A Hedonistic Day in West Palm Beach

For the hedonistic solo traveler.

By Thought Daughter Travels

By far the most darling city with the worst reputation, not many young, active solo travelers find themselves in West Palm Beach. Why? Is it because of the attitudes, the whispers of cultishness, the general draw for activities besides polo tournaments and boating competitions slim? Maybe you’ve been told there’s not much to see there, that it’s too laid back, to the point of being treacly. Currently holding the place in my heart for favorite airport hotel, West Palm is my most recent conquest, a place I have been able to make lovely in my mind. A small warning that I might be biased: growing up in a small town south of Orlando, home of a gas station and Publix only, it was the closest big city; my parents would drive us down to the farmer’s market by Clematis, or to get ice cream and walk on the Municipal Beach on a Sunday in November, when the weather was pleasant. They would go to Sunfest by the waterfront in their wilder days, and leave my brother and I with our grandparents. Now the only times I traipse around the little city are when I go for work, in which I’ve recently constructed what would be the absolute perfect day in West Palm Beach: a day set for myself, a “thought daughter” esque writer, constantly on the brink of existentialism, bored with everything except people-watching.

As always, a perfect day begins and unfolds near the water, and a nice, thought provoking walk, the length depending on where you stay the night before. Surfside Diner on Royal Palm Way is a perfect stop for a black coffee on the run, a quaint cafe facing the street, its tiny blue tables boasting fried grouper sandwiches and Eggs Benedict. Ordering at the counter and waiting for it there is always a good idea anyway; watching the orders appear facedown on the wooden countertop, the lazy handwriting of the servers, so early in the morning. Potentially full of families, especially if you come to town on a Sunday, catching the church crowd. Coffee in hand, the beach is a mere few steps away, where you can lay your towel and your items, for me, my undoubtedly large Ted Baker, full of my journal, my poetry notebook, my runes and my current read, the out of season Master and Margarita (when I left, it was fall in New York).

After a dip in the ocean and baking in the sun for a few minutes, assuming you’re still looking presentable, behold my favorite bookstore in all of Florida, Raptis Rare Books, a quiet antiquarian bookshop that sits on Worth Avenue, its silent crown. A gem in the midst of the Chanel and Bottega Venetta, the store specializes in fine first editions and classics, with stunning floor to ceiling displays behind fragile glass covers, wine red editions of F. Scott Fitzgerland and Homer. Maybe you’ll have the blessing of meeting Matthew and Adrienne Raptis, who founded the store on their love of rebinding and repairing custom clamshell boxes, and Greek status that adorn the store, their heads on display. The private office of the literary paradise is usually open to the public; located behind the displays, an elegant pool table sits, untouched, and several brown leather armchairs, and Matthew and Adrienne have even put in a cigar lounge conjoined to the shop, and a literary themed coffee shop. Though the store is small it is grand and easy to get lost in, the likes of Artie Shaw playing as you comb through the inscribed editions of Rosseau, of Virginia Woolf. The current highest priced item is Cervantes’ final revised third edition of Parts I and II of Don Quixote- for $1,900,000.00.

Soon it’s time to take yourself to lunch: and BiCe Ristorante is waiting, just a few doors down, courtyard dining that’s coveted and chic. Let it be noted that BiCe is my perfect pick for a solo lunch because of the limited space the courtyard offers- squeezed between an antique jewelry store and a CJ Laing, it is the perfect spot to watch the shoppers and the lovers, who linger nearby the storefronts, a shared space. But the perfect table for a lone diner is waiting- a small spot at the very front, nose to nose with the entertainment, a Spanish guitar player on Saturday mornings and afternoons. Opt for a glass of the Whispering Angel in one of their sparkling champagne tulip flutes, to be enjoyed with the Parma e Mozzarella pizza- mozzarella, roasted cherry tomatoes, arugula, prosciutto San Daniele, and extra virgin olive oil, while you enjoy the music. The service is curt and friendly, a chic spot to stop and take a break, not intimate a place enough to linger due to the quick turnaround table service.