Pensacola, Thursday Evening

I have had a really special time in Apalachicola. Everyone has been so keen to help, flexible and friendly. The icing on the cake is undoubtedly being invited to see his beautiful personal home by the remarkable Bill Spohrer, owner of the Coombes House Inn, followed by a lovely dinner at the Owl restaurant. Bill's equally remarkable wife, interior decorator Lynn Wilson, is delayed driving, but we chat a couple of times on the phone.
I have a 7.30 departure to get to Pensacola in time for the King of Spain's speech. Despite the early start, Estella cooks me a lovely breakfast and sends me on my way with freshly baked muffins and two mugs of coffee in insulated containers. Bill pops in with the local morning newspaper, as we have been discussing papers at dinner.
The drive back west to pensacola takes me three and a half hours. I ignore the route that Pensacola Tourism has recommended, through the ghastly abomination of urban sprawl around Panama City and gradually wiggle my way north and west until the Interstate 10.
I have been moved to the Crowne Plaza Hotel, not ideal, as the bedrooms are rather badly noise affected by the nearby Interstate. But I like the fact that they have retained the entrance lobby of the original railway station as a feature.
I venture back to the Paradise Inn at Pensacola Beach, to both give it a second chance and see Dana at the hotel. But it's clear that the resort is akin to Blackpool in the sun and clearly not my sought after 'Hidden Florida' by any stretch of the imagination. Dana's read my blog and can't understand why I was even sent there. The tacky sign at the entrance of the resort, featured in today's blog, pretty well says it all.
I head for downtown to see the King and Queen of Spain, who are in town to mark the 450th anniversary of its' founding. A kindly police officer takes a shine to my accent and lets me park right behind the museum where the Royals are based. No checks of course and the boot of my extremely smart Chevrolet Impala could have been full of anything. I shouldn't complain...
An enormous crowd has gathered, the Kings says all the right things about the historic links between Spain and 'La Florida' and the large Spanish contingent in the crowd chant, 'Juan Ca, Juan Ca'. Sounds rather more polite in Spanish, than English. Bizarrely, I find myself translating for CBS News who want to interview some of the wives of Spanish air force pilots training at Pensacola Air station.
I have a nice, if brief, visit to Historic Pensacola Village, which i hope to find time to do in more depth tomorrow. Dena and Mickey, two of ther museum's educators, take me under their wing and kindly arrange for some of the staff to drop everything and pose for some photos. For the first time since coming to Pensacola, I feel at last that I am actually getting some relevant material.
I visit the Amtrak station, really modern, well kept, but totally deserted and currently without any passenger traffic. I think Hurricane Ivan has something to do with its' demise, but I'll investigate more tomorrow. Actually, Ivan had a bit of a go at the Crowne Plaza and the place was closed for ages as a result. Gail, who was on the plane from Atlanta, sent me a photo, which I have included in the blog.
There being nobody from Pensacola Tourism who seems interested in my visit after working hours, I have again been left to my own devices for the evening.
It wouldn't have happened in Apalachicola.