Lingering Miami

I'm in my last weekend in Miami, my last stretch in the race to get out of here. In the last few weeks I have been oh so determined to cross the few things off my list that I wanted to do or see before I left. Miami and South Florida aren't lacking for things to do, it's just that they're not always that easy to get around to doing when tropical storms and work threaten, looming over you.

I had my late nights in South Beach until 4am, interesting in that I've basically gone as straight edge as I can or want to: no caffeine, one drink only when I go out. It never gets old to watch people get drunk, though. We went to Ted's Hideaway, The Room, and the Shore Club, so dark that I had to lead my nightblind friend around so that I could tell her who we were talking to. Entertaining, though, in that people kept falling in the pool.



I had my last lay outs on the beach which really is lovely. Reid came to visit again and we tried to go snorkeling in Key Largo and got rained out. Instead we headed for Alabama Jack's--a place on the edge of a mangrove swamp in the Everglades.



We went to the actual Everglades, to try to catch a glimpse of an alligator, where instead we saw a lot of rain (the curse follows me!), some weird seaweed, and all of the inside of the guide center, where the guide told us a story about a pet python that was released in the Everglades and, not having experience with predators, swallowed a 5 foot alligator. Once inside, the alligator opened its jaws. Both died. Crazy snake.

The sky on our way in to the Everglades:



Embracing the curse as the rain pours down:



After the Everglades we stopped at an apparently famous fruit stand called Robert is Here. In the back they had goats, donkeys, turkeys, chickens, ducks, and more all living somewhat harmoniously. Expect the goat who was butting his head against the wall. I feel you.





One day was sunny and we headed to South Beach and found the famous Nikki Beach, a Miami scene if ever there was one. The middle of the day, a DJ blasting music, lounging mattresses everywhere, and even a stiltwalker.



I showed Reid Old Coconut Grove, one of my favorite finds (besides a great Cuban restaurant called Las Culebrinas). New Coconut Grove, where I'm staying and working, is a mishmash tourist attraction of vomit-smelling bars, chain stores and restaurants, and random buskers. Old Coconut Grove is a bohemian enclave which was at its height in the 70s, now just a relaxed old-hippie neighborhood with narrow streets full of tropical foliage and wildly striking trees with roots that hang down all over, and small cozy-looking colorful and sometimes sparkly houses and people where this wannabe-Bohemian feels right at home. No tourist attractions or commerce there. Just a sense of the rightness in that the locals embraced the tropical green rather than mowing it down as everywhere else in Miami. A true sense of place and of harmony.





Okay, I'm just a hippie at heart, but this nomadic bohemian is on her way to the heart of hippieland when I move to Boulder, Colorado on Tuesday. I've enjoyed the pseudo-tropical feel, but will not miss Miami. Hello, Boulder, hello mountains, hello altitude and healthy living, here I come.

I fired a cannon, hee hee

Question -- What induces more giddiness: firing a small cannon over and over, or riding a small tractor? I've had the pleasure of testing both and have come to a firm decision. CANNON wins by a landslide. Though tractor riding ain't too bad.

Welcome to Texas! Land of the free! Home of the neighbors who fire their own cannons back at you!

Yes, we fired the cannon a few times, both blasts and projectile explosives, and then the next door neighbor fired back at us. Yay, Texas!

The cannon's scale can be measured by the glimpse of the foot in the frame.

I heart the cannon. Okay, I also heart the tractor.



I went to Texas for the fourth of July weekend and am now sure that I am cursed. It hasn't rained all summer in Texas, except of course the days I was there. The cannon pic is from the day I left. I have left San Francisco to escape the evil evil summers of teasing and fleeting moments of warmth followed by weeks of chilling fog and have been haunted by pouring rain in every other part of the country, from Florida to Texas to Colorado.

A good time was still had, of course, even in the rain. I met Reid halfway through the country, in San Antonio, and he showed me the times on the town, from the outdoor Mexican market, to the bars, to the best grocery store ever, HEB, to the Comal River, where medium-sized fish and regular-sized beer cans swim beneath you (I'm kidding, Reid, it was great), and a chute in the middle of the river takes you for a swirling bumping ride, to the simple Texan pleasures of grilling, firing a cannon, riding a tractor, swimming, and ringmaster. Ringmaster is an addictive game where you swing a ring attached to a tree by a rope and try to latch it on a hook on the tree in so many swings around.

I liked San Antonio and I want to go back.

Reid at the source of the Comal River


Mexican Market


Deer everywhere


Where else can you find huge aloe vera leaves and peppers of all the colors of the rainbow in the regular grocery store?



I flew out of Florida in daylight for the first time, and saw the Everglades, dark and watery below. I have two more weeks in Miami and I will get out there no matter what. The lines through the bottom of the photo are the main road through the park, I believe. I hear that high mesh fences line the road to keep the alligators off. I will go.



The following weekend I went to Boulder, Colorado, to find my new home. It was pretty and Berkeleyx100, and interesting. I found a place I'm happy about and can't wait to move out there. Sunday morning I went to breakfast with another relocator at Lucille's, the best damn creole breakfast ever, in a cute house to boot. I proclaim that it shall henceforth be a Sunday tradition, and the destination for all out of town guests.