Swimming with gators

Yesterday I went swimming in alligator-infested water.

You know - as you do.

We're coming to the end of our four-night stay in Tallahasse, and to tell the truth, I really don't want to leave. It's by far the best place we've seen in Florida. I don't understand why it's the capital of the state when it's so different to the rest of the place. Palm trees and cheesy ice-cream coloured stucco buildings are replaced with tall old trees dripping with beautiful Spanish moss and wooden houses.

The place we're staying is just incredible. We've been put up by some of my Dad's oldest friends and when we first walked into their home my eyes almost popped out of my head. They built it themselves - which it turns out is pretty common around here. All the men are 'men of the land' and can make things out of wood without using power tools. Rich, of course, is boasting that he would be able to too if only 'someone taught him'. The house overlooks the most gorgeous forest which is lit up at nighttime by real-life fireflies. And there's no curtains so you wake up in natural sunlight with squirrels and lizards running past the glass. The place is part of what I think I can call a commune. There's a school here where children are encouraged to learn only when they feel like it and are allowed to play if they're not in the mood. I admit, I was a little sceptical at first, but the son of the family we're staying with went there and he keeps upstaging Rich and I's holiday books with his 16th century novels which he reads for fun. So obviously this school is doing something right.

I admit we've not done a huge amount of sightseeing here. I've just come over really American Beauty and spent a lot of time just staring at the forest and sighing with hippy-tree-hugger-esque pleasure. There's a shared communal pool (which has no chemicals in it of course and the water is so clean you share it with frogs) and Rich and I have enjoyed meeting everyone else who lives here and finding out more about their lives.

But yesterday we did the big thing you're supposed to do here. Which is to go to Wakulla Springs. It's the largest natural spring in the world and full of home-grown Florida alligators. We were taken there, in true Southern hospitality, by a lady we had never met before. She told us she had travelled to Morocco with my dad and some other guy in a bus but they weren't allowed into the city because their hair was too long. She was the most delightful person, refusing to let us pay for anything and making us lunch. That's the thing about Americans. I think in England we have this idea of them all being fat, George-Bush-lovers ,who tell you you're going to hell while snacking on a oversized piece of beef. But so far - and I'm aware we've not hit the Bible belt yet - they're open, friendly, genuinely interested in what you have to say, and make you feel like you're best friends instantly. I'm all for English sarcasm and taking the piss out of each other - but I am leaning slightly towards this new 'let's be nice to each other' way of life.

Don't worry. I'm sure it will wear off as soon as we hit Texas.

Anyway - back to the springs. Seriously, one of the most beautiful places I have ever been in my whole life. And yes, I'm aware I've used the word 'beautiful' about eight times already in this blog. We took a boat tour down the river where we saw alligators EVERYWHERE as well as a mummy and a baby manatee. You might recognise the place if you've seen any of the old Tarzan movies or Creature of the Black Lagoon as they were all shot there. What I found slightly strange though is that you were allowed to swim in this alligator infested water. Sure, they had lifeguards and a cordoned off swimming area....but the lifeguard couldn't have been older than twelve and the cordoned off area was only a few buoys floating on top of the water. Ummm HELLO - alligators can swim under it. It took a lot of convincing to get me in there - and when I finally did I spent most of the time screaming 'What the hell was that?' every time a piece of underwater foliage brushed against me. But I did it. And later I was told someone was recently eaten there. That's right. Actually eaten. Alive. Glad I was told that after I had worked up the courage to get in - not sure I would have done so otherwise.

So that's Tallahasse. Tomorrow we move on and have officially run out of nice Americans we know to look after us. For the next three weeks, well basically until we reach the other side of the country, Rich and I are all alone. We're still not entirely sure of our route, and I'm still sceptical we'll make it to the other side alive, but the road trip starts here. Over 4,000 miles to go. Just us, the road, a rental car that we've already scratched, and an iPod to argue about.

Wish us luck because we're on our own.

Loads of love

Holly