in A Girl's Gotta Swear, The State We're In, Things we do

The other half of Castroville — this time via pedal power

As promised yesterday, in this post, we rode our bicycles 5 miles into town to finish exploring today.

(Note: we are not cyclists. We ride our bikes on the right side of the road, we wear helmets, and we use turn signals, but any similarities to serious, or even knowledgeable bikers, end there. I am simply too nervous and uncoordinated to make anything other than a leisure activity out of it. You know what I hear in my head when I ride my bike? The theme music for Mrs. Gulch/Wicked Witch of the West from “The Wizard of Oz”. The whole time. Tim’s a better rider, and he knows how to fix a fair amount of bicycle-related stuff, but really, they’re just alternate forms of transportation for us.)

And now that you know that it takes every bit of focus I have just to stay upright and moving forward on the thing, you’ll understand why I was unable to juggle my phone into my hands and get a photo of Tim riding in front of me on our way home, when a cowboy came out of his driveway a little too quickly, and Tim spooked his horse.

That’s right.

Dude was on horseback, and horsie-poo apparently has bigger issues with bicycles than I do. It was a true “Wow are we ever in the country” moment.

Anyway, the north side of Castroville included antique store finds, more historic homes and wildflowers, a gourmet shop with free samples (!), and lunch at a locally owned restaurant.

Not a piggy bank. A Miss Piggy bank! Unfortunate coin slot placement, but still a steal at $9.95. (Breakable. We left her there.)

Not a piggy bank. A Miss Piggy bank! Unfortunate coin slot placement, but still a steal at $9.95. (Breakable. We left her at the antique store.)

The original 1845 homestead of Castroville's founder, Henri Castro, is now a guest cottage.

The original 1845 homestead of Castroville’s founder, Henri Castro, is now a guest cottage.

This place is abloom!

This place is simply abloom!

We bought these two items, pear & fennel butter and a delicious fresh salsa, after sampling them at Taste Elevated. We also learned that they quadruple in weight on a 5-mile bike ride back home, uphill, in the Texas afternoon sunshine. Next time? Tim wears the backpack.

We bought these two items, pear & fennel butter and a delicious fresh salsa, after sampling them at Taste Elevated, a local success story of the “hometown girl makes it big” sort. (Whole Foods carries her stuff, y’all. Whole Foods.)
Then I learned that full jars quadruple in weight on a 5-mile bike ride back home, uphill, in the Texas afternoon sunshine.
Next time? Either Tim wears the backpack or we stop and eat our stuff at the halfway point, because I’m pretty sure I came across as uncharitable when I shouted, with a mile still left to go, “Oh my god, how many fucking jars of salsa did we buy???”

Lunch at Nemo's Seafood Grill. The fried oyster po'boy was tasty, but became not-such-a-good-choice on that steamy ride home afterwards. Urp.

We ate lunch at Nemo’s Seafood Grill, a little later than planned, because I followed the wrong GPS coordinates, which took us a mile and a half in the opposite direction. I swear I don’t know why Tim continues to let me navigate. I’m 47. I am not going to get any better at it. Anyway, the fried oyster po’boy was tasty, but became not-such-a-good-choice on that steamy uphill ride home afterwards.
Urp.

Tomorrow’s adventure: Golf for Tim, laundry for me. There will be no photo essay.

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