Today, I thought I would share two of my favorite places to eat in Jacksonville, Florida with you. I spent all last summer working there, so I’m getting kind of nostalgic, and had to visit my favorites when I went back to St. Augustine last week.
The socialite cousin of Chamblin’s Bookmine, this bookstore-cum-coffee shop-makeshift lunch destination is simultaneously one of the most bustling and calm in the city. Located at 215 N. Laura street right on the city square, smack in the middle of downtown Jacksonville, it’s an oasis of art, literature, and oversize cookies at your fingertips. Best of all, if you forget your book, they have plenty to choose from, and a liberal coffee selection on the cafe side. 
The closest Jacksonville gets to France, Bistro Aix has the smell and warmth of a boulangerie and the wine menu of fine Parisian dining. Complete with a wood fired oven and salmon smoked in-house, pizzas the likes of the one below come topped with caviar at the most affordable price this side of San Marco. Adjoined is Bar X, where you can soak in fashionably low Deco lighting with a Death in the Afternoon even Hemingway would approve of. Afterwards? It’s off to the nearby shops and boutiques lining San Marco’s beautiful neighborhood as the sea’s waves peak at you, just a block away. 
Outfit Details:
Blazer: Zara
Pants: Givenchy
Shoes: H&M
Bag: Kate Spade
And at the top of the hill? A fairy tale castle surrounded by the terrible legend of the eccentric and reclusive prince who could not face the reality of his diminishing power. In its stead, he built himself an edifice, a makeshift temple to his majesty, ready to receive his subjects when they should come (or it would have been, to this day it remains unfinished). Unfortunately, we were strictly prohibited from taking any pictures of the actual inside of the castle, but here’s a promotional photo of the reception area:
Once I finally reached the city, I immediately bought a map and some “toast” which turned out to be none other than a well-timed panini. After planning out the day, I decided I would go to the hostel and drop off my luggage bag. Unfortunately, it was then I realized (bereft of wifi and data) that I had no idea, except for a general direction, where the hostel was. With that, I started walking in the direction of the island area (there are 4 major ones that compose Stockholm) that I thought it was on. The Hostel’s name was “Lodge 52,” so I decided to keep walking until I came to the address numbered “52” (which was much further away than it sounds). My father likes to say “even a blind hog finds an acorn now and then,” while I cannot speak for hogs, I can say I had an incredible stroke of dumb luck, because apartment 52 and Lodge 52 of this random road happened to be the same place.
The Clothesline 