Ever notice the disconnect of what you expect of a place you've heard of and what the reality is? I tend to imagine all my friends' houses are nicer/better decorated/cleaner than mine (this is not always the case) and for some reason I imagined that all the buildings at New College would be taller and handsomer than they are. And of course, the dorms are lived in by Young People for whom order is not always a priority. That being said: it's a big campus for an 800-student school, spread out on two sides of the Tamiami Trail and connected by a vine-covered overpass. A few of the buildings (notably the College Hall) used to belong one of the Ringling Bros. estates, and it's all pink marble and baroque flourishes, and quite beautiful (from the outside. It was closed when I saw it). The rest of the buildings are less glamorous, mostly beige stucco or cement. Still, the area down near the beach is gorgeous. We went down, the first night, for sunset, which is something of a sacrament for a lot of people--students, faculty, and administrators. Bec and I hung her hammock up and watched the slow shift of colors over the water (the beach looks across to one of the keys--I don't know that I ever figured out which one).



My favorite part, of which I did not take photos, was the pantry and kitchen. Looking at the things that were created for staff use--how the sinks were laid out, where the stove and ovens were, the huge "refrigeration units" that took up one wall--is somehow more interesting to me than all the tapestries and plush. Though I will say that Ringling's bedroom, with its Napoleon III beds and the shaving stand in the bathroom (the tub was carved from one piece of marble, and God knows how they got it up the stairs), was pretty luxe.
We went out on the patio, then decided we were starving and got something to eat at the cafe.
The rest of the visit was sort of an agglomeration of errands and meals. This happened:
Bec had been thinking of getting her hair cut, and with my moral support (and credit card) the thing was arranged. Plus: food shopping at Trader Joe's, more wandering around on campus, and a lot of cuddling. A splendid visit.
Of course there had to be a confusion. I had left the folder in which I kept all the documents I needed (reservations, car rental agreement, etc.) plus some docs that Becca needed to sign, at the hotel in Orlando. When I called they assured me they had it and would hold it for me. So I left Sarasota early, drove back up, and went to the hotel, where, of course, They Didn't Have It. Not a world-breaker, but irritating. So I got to the airport earlier than absolutely necessary, and in due course (after a seriously bumpy flight) was transported back to San Francisco.
Already I'm planning for next year: ICFA and Becca FTW.