Palm Beach

Palm Beach, Wow. Long stretches of white soft sanded beaches follows roads before you. The sun and sky bounce off the water, like glass reflecting the pristine world around you. It was bright, it was warm, it was beautiful. We were wandering, Hilda, her husband, Dick and I, winding down roads to catch sight of the elite world. Houses faded shades of pink, beige or sky blue huddled next to each other. Yards manicured with care. A light breeze and palm trees waved hello to us and we passed them by.


Soon we come to a wide open span of white beach; brightly colored parachutes dotted the sky. Surfer’s suit up or strip down, but the cars aren’t the beat up VW vans of California. These aren’t the California or even Hawaiian surfer dudes. The rich play here. Mercedes, X5’s, Rovers, Cayennes park parallel to the beach. Do you want get out Joan? No, No, let’s keep going. Too many beautiful people are playing on the sands; I know that I’m not one of the beautiful. However, the water calls to me. I have to see it, touch it. The beach is quieter down further, its winter in Palm Beach. Not many people are around; even the locals don’t show up until mid February.

I see a lone spot on the beach. Can we stop now? A quick U-turn, easy parking and before the engine even dies, the car door is open and I am out. Dick stays in the car to read, he’s done this before. Hilda follows me as I pull her toward the beach. We climb over the painted white scalloped concrete wall. For me, this is a minor achievement. Shoes in hand, jeans rolled up to the knee, we walk down to the water’s edge. Hilda warns me away from some dark blue balloons on the sand, they are jelly fish – and dangerous. At the blend between water and land, we walk down the shoreline. The sand is warm. The water flows between my toes as the waves lap in, it’s warm. A wave comes in and suddenly, I no longer can see my feet. The tide pulls the water away from the beach and I wish that I could go with it. I feel free and I wonder is this what heaven is like. Soon it’s time to meander to a different part of Palm Beach. As we walk back to the car, I see fluffy clouds and blue skies mirrored in the ocean waters. I know not what is top or bottom. A moment of heaven….. Dick looks up from his paper as we climb back in the car. He jabbers on about some silly article from the paper. Hilda and I smile and nod our heads as we have shared a good moment.

We wander further to the main drive of Palm Beach, the shopping market of the rich and famous. For a brief moment, we are going to try to pretend to be one of the elite. Tiffany’s, Saks, Neiman’s, all are there. We stop for a heavenly lunch at the place to be seen, the restaurant – Taboo. The food is divine, the people watching is even better. Rich ladies and gentleman abound. The ladies with their stylishly coifed hair, shiny objects at their throats, lovely sheer white and blue dresses dine and gossip together. Gentlemen with their fine Armani jackets and much younger trophies laugh loudly, eat and drink heartily. Beautiful models walk amongst the tables, hawking designer dresses, potent perfumes, and bling, lots and lots of bling.

Towards the end of lunch, I realize that besides being under dressed in a t-shirt and jeans and having no diamonds, rubies, emeralds of any size on me, that I am at the ripe old age of almost 50 (in a matter of days) am the youngster here. As I look closer at the ladies surrounding me, I notice that mouths spread from ear to ear, foreheads are high, the high cheeks and smooth skin are nothing but an illusions created by a plastic surgeon. The gentlemen too, have a nip or tuck or added hair or two. Even the beautiful models, when seen up close, are tired with makeup caked on their face to hide their years.

As we walk through the side alleys, visiting exquisite boutiques that make me think of Italy, I realize that this is nothing but a fantasy, a wonderful fantasy for the wealthy. We see an elderly lady in a wheel chair, accompanied by a well dressed man. He offers her a tissue and remarks to her about how wonderful it is to get out, dine on good food, and see her friends. I realize that this isn’t a doting son; no…..this is her paid companion. The fantasy is cracking.

After walking for what seems like forever, we find we are on a quest to find Richard a cup of coffee. How can this world exist without a corner Starbucks or Peete’s Coffee? Dog shops with diamond collars and bowls, yes. Fabulous purse shops with photos of Jolie or Aniston carrying their bags, yes. Rows and rows of bling shops, yes. Coffee, no. Finally, in a back alley way off the main drag we find a sandwich shop which sells coffee. The prices are reasonable; perhaps we have found ourselves back in the real world. I venture into a small boutique next to the sandwich shop. Fifty percent off everything, priced to sell, the signs scream loudly. This is my kind of place. I find a pair of hoop earrings with a small ball of diamonds that dangle freely on the hoop. For the first time in my fantasyland, I ask the price. In my mind, I say to myself…..if the earrings are $200 or less I am going to buy them, even though I have no idea how I would pay for them. The saleswoman rummages through paper, her reading glasses perched on her nose, she looks up over her glasses and says……these earrings are 14K hammered gold, (my resolve begins to shake), they are from a designer in Argentina, (my heart begins to sink) the diamonds are 5.6 karats (heart is now sunk), the price is $2695. I know that $2695 isn’t $26.95. I quietly but firmly say, so that would be about $1400 on sale. She nods her head and wants me to try them on. No, No……it’s time to go. As much as my heart wants to be one of them…..to live in beautiful places, to eat fabulous food, and live in warm weather……it’s not who I am.

Palm Beach……wow. Bainbridge Island……home.