A Three-Day Getaway to Jacksonville
By Ananya Bakshi
I arrive in Jacksonville on a humid Thursday afternoon, the kind of day where the sun seems determined to burn off all semblance of the morning's cool breeze. My husband’s childhood stories of growing up on the St. Johns River fill my mind as I navigate the city’s winding streets, feeling both familiar and foreign at once.
I’m heading to the Hotel Palms, a small, unassuming place tucked away in Atlantic Beach. It's far from the flashy resorts you might find elsewhere, but that’s what I love about it. The moment I pull up, I'm greeted by a front porch dotted with Adirondack chairs and the hum of conversation, like I'm stepping into the backyard of an old friend rather than a hotel.
This trip to Jacksonville is a bit different for me. Instead of visiting my in-laws or heading straight to my husband’s old haunts along the river, my sister-in-law, Ellen, and I have decided to live like tourists. We’re taking three days to explore the city with fresh eyes—sampling its culinary offerings, diving into its cultural scene, and maybe even catching some live music. It’s been years of visiting, but somehow, I feel like this is my first real chance to get to know Jacksonville on my own terms.
Day One: A New Perspective
After checking in and tossing our bags in our room, Ellen and I decide to grab an early dinner at Orsay, a French bistro that everyone from our local Uber driver to my mother-in-law swears by. As we settle into a cozy corner table, the smell of butter and garlic floats through the air, and I can’t help but feel like I’ve been transported to a Parisian café. We order the duck confit, which arrives crispy on the outside, tender on the inside, and perfectly paired with a glass of Bordeaux. By the time the check comes, we’re thoroughly convinced that the local hype is well deserved.
After dinner, we wander over to the Riverside Arts Market, which sets up under the Fuller Warren Bridge every Saturday. This weekly market is like a microcosm of Jacksonville’s quirky charm—booths filled with local art, live music, and food trucks serving everything from gourmet grilled cheese to vegan ice cream. I lose track of time sifting through handmade jewelry while Ellen chats up a vendor about the finer points of growing orchids. As the sun dips behind the bridge, casting long shadows across the river, I’m struck by how easy it is to fall in love with this place all over again.
Day Two: On the Water
No trip to Jacksonville would be complete without getting out on the St. Johns River. My husband grew up on these waters, his childhood punctuated by boat rides, fishing trips, and lazy afternoons diving from skiffs. Ellen and I decide to rent a small boat for the day, channeling our inner locals as we weave through the marshes and estuaries that snake along the river’s edge.
We spend the morning exploring hidden coves, the sun warming our skin as we glide past mangroves and sandbars. The water is calm today, a far cry from the choppy waves I remember from my last visit, and there’s a serenity to it all that’s hard to put into words. As we pull up to a small dock for lunch at The Sandollar Restaurant, I’m reminded of why my husband speaks so fondly of his hometown. There’s a rhythm here, a connection to the water that’s both calming and invigorating.
After a long day on the river, we make our way back to the hotel, sun-kissed and tired in the best possible way. We opt for a quiet dinner in, ordering a couple of salads and some fresh seafood from a nearby market. Ellen suggests a night out, but the allure of the hotel’s fire pit proves too strong. We grab a bottle of wine and settle into the Adirondack chairs, trading stories until the embers fade.
Day Three: Nightlife and Nostalgia
Our last day in Jacksonville begins with a trip to the Cummer Museum of Art & Gardens, one of my favorite spots in the city. The museum’s collection is impressive, but it’s the gardens that always draw me back. There’s something magical about wandering among the oak trees draped in Spanish moss, with the river stretching out in the background. It’s the kind of place where time seems to slow, and you can almost hear the whispers of the past mingling with the rustle of the leaves.
For our final night, we decide to check out the local music scene. Jacksonville’s nightlife is a mixed bag, but The Volstead has a reputation for its lively atmosphere and killer cocktail menu. We walk in just as the band is setting up, and within minutes, the place is buzzing with energy. The music is a mix of blues and jazz, the kind that gets your toes tapping before you even realize it. I sip my drink and take it all in—the laughter, the music, the unmistakable charm of a city that never tries too hard.
As we leave the bar and step into the cool night air, I’m filled with a sense of contentment. This isn’t the Jacksonville I first met all those years ago through my husband’s stories; it’s a city I’ve come to know and love in my own right. And while New England may be where we live, a part of me will always be here, on the river, in the gardens, and dancing to the rhythm of this place.
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