cinema and watched "It's Complicated." In its simplest and soggiest form, we rejoiced in the thrill of travelling by enjoying a foreigner's company and exploring a new city.
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