A FLORIDA
SOJOURN
The train
line from New Orleans to Miami is out of service and no decision has yet been
made to rebuild it, so I had to once again take a deep breath and board a
Greyhound bus for Miami.
The bus
station in New Orleans was hosting a motley collection of local men taking
advantage of the television showing a Super Bowl semi-final.
Other than
that there was the usual collection of junk-food outlets, a tired “souvenir”
shop which probably seldom saw a customer, and the curious but usual line of
people guarding their place in the bus queue for well over an hour before the
departure time, rather than sitting and relaxing. For an extra $5 it was also
possible to by-pass this line and purchase “priority boarding”, a questionable
concept at the best of times.
The bus was
crowded and uncomfortable and the journey long and uninteresting.
It also
became increasingly claustrophobic – no more than usual inside the bus, but
rather the view on the outside – it soon became clear that Florida was basically
one long and overcrowded highway, and it seemed we were being sucked
relentlessly into its belly.
The
greyhound makes two stops in Miami: the first, a deserted office on the
perimeter of the city and the second a small building across the highway from
the airport. I chose the latter because it seemed somewhat more user-friendly,
and managed to grab a taxi to take me to South Beach, which turned out to be a
$40 journey.
Of all the
money-grubbing people in the US, taxi drivers seem to be the worst – they turn
off the meters whenever they can, or hide them under a paper flap so that they
can charge a “whichever is greater” fare, add questionable charges for baggage
(even when they say their trunks are full, refuse to budge from their seats,
and require you to stow and un-stow your bags yourself), and refuse to give you
change unless you demand it. It often seems better to negotiate a flat rate
before you start your journey.
South Beach
itself is quite interesting – some good Cuban and Mexican restaurants, blocks
of art deco hotels and apartment buildings and a (largely man-made I learnt)
wide white-sand beach. What spoils it however is the brazen soliciting by
prostitutes on the main strips and the many “no-go” zones. The one hostel is
also sub-standard, and some of the otherwise reasonable hotels seemingly can’t
resist renting rooms by the hour.
On my
second day I booked a tour to Key West, anticipating a string of sandy atolls
with Caribbean-influenced restaurants and swimming and snorkelling off the
beaches. I was to be disappointed – the keys are so built up that they are
nothing more than a continuation of what had come before. The famous Highway 1
is no more than that: a straight road bordered by junkfood outlets and every
imaginable attempt to grab the tourist dollar. The beaches too are pretty much
non-existent. Marlin fishing seems to be the mainstay of the first few islets.
The highway
tantalisingly bisects a section of the Everglades and the bridges linking the keys are
interesting, particularly when they are put in context by visiting the Key West
museum.
It was not
until we reached the very end of Key West, with its colonial buildings and
gardens, its sense of history and quirkiness, that the journey seemed
worthwhile. Hemingway’s house may now be overrun with the descendents of his
famous six-toed cats, and the beacon marking the “most southern point of the
US” may be in the wrong place, but it all adds to the unique charm of the
place. There are decent cafes and restaurants, bars trading on their links to
famous and infamous past patrons and art and craft galleries. Some of the
lovely old homes are now boutique hotels.
There are
no beaches here, and so no pleasant swimming – snorkelling takes place offshore
from a boat.
The
waterfront has a worthwhile little market that springs up at sunset, with
buskers and a spectacular view of sailing ships against the golden sky.
However, unless
your idea of a holiday is shopping, eating and more shopping, or you are
particularly interested in bridges, spend the day in the Everglades instead: I
met (a day too late!) three young German travellers who had rented kayaks and
spent the day paddling through this iconic area, sighting many alligators,
birds and fascinating flora and loving every adventurous minute of it – much
more my style!
