wandering through biloxi: salty air, fried oysters, and one too many porch swings

so here i am, sitting on a creaky porch swing somewhere in biloxi, mississippi, trying to make sense of the last 48 hours. the air smells like salt and fried oysters and something vaguely like sunscreen that's been baking in a hot car for too long. i just checked and it's 20.79°c there right now, hope you like that kind of thing. not too hot, not too cold-just enough to make you want to sit outside and drink something cold while watching the world go by.

i came here on a whim. no plan, no itinerary, just a vague idea that i needed to see the gulf coast before summer hit full force. biloxi is one of those places that feels like it's always on the edge of something-between the past and the present, between the water and the land, between "let's stay forever" and "let's get out of here before the next hurricane."

*the lighthouse was my first stop. i heard that the views from the top are worth the climb, but honestly, i chickened out halfway up. heights aren't my thing, and the narrow spiral staircase felt like it was judging me. instead, i wandered the grounds and took a bunch of photos of the pelicans that seem to own the place. they're like the local mafia-you don't mess with them, and they don't mess with you.

lunch was at the half shell oyster house. someone told me that their po'boys are the best in town, and i'm inclined to believe it. the bread was crusty, the shrimp was crispy, and the sauce had just enough kick to make me sweat a little. i also overheard a table of locals talking about the best spots to catch a sunset, which led me to biloxi beach. it's not the most glamorous beach i've ever seen, but there's something charming about the way the sand squeaks under your feet and the way the waves crash against the pier like they're trying to tell you a secret.

if you get bored, gulfport and ocean springs are just a short drive away. gulfport has this weird energy-part beach town, part industrial port-and ocean springs feels like a tiny art colony that accidentally got dropped into the middle of the south. both are worth a visit if you've got the time.

i spent the evening wandering through the biloxi shrimping trip, which is exactly what it sounds like: a boat ride where they actually shrimp. it was oddly meditative, watching the nets go in and out of the water, and the captain was full of stories about the gulf and its creatures. i learned more about shrimp than i ever thought i'd need to know, and i'm not mad about it.

back on land, i found myself at the mockingbird cafe*, a tiny spot with mismatched furniture and a chalkboard menu that changes daily. i had a latte that was so good it made me question every other latte i've ever had. the barista told me they roast their own beans, and i believe her because the coffee tasted like it had a backstory.

i'm staying in a little airbnb near the beach, and the host left a note saying, "if you hear the ocean at night, that's normal." i didn't believe her until i crawled into bed and realized i could hear the waves from my window. it's the kind of sound that makes you feel like you're sleeping in a seashell, and i'm not complaining.

biloxi isn't perfect. it's got its share of abandoned buildings and tourist traps, but it's also got soul. it's the kind of place that doesn't try too hard, and that's exactly why i like it. i'll probably be back-maybe next time i'll make it to the top of that lighthouse.