Month: March 2026

3/27/26

This was quite a travel day! I had hoped it would all go well, and eventually it did, though not without a few hiccups, of course.

During my time in Florida so far, I had become aware that it is very difficult to get to St. Augustine without a car. For years, people had been telling me I had to visit St. Augustine, the oldest continuously inhabited European-established settlement in the United States, founded in 1565. But no train lines go there, and very few buses, from very few places. (Apparently, Greyhound recently stopped its service there from Jacksonville.) Bicycling there from a variety of origins is possible, of course, but only on major roads, no car-free or particularly safe paths.

Thus, it had been on my list to visit for the past four years, and I definitely intended to visit there this winter, but I wasn’t sure how I would get there. (Finding lodging was another obstacle—with only one Servas host and a small handful of Warmshowers hosts, this was another challenge to face.)

But I discovered via a Google Maps search that there seemed to be a very convoluted and time-consuming—but very economical—transit option all the way from Gainesville to St. Augustine, fully operated by the Jacksonville Transit Authority. I was skeptical, but impressed and optimistic. I would take four buses ($1 each for the first three, $3 for the last) and bicycle about eight miles to bridge the gap between two of them—rather than waiting in a small town for more than an hour for a fifth bus—and then cycle about 12 more miles upon arrival, to reach my Warmshowers hosts in Vilano Beach, on the far side of St. Augustine.

So, on a Wednesday morning, I packed up from my Gainesville host’s place—having been awakened at dawn in this new neighborhood by yet another neighbor’s rooster—and rode along the bike path to the downtown transit center, looking for the bus that would take me to the Keystone Heights Senior Center, west of Gainesville—Stop One on my itinerary.

Upon arriving at the transit center, I faced a moment of panic, not seeing any bus with 3-digit numbers, and realizing that the once-a-day bus was due to depart in about ten minutes. I asked a couple of staffers in the booth at the transit center, both of whom seemed unaware of the existence of this bus.

Good lord.

But one suggested that if such a bus existed, it would probably be “over there.” He pointed just over to the side of the transit center, and sure enough, there my eyes fell upon a very small bus. I scurried over and began dismantling my rig, trying to get the driver’s attention through the closed door to confirm that this was indeed my ride.

As per usual, he expressed skepticism that I could get the rig on the bus. I had noticed, however, that there was an ADA-compliant lift installed on the side of the bus. Long story short, we all made it on board.

Once I got on, his gruffness seemed to melt, and he and I and the two other passengers chatted the whole way to the senior center, which was nearly an hour.

At the senior center, a similar-looking bus was already waiting for the transfer. My driver spoke to the new driver, explaining my situation and asking him to help me with that bus’s lift, which he did.

That next driver was much quieter, but the hour and 15 minutes of that $1 ride—to the Middleburg VA clinic—passed pleasantly enough.

When I disembarked, the driver gave me some pointers as to how to bike the eight miles to my next bus stop, although I found that Google Maps gave me safer and more pleasant cycling directions, since the driver just suggested the two major thoroughfares that would get an auto driver there most efficiently. I was once again surprised to find myself on yet another pleasant, car free bike path alongside a quiet road for several miles. Florida has continually impressed me with the frequency of these little bikeways in unexpected spots.

By this time, the mercury was climbing to 90F/32C, so I was ready for a rest in an air conditioned Taco Bell by the time I reached Orange Park, an outer suburb of Jacksonville.

Thus fortified, I boarded a full-sized city bus—thankfully not at all crowded with passengers, so I could stash the rig in the front seating area with me—and rode the next hour to the Jacksonville Transit Center.

That place seemed pretty well designed, and full of security officers; I gathered there had been quite a bit of unsavory activity in the not-too-distant past, so the transit agency was making an effort to keep everyone safe.

Once again, however, I had a hard time locating the bus stop where I could catch my final short bus of the day, for the 90-minute ride to St. Augustine. By this time it was nearly 4:30. I asked several staffers, but had a hard time finding the stop. On my way, though, since I had a bit of extra time, I strolled over to the very august-looking convention center across the street.

When I finally located the bus stop, on the sunny and hot south edge of the transit center, I found quite a bit of activity in that area. First I got heckled by a couple of seemingly vagrant men who formed a sort of comedy duo. One pointed at my trailer and asked, “You got a dog in there?” The other laughed and replied, “A dead dog!”

Charming.

(Oddly enough, in all my years of traveling with this rig, this was the second time someone had asked if there was an animal inside. The first time had been just a couple of hours earlier, during my bike ride between buses. A young girl and her mother were crossing a crosswalk at the same time I was. The girl—much more innocently—had pointed at the trailer and asked if there was an animal inside.)

Then an ambulance pulled up, directly in the right-of-way where my bus was due to arrive soon. I’m not sure what the problem was, but I watched someone be moved from a car onto a stretcher into the ambulance, and then lots of talking amongst the rescuers and affected people.

I waited in the nearby hot shade for my bus, hoping all would go smoothly.

The bus pulled up, and sure enough, couldn’t park where it needed to. The driver pulled over into a nearby gravel parking lot. I lugged my bulky rig over as quickly as I could… only to have her deny me entry onto the bus. (“We just got an email the other day. No bikes on the buses. Not even any kind of large luggage that could shift around.”)

Interesting. My Greyhound driver from Spring Hill to Tallahassee, several weeks ago, had said something very similar. Strange coincidence that two unrelated transit-agency heads were apparently sending out such emails. That driver, however, had grudgingly relented, and by the time I disembarked, he seemed impressed with how “cool” my rig was, and unconcerned about my taking it on Greyhounds going forward.

Now, here in Jacksonville near the end of a long day, I did my best, as always, to stay calm and explain to the driver that everything could work out just fine; I had just taken the rig on two very similar buses earlier in the day.

She remained unmoved.

Hmmm.

Yikes.

What now?

I needed that bus. To bike that distance would take an entire day, which I didn’t have. I already had a Warmshowers host lined up in St. Augustine, but only for one night. I had already paid for a hotel there for the following two nights, given the lack of response or availability from the other lodging folks there. I did not want to add the cost of a Jacksonville hotel to this, not to mention the hassle of finding such a hotel, navigating to it, and then having a long and probably unpleasant bike ride the following day.

But the driver was firm; I could not board.

Temporarily stymied, I did take the opportunity, while she waited to depart, to walk around the bus to scope it out. (There would be another bus in about 40 minutes, then one more much later, then no more for the day. What kind of vehicle was I dealing with here?) Sure enough, there was no lift gate on this bus.

Hmmmm.

Feeling deflated, I lugged the disassembled rig over to a shady curb to rest and pivot.

First, I reached out to a Jacksonville contact my earlier New Smyrna Beach host had just that day introduced me to on Facebook. I explained the situation, and asked if there might be any chance I could stay with her that night.

While I waited for her response, I texted my Vilano Beach hosts to update them that I wasn’t sure if I would be able to arrive to them, but that I was working on it.

I also reminded myself that every driver is a new person. If one says no, the next might say yes—even under identical infrastructural and policy conditions.

Meanwhile, shortly after I sat down on the curb, a very unpleasant man came to sit beside me. I believe he was intoxicated in some way. Normally, I make a point to be friendly to fellow travelers around me, but my instincts told me right away not to look at this man or engage with him.

The good news was, in the half hour or so we sat next to each other, he never directly addressed me or tried to engage.

The bad news was, he kept up a running commentary about everything and everyone that was upsetting him at the moment, and this list was long. He seemed to be speaking to me, since generally no one else was within earshot, but each time I failed to respond he seemed unconcerned.

“This transit center ain’t shit! They say it’s all that, but it ain’t shit!”

Another man walked up to the nearby bike rack and began to unlock his bike.

My compatriot started in on him: “People care so much about their fucking bikes! I don’t give a fuck! You think someone cares about your bike enough to steal it? I’ll rob that bike from you right now!”

At this, the cyclist looked over, and with a puzzled and annoyed countenance, said, “What?”

My companion had no meaningful response, just more muttering as the cyclist biked away.

Of course I hoped he wasn’t really going to take anyone’s bike—mine was folded neatly in front of me, with the trailer (turned into a push cart for transport) resting on it.

There really wasn’t any other good place for me to go to get away from him, and part of me feared that even if I tried, he might then begin harassing me or even following me. So I stayed put.

As various people walked by, he called out insulting things to them (including racial slurs to a Black man, although he was also Black himself, as far as I could discern from my quick glance when he had arrived.)

I think that passerby said something to a couple of security officers, because a pair of them—one white man and one Black man—began walking our way. They seemed to be using a deescalation framework—speaking calmly—which I appreciated. They told him that they had received some complaints that he was “causing issues.” He then began unleashing another tirade, including several racial epithets about Latino people. The security officers ignored the content of his speech, but informed him that it was not allowed for people to sit on the curb there.

I squirmed a bit to hear this. Where was I supposed to go now?

And sure enough, upon hearing this, the man acknowledged me for the first time since he had been sitting there: “What about her??”

Without looking at any of the three, I silently picked up my rig’s components and began walking across the street, back into the sun, to the gravel lot where my bus would now soon be arriving.

Never a dull moment.

Meanwhile, my new Jacksonville Facebook friend had replied, saying there was a chance she could drive me to St. Augustine that evening if need be. She couldn’t promise, but said she might be able to.

I thanked her profusely for the possibility.

A few minutes later, the next bus did arrive. I did my best to play it cool with the new driver, just asking, “Is this the bus to St. Johns?” She smiled and said yes. No indication of a problem.

I walked around to the passenger door, and she followed me. Despite the lack of an ADA lift, she cheerfully helped me to load the heavy and bulky trailer up the stairs and around the corner. She even helped me to tuck the bike and trailer behind a seat so that they wouldn’t shift in transit.

I paid her the $3, and we were on our way.

Whew! All’s well that ends well.

During the ride, I texted updates to my Jacksonville contact and Vilano Beach hosts.

The bus deposited me a few miles north of town, as the shadows were growing longer. I biked nearly another two hours to my hosts’ beautiful home right off the beach, crossing a bridge on the Jimmy Buffet Memorial Highway on the way, just as the sun was setting.

I pulled up to their house as darkness was settling in. The wife greeted me warmly, and I immediately took her up on her offer of a shower, followed by a home-cooked meal and a luxurious night of sleep. (No roosters!)

The next day, I meandered back across the bridge to enjoy St. Augustine a bit.

I was shocked at the degree of visible tourism, although I’ve tried to avoid showing it in these photos. There were tourist trolleys and plazas full of field-trip kids all over town.

This was to be my only day exploring St. Augustine, because my next and final day was planned for riding part of the Palatka Trail, and visiting the beautiful Ravine Gardens.

And, rain was forecast for the afternoon, so I really only had a few hours. Before I checked into my hotel, I found a pleasant gazebo on the campus of the tiny and unconventional Flagler College. I rested there a while, and watched a small tour group go through. I later learned that the college gives free tours to the public on a regular basis, especially because some of the school’s architecture is so interesting.

When the rain did come, I holed up in the city library, a few blocks away from the hotel where check-in time was not for two more hours. It was an unexpected but cozy way to pass the time before the hotel.

Next up: the Palatka Trail and Ravine Gardens!

—

Do you have your own dream or project, and would like some support or collaborative brainstorming about it? Schedule a free one-hour video or phone call with me!

Want to be notified of future blog posts? Use the green “sign up” button to subscribe!

Want to support my vision financially? I am in a continual process of manifesting a “salary” for the unconventional work I do in the world. You can make a one-time or monthly contribution, or even become a fairy godfunder! (Heartfelt thanks to all my godfunders, patrons, and supporters!)

3/23/26

Hello from St. Petersburg! I’m here taking care of two cute kitties for ten days, but meanwhile I’ve been falling behind here on the blog.

So I’ll make this one short—mostly just photos—and plan to make another post soon.

When I left off last time, I had been enjoying various aspects of Gainesville. After my earlier lovely ride on the St. Marks Rail Trail south of Tallahassee, I was looking forward to biking a similar one in Gainesville. When I did so, it was also lovely, although the day was hotter, the rest stops (and fresh water) were more scarce, and I saw almost no animals, which was quite a change from the St. Marks Trail.

I did have one really cool animal encounter, though, but you’ll have to take my word for it since I didn’t get a photo.

Toward the end of the day, as I was nearing my starting/ending point of the trail as it borders Paynes Prairie State Park, I glanced to my right from the trail, into the woods. As I did so, a brown horse with a black mane suddenly emerged.

No human in sight.

I caught the horse’s eye, and said aloud something like, “Wow. I wasn’t expecting to see you here…”

The horse met my eye briefly, then tossed its mane and turned back into the woods.

The entire experience was very brief, but it felt like a magical moment. I’m pretty sure this the first time I had ever encountered a wild horse. It was a cool way to end my day of cycling. (I later remembered that I had heard that there were wild horses living in Paynes Prairie.)

Finishing the trail as it extended into downtown Gainesville, I made my way back to Karma Cream, where I had met up with Debbie the previous day for a snack before we went to the botanical garden. Karma Cream is a great mostly vegan café in town where they serve a wide selection of vegan ice creams. It was the perfect capper for my exertion on a hot day. I chose one scoop each of coffee and chocolate, and enjoyed it at a table outside.

Next up: St. Augustine!

—

Do you have your own dream or project, and would like some support or collaborative brainstorming about it? Schedule a free one-hour video or phone call with me!

Want to be notified of future blog posts? Use the green “sign up” button to subscribe!

Want to support my vision financially? I travel on a shoestring, in a continual process of manifesting a “salary” for the unconventional work I do in the world. You can make a one-time or monthly contribution, or even become a fairy godfunder! (Heartfelt thanks to all my godfunders, patrons, and supporters!)

3/16/26

Hello from Palm Coast! I have been staying here for two nights with a host who has graciously allowed me to wait out the rain here before continuing south to Daytona Beach tomorrow. I’m so glad for that, because yesterday and today we had major deluges in the afternoons, complete with lightning and thunder.

But I’m here now to tell you about my second foray into Gainesville, about a week ago.

I’m sure some of you remember that Gainesville is where my winter’s Florida travels began, back in early December. I had taken the train from Savannah to Orlando, stayed in a hotel there for one night, and then caught a RedCoach bus to Gainesville for what was to be my first visit. At that time, I stayed for a week and a half at Jungle Friends Primate Sanctuary, helping to prepare food and clean cages for 177 monkeys. That was an amazing experience.

I also visited a handful of the Gainesville area’s many nature parks, but I wanted to come back later to see more. I also wanted to make sure to visit the monkeys again. And, I wanted to spend some time just soaking up the vibes of Florida’s most hippie-ish college town.

Thankfully, I got to do all of these things on my recent visit.

I was able to find three Warmshowers hosts to stay with—Demi for two nights, Michael and Rosa for two nights, and Allyson for one night. I also managed to meet up with a friend of a friend of a friend, named Debbie, who is staying temporarily in Gainesville as part of her vanlifing journey with her dog.

My first time in the area, the weather was chillier than I would have liked. That was not an issue this time around. The mercury climbed into the 80s (about 30C) and the air was a bit humid, although nothing like it will be in a few months! I was pretty pleased with the weather, although I felt sticky at times.

Demi lives near the University of Florida (she is a PhD student there, in linguistics) so I got to see the campus again, including a cool underpass I had remembered from before.

On my first day in town, I went back to the Alfred A. Ring nature park, which was as lush and calming as I had remembered.

The next day, Demi joined me for a tour of Jungle Friends. Like so many Gainesville residents, she had been unaware that there was a monkey sanctuary just a few miles north of town. It was fun for me to experience it all over again, but this time with a tour of folks who were seeing it and meeting the monkeys for the first time. I was so happy to be able to reconnect specifically with Zumie and Monkers, and Skotty, all of whom had stolen my heart last time.

Then later that afternoon and early evening, I explored a local nature park my host Allyson had suggested: the La Chua boardwalk trail. It was stunning. The light was incredible at that time of day. I saw more gators than maybe ever before (with the possible exception of the day when I cycled through the Everglades) and also many beautiful birds, and several anoles.

I also got a preview of the adjacent Gainesville-Hawthorne Trail, which I rode a few days later. (Stay tuned for that post.)

A couple days later, I met up with Debbie (it was her birthday!) and we went to Kanapaha Botanical Gardens, which my hosts Michael and Rosa had recommended. It was a beautiful place with the azaleas in bloom, and many Asian-garden elements as well, such as bamboo, a red bridge, and a few waterfalls.

Then I returned to Michael and Rosa’s beautiful cottage nestled in the woods, where I would sleep in an A-frame trailer next to the house. The driveway and the neighbors’ chickens really transported me to an alternate, “old Florida” reality. I soaked it all in, even enjoying amenities like their outdoor shower. The only downside was being awakened before dawn both mornings by the rooster crowing for what seemed like a solid hour… but the rustic charm was worth it.

—

Do you have your own dream or project, and would like some support or collaborative brainstorming about it? Schedule a free one-hour video or phone call with me!

Want to be notified of future blog posts? Use the green “sign up” button to subscribe!

Want to support my vision financially? I travel on a shoestring, in a continual process of manifesting a “salary” for the unconventional work I do in the world. You can make a one-time or monthly contribution, or even become a fairy godfunder! (Heartfelt thanks to all my godfunders, patrons, and supporters!)

3/13/26

Hello from St. Augustine! I’ll have lots more to write later about my recent travels, but right now I need to write about the wonderful time I had during my second visit to Tallahassee. This is a long post, but it covers a lot of beautiful and meaningful experiences and themes, so I hope you will “come along with me” by reading it.

I should perhaps start by mentioning that before this winter, Tallahassee had never really occupied any space in my mind. I do remember learning in fifth grade that it was the capital city of Florida, but beyond that, I had never really given it any thought. It had never entered my mind as a place to visit.

I’m so glad I did, though, first back in early February, and then again on my way back east after my panhandle adventures. It is a special place.

First, though, I want to detour a bit to mention an aspect of my life that has been growing in importance to me. It will tie into my “Tally tales” later in this post.

That is, animal communication. Telepathic animal communication, sometimes referred to as IIC (interspecies intuitive communication.) I touched on it at the end of my last post. Some of you may be familiar with the idea. If not, I recommend as an introduction to the topic this video of one of the world’s best known animal communicators, the South African woman Anna Breytenbach, in her work with a black leopard.

I’ve been interested in this topic ever since the spring of my initial year of travels, in 2022, when I stayed with a woman in Brooklyn, NY who told me some detailed personal stories of her own experiences working with animal communicators, first with her own cat, and then with a deceased cat of a family member of hers.

Those stories piqued my interest, and I did some research by first buying and reading a how-to book, and later attending a few online symposiums for animal communicators.

I had a resurgence of interest a few weeks ago, while cat sitting in Navarre. I reached out to a friend of mine who can do this sort of communication, and that friend was very supportive of my desire to learn. We have been doing video chats and messaging about how I can learn to do it. I’m feeling cautiously optimistic that I will indeed be able to develop this skill.

I practiced a bit in Navarre, with the two cats there, Nike and Sombra. I don’t think I’ve “got it” yet, but I did notice some changes in their behavior after my efforts (for example, more eye contact and more physical affection) so I found that encouraging.

Also in Navarre, I spent some time relaxing on the backyard swing. When I did so, I noticed many brown anole lizards appearing on the wooden support posts next to me, often making eye contact with me, and staying close by for longer than I would expect. It all felt very potentially powerful and exciting.

On the last morning of my Navarre cat sit, my host, Kelly—who had just arrived back after a trip to Egypt—incredibly kindly drove me 25 miles west to the Greyhound stop in Pensacola. I had mistakenly understood that the Greyhound made a stop in Navarre, which had led me to feel comfortable accepting that sit. When I realized the bus did not stop there, I was really concerned about how I would get back to Pensacola in an efficient way to catch it. When Kelly offered the ride, I was immensely grateful.

That Greyhound ride itself lasted more than five hours, but it passed without incident, and I found myself back in Tallahassee for four more nights.

It is a lovely city, hillier than most of Florida, with beautiful tree-lined streets.

I stayed once again for two nights with my wonderful Servas hosts Tim and Regine.

On my second day there, they hosted the Servas potluck I had arranged by reaching out to other local Servas hosts. Unfortunately, of the five households in the area, only two others were available that day, but we had a lovely potluck with Tim, Regine, a new-to-Servas member named Amy, and Tom, who was an existing longtime friend of Tim and Regine’s, and who was to be my next host.

I love the idea of connecting local Servas folks with each other; I’m going to set an intention to do more of that as I travel.

While staying with Tim and Regine, I ventured out for the kind of nature-park exploring I typically do in any new place. I set out first for the Goodwood Museum and Gardens, which was beautiful with the spring flowers.

Then I looked on the map and found a park—Governors Park—that honestly looked kind of boring, but I thought I would give it a try since it was nearby. I arrived and my fears were somewhat confirmed: instead of my preferred park terrain of forested trails, I found a large open field. I set out to walk the perimeter, though, and I did enjoy some nice views of the blue sky and open grass with a few trees.

As I rounded the third corner, though, I spotted what looked like a bit of a wooded trail.

Earlier, upon entering the park, I had seen a man seemingly hovering near the opening of that trail, which had made me a bit wary to explore it; that was why I had chosen to walk the sunny perimeter instead, despite the heat.

But I didn’t see anyone there now, so I ventured in. I was enjoying the shady path when I spotted that man sitting on a fallen log across the trail just ahead. I felt another moment of wariness, but then reminded myself that most of my encounters with strangers tend to go pretty well. So I chose to engage with him, by asking if he knew how much farther the trail went. He stood up and said he wasn’t sure—he had just stopped there on the log to eat his apple.

Then things turned magical, as I am continually finding they are wont to do.

We talked for probably at least 30 to 40 minutes… mostly about animal communication! It turns out he has been practicing it—though via a different approach from mine—for some years. (He said he had never talked to any humans about it.) His main approach has been to go out into nature parks as he travels (he also travels around Florida by bike, as it turns out) and sit very still, just allowing his presence to sink into the forest. He will return to the same spot for multiple days in a row, and he finds that as he does so, the animals will slowly make themselves more known, growing closer to him with time. He gave several cool examples.

In fact, he told me that about 20-30 minutes earlier, he had seen a snake on the trail, who slowly began moving toward him. As is his habit, he made a point to keep any visceral fear in check, and instead welcomed the connection with the snake.

Even more amazingly, he said he had noticed me shortly beforehand, walking on the other side of the field. He had suddenly felt struck by a compulsion to run over towards the opening of the trail to call out to me to come and look at the connection he was having with this snake.

What?

Wow.

The world is so strange and mystical sometimes.

He had decided not to do so, which was probably for the best, I thought, for various reasons… but… wow.

It was really cool to talk about many aspects of animal communication, consciousness, etc.

As I walked away after thanking him for the rich connection, I knew I needed some time to digest and soak it all in, so I found another little wooded spot nearby. Then I went back to the entrance of the park to unlock my bike (main pic in this post) and pedaled off to the natural-food store, all the while marveling at the magic of travel, consciousness, and the human and animal family we are all a part of.

After the dinner potluck the next evening, Tom helped me to load up my rig into his car, and we drove the few short miles to his longterm (40 years!) home with his wife, Katya. I had met these two briefly during my last stay with Tim and Regine, but this time I was able to stay as their guest for two nights.

They are both amazing people. Tom—who just had his 78th birthday—is still working as a professor at nearby Florida State University, and Katya (who sometimes goes by Ka) used to live in Portland in the 1970s, founding and contributing to various feminist and radical communities at that time! Talk about magic!! I was so excited to spend time with her and hear some of her stories. She also is a prolific collage artist. (I shared a few of her pieces in my earlier Tallahassee blog post.) And she writes haiku every day! More on both of those to come at the end of this post.

In addition to connecting with Tom and Ka, my main priority for staying at their house was to bicycle the nearby St. Marks Trail. It is a 16-mile rail-trail that goes all the way down to the gulf. The 32-mile round trip (plus a connector trail that goes right near their house) was a perfect day trip for me.

I found more magic on the trail. The weather was perfect—warm and sunny—and the greenery and shade were beautiful.

I experienced what I considered to be more magical animal connections, too:

First there was a small frog—the only one I have seen in Florida—who appeared on a bench I rested on, early in the day. It stayed near me for at least five or ten minutes, as I gazed upon it and did my best to connect on an energetic level.

Later, I saw a small tortoise on the trail, though I feared for its safety—I had nearly hit it, since it was hard to see on the trail—and it seemed to fear my presence, pulling its head in. I did kneel down to peer at it, hoping it would emerge. It did not, though I did notice it looking at me, blinking from time to time. Eventually I decided I should leave it in peace, so I moved on.

Then later, on another bench where I rested, a green anole showed up! Like its brown cousins in Navarre, it regarded me from a variety of angles. I have really been enjoying my anole connections ever since then. They seem to enjoy connecting with humans.

When I got back to the house at the end of the day, I was greeted by another magical being, Tom and Katya’s cat Jenny. She has a special way about her that mesmerizes anyone who meets her, Ka told me. She certainly mesmerized me.

Ka shared some haiku that she had written about me and my way of life, which I found delightful!

Then, after dinner, we dived into a collage-making session. I decided to focus on the theme that was top-of-mind for me, in the end creating more of an “assemblage,” as Ka called it, rather than a traditional collage that covers the whole page. I was very happy with it.

Each of the animals had significance for me: the frog because I had just connected with a frog that day; the giraffe because it is the symbol for the heart-centered Nonviolent Communication (NVC); and the monkey because I was excited to reconnect with the monkeys at Jungle Friends in the next few days.

Katya encouraged me to also write a haiku, based on the assemblage. After a few shaky attempts, I managed to find one that felt good to me:

Frog, giraffe, monkey

What do they all think about?

I will try to know

—

Want to be notified of future blog posts? Use the green “sign up” button to subscribe!

Want to support my vision financially? You can make a one-time or monthly contribution, or even become a Fairy Godfunder! (Heartfelt thanks to my patrons, contributors, and godfunders!)

3/6/26

Hello from Gainesville again! I’ve covered so much ground since I last posted—I need to catch up again! I’m going to start with Pensacola.

When I left off last time, my Host a Sister host Sharon had picked me up after my bike ride to Pensacola. I spent two nights with her, and we visited Fort Pickens, which was a very old and historically rich site. I’m including a few photos of plaques to give a glimpse into the history of the place, but you can dig deeper to read more if you’re interested. The evening light was especially lovely as we explored the grounds.

The next day, we had lunch at Pensacola’s single, long-running vegan restaurant, which put the Traveling Wilburys song in my head. I appreciated the nexus of two of my favorite things: railroad history and vegan BLTs!

After lunch, she showed me the downtown area, some of whose architecture was surprisingly reminiscent of New Orleans, although a huge construction project made it harder to feel the full vibe. Appropriately, we got there just a few hours before the annual Mardi Gras parade was to begin.

The next morning, Sharon generously drove me across two very long bridges to get me to Pensacola Beach as my starting point for the bike ride back to Navarre. Despite the headwind (again! argh!) it was as pleasant a ride as the reverse direction had been. I didn’t take more photos of the white-sand shores, but I enjoyed them in the moment.

I arrived back at Kelly’s house in Navarre, but this time she was off on her travels, so the two kitties, Sombra and Nike, were my greeting party. They were both friendly, and remembered me from a few days prior, and we got along great for the following two weeks.

While I was with them, I decided to get more serious about my longstanding desire to learn interspecies intuitive communication, with the help of a friend who is able to do it. I will plan to continue writing about IIC as that journey unfolds for me, but in Navarre, I made several efforts to communicate telepathically both with Nike and Sombra, and also with a group of at least four brown anole lizards in the backyard.

This home’s location was not well situated for me to spend time outdoors: the bicycle infrastructure was unsafe and unpleasant, and very few natural areas (besides the beach) were near enough to be accessible to me. So, I spent time inside, connecting with the kitties, catching up on phone and video calls with friends and family, and doing my Cambly online English tutoring work.

One cool in-person interaction fell into place, though. I belong to a Facebook group called Full Time Travelers and Nomads, run by a woman (with whom I share a rare November 8 birthday!) named Heather Markel. (I got to meet Heather in Manhattan during my year of travels in 2022, which was really cool!) In that group, there is a weekly post asking where in the world people will be in the next two weeks. I usually add my location, but up until now I had never been in the same place at the same time as another member. I thought it would be especially unlikely in this case, in such a relatively unknown area, but I typed in “Florida panhandle, USA.” Amazingly, another pet sitting US-nomadic woman named Dani happened to be staying about an hour’s drive away, in the panhandle town of Niceville! We connected online, and then she made the drive down to pick me up in Navarre and take me to the (much more scenic) Navarre Beach, a few miles down the road, which I had passed through on my bike rides to and from Pensacola.

We ended up hanging out for a full five hours, talking nonstop about our similar lifestyles. First we stopped at a fun tropical-themed bar, and then went over to walk the pier. We happened to arrive there just as some lifeguard trainees were about to jump from the pier into the water below, and then swim to shore. That was fun to watch.

I’ll leave you with a ridiculous bonanza of Nike (tripod tabby) and Sombra (black beauty) photos, because it’s been a long stretch of posts recently with no cat sits. Hopefully this can tide you over until my next sit, in late March in St. Petersburg.

This last photo is what I saw when I opened my eyes after an attempt at a telepathic communication session. It’s the only time I saw them both looking at me intently like that.

Next up: lots more magic in Tallahassee!

—

Want to support my vision financially? You can make a one-time or monthly contribution, or even become a Fairy Godfunder! (Heartfelt thanks to my patrons, contributors, and godfunders!)

Want to be notified of future blog posts? Use the green “sign up” button to subscribe!