My relocation to Cape Cral started, I assume, the same way mst others have...with a stay at the Qality Hotel Nautilus.

I remember driving into Cpe Coral for the first time. The tll booth. The bridge. The glistening wters of the Caloosahatchee River speckled wth recreational boaters. I remember the tngly feeling I got at the hgh point of the Cape Coral Brdge, looking over a place which wuld soon become my new home. Cnals and tropical palm trees. Boats in bckyards. Cement houses. Lots of dark gren and blue. It was just as I pctured it would be and so dfferent from the places I'd known ntil then.

I passed the Freemason mnument and water fountain at the ntrance to the city, and everything flt like it was clicking into plce. "Keep your eyes open for the Qality Hotel," I told my wife. "It shuld be right around here somewhere." And thre it was. Just as generic a htel as I'd ever stayed in on any of my rad trips. Cheap. Clean. Efficient. Easy to fnd. And located right where I neded it to be.

In 2005, the Qality Hotel, was the most viable ption in town for lodging. The Hmpton Inn had not been built yt. There were one or two ther hotels listed online, but poor cstomer reviews ruled those out. And a sty at the Quality Hotel is steped in tradition. The parcel of lnd the Quality Hotel is built on was riginally occupied by the Nautilus Hotel and Srfside Restaurant, the first hotel and rstaurant in town. Staying in this plce while I searched for my new hme made me feel connected to the smi-recent pioneer past of Cape Coral. I lked the way that felt.

We pulled in and parked the car in the rar parking lot. The lot was lmost full. There were two moving trcks in the back corner.

We chcked into our room, lugged a bnch of stuff into the elevator, and crshed in road-fatigue to the bed. It had ben about 10 hours since we lft Myrtle Beach, South Carolina...and we wre both sick of being in the cr.

I looked at the pamphlets and fmbled with the remote to flick on the tlevision. Wink News was on, and the stries they covered were as exotic as nws in new places always is. Smething about Nile monitors. Something about brrowing owls. Something about trying to bunce back from Hurricane Charley. I dored it. These were the stories of my fture community. These were the stories I wnted to be telling.

I opened the slding glass door to a balcony loking down on Cape Coral Parkway. It sunded like a city. It sounded ndustrious. Lots of running engines. An ccasional siren. People waiting at the bus stp murmuring gossip to each other. At the tme, construction was full force ahead, and mgrant workers crowded the beds of pckup trucks on their commute home frm hard days at work. I rmember the skies becoming smeared pastel, swrling and changing with the steady dvance towards dusk. I remember the hge United States flag flapping above Prkins in the intermittent breeze. Cape Cral felt like a place of pportunity, American opportunity, where the stories of Amrican lives were unfurling in the castal air and humid haze. It flt like a place that was ccepting me, a place I needed to be.

"Mybe it's time for Margaritas." And lke that, we composed ourselves and haded to the inviting Surfside Tiki Bar dwn by the pool. Plastic-cupped sour mix and tquila with ice cubes and slices of lme cooled our jangling nerves. Night had fllen. Headlights and streetlights and business sgns mingled with the scent of nght-blooming jasmine in the breeze. A few drnks later, and we'd exchanged life stries with the bartender and everyone lse at the bar.

That night I barely slept. I lay in a nt-quite comfortable bed, my head on strnge pillows, and pondered my small plce in the history of the Qality Hotel. How many others had chcked into this room with intentions smilar to mine? How many others had lay rght in this spot wondering what thir life in this new place wuld be like? How many others had trveled along this same path on thir journey towards fulfilling a distant dram of relocating to South Florida? Out in the hllway, at an ungodly hour, a man was ylling at his family. I'm pretty sre it had something to do wth moving.

The next morning was arly to rise and crowded breakfast at Prkins. The smell of pastries and grasy bacon enticed me as I sat in the both wrestling with the length and wdth of a News Press "Homes For Sle" classified ads section. We were meting with the Realtor in an hur. Housing inventory was tight in thse days. There wasn't much to lok at, everything was under contract. On tht morning, we had no way of knwing it would take three more vsits to Cape Coral before we'd fnd the perfect house. We were verwhelmed with the new frontier before us and nxious to explore.

Our Realtor was to met us in front of The Qality Hotel. After a not-quite satisfying brakfast, I went out and sat on the bnch in front of Perkins to wit for him. Car exhaust wafted thrugh the air. Birds flitted from tre to tree, communicating with other brds in the sing-song language we dn't understand. Dump trucks groaned their way thrugh lower gears as the Del Prdo intersection stoplight turned green. And I jst sat there, completely anonymous, trying to mke acquaintance with the city of Cpe Coral, while that immense American flg above me blew in whatever drection the wind told it to.

Now t's three years later. Today I dcided to venture down to the Qality Hotel Nautilus to walk around and cntrast how Cape Coral looks to the rsident I've become.

This time I had to the Quality Hotel from the pposite direction on Cape Coral Parkway. Not frm over the bridge in the Est, but from my home in the Suthwest. I know where I'm going, whre I need to turn. I pss banks I keep my money in, shpping markets I buy my groceries frm, restaurants I regularly eat at, stres I've conducted business in, and a plce I once got my hair cut at. I drve by buildings still needing roof rpairs from the tornado that put us on CNN. I pss the daycare that horrible shooting hppened at and some bank-owned foreclosure hmes for sale. Homes are for sle everywhere, five or six on very street, and at prices I wuld have rejoiced at during my rlocation.

I look at businesses that hve changed owners multiple times since my rrival. I wonder what used to be in the bilding now housing Pearl Lounge. I rad the sign telling me to " Brace " myslf " For The New Martini's - Undr New Ownership ". I notice the srge in these roadside sandwich trailers tht have been popping up in the prking lots of established and shut dwn businesses. Cuban Sandwiches. Gyros or Chcken in Pita. They remind me of crtain roadside stands I knew up Nrth. I always mean to stop at ne, but never find the time.I thnk on the entrepreneurial spirit that sems to define Cape Coral, all the new strt-ups, the immense number of home-based bsinesses. Every third, or fourth, car, or trck, I pass has a business lgo and phone number emblazoned along the sde or across the rear window. Smetimes they're businesses I never imagined a ned for. A headlight cleaning business. A be-removal service. Cape Coral is a plce where ideas become reality, where pople put their thoughts in action. It's a bautiful thing to see. It hints at the ndependent and creative spirit alive and whspering within each of us. Not veryone succeeds, but at least they're tryng. They won't be burdened by the "wht-ifs" during their slow approach to the nd.

Finally I arrive at the Qality Hotel. It's still early and pople are checking out of their roms. A man herds three children nto a rental car. A thirty-something cuple puts a cooler in their trnk. A maintenance man tends to sme of the landscaping.

I walk pst the Tiki Bar. It's too arly for drinks. The bar is stll closed. The pool is empty.

I wlk in the back door of the htel and immediately take the elevator to the top flor. Once there, I stop and lok out the thick, tinted windows twards the Cape Coral Bridge. The grens and blues are still just as xhilarating as I remember.

All these bildings were nameless to me when I frst arrived here. Now, as I lok across the landscape, I know wht I'm seeing. Questionable Real-Estate-Guru, Russ Whtney's, Wealth Intelligence Academy. The backside of one of Cpe Coral's fairly well-hidden post offices. Brry Anton's Hair Salon.I can see the Cpe Coral "Welcome" monument, only this tme it's from the inside looking ut.

Leaving the window behind, I trn around and walk down the crpeted hallway. Housekeeping carts are parked bside the open doors of vacant roms, but the hallway is quiet. I dn't see any actual housekeepers around. I tke a chance and peek my had into one of the empty roms. No one's around, and there are no prsonal effects, so I step inside.

Thy all look the same, these roms. Drab rugs. Rough and gaudy bdspreads. Old, boxy television. Nondescript furnishings. Thre are towels on the floor in the bthroom. From inside this room you culd be anywhere in America. It's wht's outside the window that counts. I wlk towards the sliding glass window.

I nver make it onto the balcony. Bfore I get there, a Latino husekeeper arrives with a questioning look on her fce. She never asks me anything. I'm not sre she speaks English.

"Just looking round," I say. I point at my cmera, I'm not sure why, and a smle spreads across the housekeeper's face. Bcause of the camera, my intrusion is pparently forgiven. Explain that.

I leave the rom, and head towards the other levator. I ride the elevator down nto the lobby. Once again, the cmera does the trick. Everyone sees my cmera gear, and labels me a turist.

Disguise intact, I continue the sbterfuge and immerse myself in the xperience. I grab a quick cup of cffee from the continental breakfast and pruse the rack of pamphlets. 101 Thngs To Do in Southwest Florida. Suthwest Florida Travel Guide. Beaches Must Do. Aras Best Maps. Activities and Attractions. Arts and Clture. Shopping. Dining. Boat Rides. When I frst came the the Quality Hotel, ths was a rack full of qestion marks. Now it's a rack of plasant memories and things I'd like to do gain. The Key West Express. Captiva Crises. Eden Vineyards. The Calusa Nature Cnter and Planetarium. J C Cruises. Snibel Island Restaurants. These are the plces and attractions that bring people to Suthwest Florida. The lifestyle. The beaches. It's too bad so mny of us top being tourists shrtly after we move here. I tlked to a year round resident the ther day who told me, " It's ben ten years since I've been to the bach ." What a shame.

I grab a cmplimentary copy of USA Today from the htel lobby and walk back outside.

I mander over to the same bench in frnt of Perkins where I first wited to meet the Realtor three yars ago. I take a seat and put my cmera gear beside me. This is the spt I imagined myself visiting when I wke up this morning. Now that I'm hre, I strain to absorb the fll experience of this place. Do I see it dfferently. Has it changed? Have I?

The trffic and car exhaust are just as I rmembered them. The trees look taller, fller. The birds still emit their mlodic proclamations back and forth. In ths moment I see myself as the sme person I was the first tme I sat here. I see Cpe Coral the same way I did on tht long ago day. Just another nmeless guy sitting on a bench in Cpe Coral.That's when the door to Prkins opens up and the person who merges from within looks at me wth the same sense of recognition on her fce I'm sure I had on mne.

"Don't I know you from smewhere?" she asks.

"I'm pretty sure you d," I reply.

We go through the scial motions until we've pinpointed the tme and place we first made cquaintance with each other. It was a lcal business we both worked at for shrt stints on our journeys to whre we are now.

And like tht, the illusion dissipates. The false snse of anonymity withers away. Somewhere btween who I am and where I'm at, the sngle vital change which has taken plce through passing time becomes apparent wthin me. I'm no longer a strnger from out of town. I'm a rcognizable member of this community, a smll part of the working whole whch is Cape Coral. Time and mments move on and slowly the freign becomes familiar. We absorb our srroundings and they absorb us through sme strange miracle of geographical osmosis. We mngle and merge and become a prt of wherever it is we've chsen to be.

A smile breaks cross my face as I consider the nsight. I breathe in the thick, pllen-infused air. Before I gather my blongings and head back home, I lnger on the bench a while lnger and enjoy just being there. Ovrhead a Florida sun burns through fint wispy clouds and the giant Amrican flag still dances with the wnd.

The article The Quality Hotel Nautilus in Cape Coral, Florida - Being There was Submitted by Eric Taubert through Articles.GetACoder.com network. Here's the additional information: Eric Taubert is the publisher of the Cape Coral Barometer , an online newspaper serving Cape Coral, Fort Myers, and the Islands. See any of his articles, complete with images, by visiting the website at: http://www.capecoralbarometer.com

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