Here is a friendly, handsome, and approachable tourist pointing out the St. Augustine Marina sign. This is to show that contrary to semi-popular belief, this city is not on the Florida west coast. Off to see the Ripley’s Museum, not really to be confused with Ripley’s Believe It or Not. It’s a walking tour set up in an old three storey hotel and would be the less entertaining if they had not built such fancy hotels at some point. If you are expecting to see hundreds of exhibits of astonishing facts and novel displays, this is not the place. Only around 20% of the exhibits are something you’ve never seen or heard of before.
The explanation is simple. Ripley is now a chain of, I think the lady said, 79 museums world-wide, and no one museum has more than its share of the collection. The believe it or not part is the cartoons you used to see in the newspaper, those are not connected with the museums except in a most indirect way. A good half the exhibits are pictures hanging on the wall or various pieces of junk that Ripley, a very wealthy man, picked up during his world travels. He was not an explorer, but a newspaper editor.It is worth the tour but don’t be expecting to be amazed. Other than the scale model of a Ferris wheel made out of meccano parts, the best item is a revolving tunnel that fools your senses into thinking it tips over. Most everything else is walk-past since very little is unique. For example, there is a real shrunken head, but it is hardly the only shrunken head in the world. Very little is original, there are models of the world’s tallest man and headless chicken. Believe it or not, when you’ve seen one Ripley’s, you’ve likely seen them all.
Across the A1A bridge, I visited some beach areas, then back downtown to park and walk around what I now know to be the Arts district. The buildings are historical but the businesses aren’t. I did tour a spice and tea shop but at $80 a pound, it was out of my league. I got the didgeridoo man to do some Doors. Busking is legal if you stay 50 feet away from St. George’s Street. I toured a used bookstore, but they weren’t used enough for me. And I just don’t have $9 for half a frozen banana with chocolate sprinkles.Around a half of the shops were selling food of some type, prices were virtually identical, beginning at $6.50 and on up. I managed to walk a mile in an hour. The climate is much nicer than in Miami, which helps. Did I see anything new or unusual? Let me think on that. Other than the didgeridoo, no. The same old pennie roller machine, though the old drug store had a lot of the older (empty) medicine bottles. I say the aromas were better. Pumpkin pie, a leather shop, coffee grinders, toasted bagels. Breath deep, that’s the only thing free in central St. Augustine.
There is a notable absence of public benches. No place to sit down without ordering something. I would now definitely say I’ve done St. Augustine, and that is why I was partial to Savannah, which is similar but ten times bigger. And if you call this tourist season, it is going to be a major flop. Counting the museum and the district, I saw maybe 50 people in two days. Tourist ghost town. One thing that always makes me sad is privileged youth. I kept crossing paths with a young couple. Like myself, the guy at 18 looked maybe 14, but he was touring the town with his total babe girlfriend. He was driving a brand new Focus with Minnesota plates and taking the royal tour of every place. The car had no travel gear, so they were staying in hotels. Sigh, but let’s talk economics in another way.
Have you seen the latest stats on the “disappearing middle class”? Down from 70% to 44% of the population, and vast numbers of them are planning to work on into their 80’s. What did I tell them twenty years ago about having to pay it all back one day? No hourly employee plans to work forever unless they have no choice.
When I was 27, I had a class argument with a co-worker. I stated that since I was working class, it was up to management, not me, to make a profit, since I did not share in that profit. The co-worker felt insulted because he made the same union wage but considered himself middle class. While I invested heavily in the future, he lived by borrowing every penny he could. When I left the company 14 years later with a Masters, he was still bragging how much his house had “gone up”.
I wonder if that could explain why there are so few middle class tourists around these days.
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