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.
