Boiled P-nuts

We had a fabulous time in Florida, thanks to the hospitality of Susi Westfall and her team at CityWrights, to Len and Rita in Boca and Carrie and Carlos in Anna Maria. I'm excited to have finally made it to Summer Shorts, which has welcomed my plays for two years now, as well as to have swam in the Gulf of Mexico and ridden on a wave runner -- all firsts for me, and all memorable moments.

Sadly, our time in Florida ended on Tuesday, when we began the inevitable trek westward once again. As you can see from our map (yes, we still use a paper atlas, as well as Siri and our cell phones), we drove to Miami on the east coast and back north on the west coast, traveling as far as Tifton, Georgia, before heading west into Alabama. But we didn't leave Georgia without partaking in the fine southern tradition of boiled peanuts at Mark's Farm Stand. Of course, local peaches, tomatoes, corn, melons, honey, Americana and mosquitoes were also in abundant supply.

Yes, boiled peanuts looks like roaches, but they taste like edamame -- they're boiled in a salty, vinegary brine that softens them and confirms their identity as a legume, not a nut.

Georgia peaches are indeed sweet and yummy.

We drove to Montgomery on the Jefferson Davis Highway while listening to NPR on the 50th anniversary of LBJ's signing of the Civil Rights Act. As we passed through many towns that still felt segregated by economics, we couldn't help but ponder how far we still have to go to create a nation where all men and women are created and treated as equals.

Wednesday evening took us from Montgomery to Tuscaloosa, where Justin and Katie are living. We fought hell in the form of lightening and thunder and high water to get there, driving straight into yet another massive storm cell. It was so bad we had to pull over at a gas station to wait it out. But when a power outage thrust the station into pitch black darkness, we hit the road again. It was a treacherous and scary journey, but we obviously made it. Seeing Justin and Katie was a great reward the next morning. 

We left Tuscaloosa on Thursday and drove to Tupelo and then to Memphis, where we crossed the Mississippi River.

We saw five state lines in one day today: Alabama, Mississippi, Tennessee, Arkansas and Missouri -- all beautiful, yet all different, from flat farmland to the rolling hills of the southern Ozarks. We've also met some really nice people, like Bill Mears, the collision mechanic from Harrison, Arkansas, one of the many folks who have stopped by to look at the teardrop. 

Tonight, we're sleeping in a Walmart parking lot in southern Missouri. Life, it seems, can be very beautiful here on the eve of Independence Day in the heartland.

Paradise on the Gulf

We're in love with Anna Maria Island. Check out these postcard perfect pix.

Ringling Estate and Museum

I've always loved the spectacle of the circus, so we couldn't pass by Sarasota, Florida, without a visit to the former estate of John Ringling, one of the founders of the Ringling Brothers Circus, which made its winter home in Sarasota. Ringling and his wife, Mable, had no children, so when he died in 1936, he willed their palatial Sarasota home and extensive European art collection to the state. The Ringling also houses a terrific museum that documents the history of the circus.

The Ringlings purchased 20 acres on the Gulf in 1911, and from that point forward, they considered the small town of Sarasota their home. At one point, the family owned 25 percent of all the land in the area, which they hoped to develop into a world-class resort, similar to those they loved on the Mediterranean.

Mable Ringling designed their home, named Ca' d'Azan (House of John) in the Venetian Gothic style. Construction of the 36,000 sf, 41-room mansion began in 1924 and took two years at a cost of $1.5 million. The home is furnished with the most opulent antiques you can imagine.

And the lush gardens are filled with Italian sculpture.

The 21-gallery Ringling Art Museum houses hundreds if not thousands of works by the Old Masters.

The mansion and art collection are juxtaposed with the more lowbrow collection of circus memorabilia, including a clown car that I tested for fit.

At least our teardrop trailer is a little more spacious.

Alligator Alley

Heading west again to Florida's Gulf Coast, across the Everglades. More stormy skies.

Visiting Family

Florida is home to a bunch of Simons. 

John and I with Rita, Floyd and Lenny in Boca Raton.

With Carrie in Holmes Beach. 

And later, celebrating our fabulous visit to Anna Maria Island with Carrie and Carlos. 

Thanks for a really fun time!

Searching for Old Miami

As you can see, the view from our executive suite of Biscayne Bay and Miami Harbor is spectacular - but it's not the Miami of my imagination and dreams. I had dreamed of men in old white fedoras, the smell of cuban rolled cigars, pastel painted art deco hotels on white sand beaches. From our hotel window, Miami is more pre-apocalypse Metropolis. The spires of the super rich cast shadows on the many poor and homeless of Miami.

View of Biscayne Bay and Miami Harbor from where I write

Homeless camp 50 yards from our hotel under the Brickell Avenue Bridge

So while Lauren attends the conference, I've been out searching for old Miami.

I didn't have to go far. Just below our hotel window was an ancient Tequesta Indian village site. I noticed some folks digging with hand tools in a huge empty lot and learned that a 600 million dollar development project had been halted as archeologists found a 2000-year-old Tequesta Indian Village with unique post-hole hut structures. The Tequesta Indians were likely living here when Ponce de León showed up in 1513. Much older than I was looking for but it was refreshing to think about this piece of land before the skyscrapers.

Tequest Indian Village site about to be covered by another big building

A Haitian taxi driver suggested I would find a piece of old Miami at South Beach - also called SoBe - a strip party beach made up of the barrier reef islands off Miami proper.  So with shorts and sunglasses, I set out first to check out the beach. I wanted to put my feet in the Atlantic just to celebrate having started this journey on the Pacific.      

I found this great old life guard tower and lots of people sunning and swimming in the warm Atlantic

 The beach was hot and muggy -- so needing some refreshment I headed over to Ocean Avenue and found plenty of old.  A bunch of great old art deco hotels from the 1930s.  Had a beer and lunch at the Carlyle where the people-watching rivaled Venice Beach in Southern California.

The Carlyle Hotel 

Old Miami Cars in South Beach

After South Beach I went looking for Old Miami in downtown.  Lauren was busy for the evening so I went looking for a local joint. I found the oldest bar in Miami called Tobacco Road. Its been here 102 years and has managed to serve the good stuff continuously (even through prohibition). It's a real dive where the locals hang out, the food is good, local blues bands play and people are friendly and talkative. My kind of spot. The bartender sports a shirt that says - "we got lots of problems but staying open late isn't one of them." Tobacco Road stays open till 5am. The sad part is the land the bar sits on has been sold to a developer and within 36 months this old dive will be gone. Another skyscraper.   

Miami's Oldest bar at 626 S Miami Ave

Fortunately I did not stay out till 5am so was able to head out for more old Miami the next day.  From Downtown I walked several miles west along Calle Ocho to Little Havana.  I wanted to get some hand rolled cigars, eat some Cuban food and see what's left of this Cuban enclave.  The walk took me through some run down neighborhoods but I found lots of great murals and building art. 

I was surprised to come across a memorial to the infamous Bay of Pigs event. We rarely think about the people who actually picked up weapons and went on this ill-fated mission.  Leaving aside the politics and the CIA's mistakes, a lot of young men of the 2506th Brigade died in that event.  

The Bay of Pigs Monument at 13th Avenue and Calle Ocho

  

I went looking for the old Cuban cigar factories where old guys hand role stogies, but no luck. No one was rolling cigars when I was there.  But I did find a good Cuban shop and got some good smelling cigars. 

Little Havana Cigar Shop 1501 Calle Ocho

I had lunch at local Cuban dive called El Pub where the locals were watching the world cup, the waitress was bossy and the cuban food was great.  I had arroz con pollo and sopa de Platanos Maduros -which is yellow rice with chicken, fried plantains and ripe banana soup. 

Too much food but very good

Bossy waitress

After lunch I visited the CubaOcho Art Center that was largely empty of people but filled with decor and art of what old Miami use to be.  

CubaOcho Art and Research Center at 1465 Calle Ocho

All in all this was a great journey into old Miami and even though the downtown streets are filled with kids driving BMWs, there are still hints of the way things use to be. But for now I've had enough of the city and am looking forward to getting back into the trailer and hitting the back roads as we head north and west. Sometimes there is somewhere to go that's not east.    

   

Miami

After more than 3,000 miles, we've arrived at the other coast, and our room, 30 floors above downtown Miami, overlooks Biscayne Bay and the Atlantic Ocean.

Maybe because we looked so haggard, or because we'd come so far, the hotel extended us an upgrade, so we have an Executive Suite, which means a gigantic corner room and top flight amenities. We're feeling pretty swanky as we settle in here for the weekend.

To celebrate our arrival, lunch at a posh Peruvian place. With Peruvian beer, of course.

Sweet rewards after a long journey. And the irony of it all, now there's nowhere to go but west. :)

Signs of the South

(A note to Claire and Jean: As you can see here, God provides a bounty of food for Southerners.)