Washed up on Estero Island, one of several barrier islands along the Florida west coast, it is flanked to the south by upscale Naples, and to the north by the expensive beach-cottage fantasy land of Sanibel/Captiva islands. It has neighborhood bars instead of bistros. Shops, not boutiques. Parasail rides. McDonald’s. Ice cream stands. A Turkey Testicle Festival.
It’s a dozen or so miles from here, and a favorite getaway. And safe, for the nonce, now that the housing crunch has mercifully rained on development fever.