EnglandTwinehamHickstead50°57’51” N 0°11’39” W May 17 in England ⋅ ☁️ 19 °C
Day 16 - Home. Reflections…
15:30
The dinner service is blissfully rapid, and an hour into the flight, I’m donning my headphones and eye-mask to catch some snooze. I sleep for a shade under 5 hours, which is a decent result. I’m in a Premium Economy seat, and the extra legroom makes such a difference to my sleeping chances.
We’re actually early landing into Heathrow. The Atlantic jet stream has helped us along, without some of the crazy turbulence I’ve experienced in the past on flights back from the US. We pull up to a remote stand at 13:45. Getting through T3 is a breeze. There’s zero queue at passport control, and my bags are already on the carousel when I get into baggage reclaim. I meet Andy at 14:10, and we’re on the road moments later.
A few reflections on my time in the US…
1) I adore road trips. Some of the journey times would, I suspect, have been more than Vicki would have wanted to bear, but I was quite comfortable spending 7 hours in the car on some days. My decision largely to avoid interstates was a good one, and I got to see so much more of the states through which I travelled than I would have done on the freeway.
2) Southern hospitality is a thing. Everywhere I travelled in the South I was greeted with open arms - figuratively (and literally on one occasion). All of the folks I met were kind, warm-hearted and welcoming.
It’s very easy to eat well across the US. It’s easy to eat badly, if that’s your thing, but the quality of food in diners, bars and restaurants is brilliantly high.
3) Prices in those places vary massively. The cheapest diner breakfast (eggs, toast, hash browns) I ate was around $6. The most expensive around $16.
4) I am declaring a volte face on Florida. My preconceptions of the state have largely been based on theme parks vacation spots around Orlando, and the questionable politics of the state’s Governor. Miami is a brilliant city, and I can’t wait to go back. The Everglades are a stunningly beautiful ecosystem, the Keys are wonderful, and I even enjoyed the slightly hicksville ambience of Polk County…
5) At no point did I feel unsafe, I suspect in part because my route avoided major cities (Nashville and Miami aside).
6),Getting your Sativa and Indica vapes mixed up is not aa great idea.
That’s all for now. Thanks for reading. I’ll be back in 3 weeks for some more Thailand, a dollop of Cambodia, and just a little pinch of Singapore.Read more
May 16 in the United States ⋅ ☀️ 30 °C
20:30
I wake up after a good sleep, but with a slightly groggy head. I challenged myself to empty the fridge before bed, which meant the last beer, and a couple of glasses of wine. I pack for the final time - which means actually getting stuff into my suitcase. One of the things I most enjoy about road trips is having a car in which to dump carrier bags and the like, rather than having to fully pack my suitcase each and every time I’m moving on. I’ve had a black rubbish sack for dirty clothes, a green fabric shopping bag from Sri Lanka for clothes that are worn, but out of which I can probably eke at least one more wear, and a blue Whole Foods bag from Las Vegas that has been the carrier of my booze’n’food along the way. Not this time - everything’s got to go back into my hold luggage. It’s a bit of a squeeze, but goes in happily enough.
I’m still not really sure what to do with myself today. I’m erring on the side of heading up to Miami in good time, dumping the car and my bags, then heading into the city for some beers and food. First, I head further along the northern Keys, stopping at a beautiful little state park named for John Pennekamp. No? Me neither. It’s very pretty though, and I spend a relaxing half hour wandering around the coast line. I try to get to Angelfish Cay, to take a picture of it for Karin, but am denied by a closed road. I stop for a late breakfast at a very cool little café called The Hide Out, and then get on the road North for Miami.
I’ve been assiduously avoiding tolls while I’ve been in the US - not a cost management strategy, but because I’ve been genuinely unsure how to pay for the toll roads, in a world of automated / electronic gates. I decide to finally read the materials I was given when renting the car, and it turns out there’s a very simple way - there’s a transponder on the windscreen, which I basically need to, well - turn on. This cuts my journey time to Miami in half. My flight isn’t until 23:30 tonight, so I’ve got a bunch of time to kill.
Approaching the city, I see signs for an Outlet Mall, which includes a Columbia store. For those unfamiliar, Columbia is an outdoors / activewear brand - think North Face, and you’re not a million miles away. I’ve been on the lookout for some ultra light/quick dry shorts and zip-off trousers for a while now, and if the prices are decent, this could be a godsend. I’m not 100% convinced I have room in my luggage, but let’s worry about that later. The discounts are immense. A pair of Columbia convertible trousers in the UK would cost me close to £100. Here, I pick up 3 pairs for $30 each. Their lightweight shorts would be £60 at home. Here, $20 per pair. I walk out with close to £500 worth of clothes for £140. I then buy a small duffel bag to pack them in, and I’m still ahead by £300.
Pleased with my endeavour - because it’s saved me a ton of cash, and because it’s consumed an hour of my boring waiting time, I reward myself with a visit to ‘World of Beer’ a sports bar a few miles from the airport. I have a pint of Voodoo Ranger, and some loaded tots.
I arrive at the car hire return garage at 15:00. During my stop at WOB (that’s what they call themselves) I’ve realised there’s a Virgin flight leaving at 18:45. Now - bear with me for a moment. When I originally booked my flights to Dulles / out of Miami, my return flight departed at 19:00, arriving into Heathrow around 09:00 on Friday morning. Months back, I got an email from Virgin saying my flight had been changed, and was now a 23:35 departure. Meh, but ok. these things happen. I now find that there’s a flight leaving at almost exactly the same time as my original booking, which I’d much rather have been on. All my flights on this trip are freebies, so I shouldn’t complain *too* loudly, but I’m at least going to head to the ticket office / check-in desk, and see if there’s a chance I can get on the earlier flight.
Nope. No chance. The 18:45 flight is actually over-booked, so zero possibility of me blagging my way onto it. The check-in attendant says my later flight is very close to full. It’s clearly a busy route for Virgin. She does, however, offer to check-in my bags, even though my flight’s not for 8 hours. I accept - somewhat foolishly as it turns out, as I check in the duffel bag with my new purchases, which ALSO has my hoodie, and trouser legs. Hopefully, the plane won’t be too cold.
So - I’ve got 7 hours at Miami airport, a decent whack of funds, and a small notion that I shouldn’t just sit in a bar (many bars) and get hammered. My first port of call is a bar - this does not bode well. They have a beer called Dogfish Head 90. I’ve got previous with this beer. When I went to California for a work conference in 2015, it’s the beer that I thought lovely, until I’d had 7 of them. Then, when going to leave, I fell off my chair. Only in hindsight did I discover that the ’90’ refers to the ABV, which is 9%. Ever since, I’ve considered that the 90 stands for how many minutes it takes to get you broadly pissed. It was a very strange day. The conference was at Disneyland in Anaheim. Stumbling around like the pissed idiot I was, I bumped into Goofy, and then Minnie Mouse. They were all very kind. I was also gifted my beers by a lovely couple from Minnesota, who had joined me, sitting at the bar. When I told them it was my birthday (which it really was), they secretly paid my drinks bill. That was around 15:00 on the Sunday afternoon. I went back to my room for a ‘rest’ and woke up at 07:00 on Monday morning, just in time for the conference to start.
Anyhoo… I’m very well behaved, and have just one of these sneaky little buggers, then sit for a while and catch up on some tablet TV. It’s pushing 18:30 now, so decide it’s probably ok to head through security, having confirmed that my plane is inbound, and due to land soon. The security checkpoint promises a 15-19 minute wait. This is pure bullshit. I realise that as soon as I arrive to the queue. There are 3 of the brand new, 3D scanners available - meaning no need to remove shoes, remove liquids, electronics - but the TSA team responsible for processing passengers have only got 1 of them open. As a result, the queue moves incredibly slowly. At one point, a group of 3 ask if they can move in front of me, because their flight departure time is rapidly approaching. I huff and puff, look at my watch - but let’s face it, my plane leaves in 5 hours, so it’s very little skin off my nose. They repeat this process with 5-6 more people, then hit old grumpy bollocks. An elderly gent (75? 80?) vociferously points out that he arrived to the airport in plenty of time, and maybe they should next time too. I struggle to internalise a chortle. The untrepid explorers flag down a TSA womble, who says he can’t help, and it’s really up to the other customers if they’re allowed through or not.
Finally through, I head for the nearest bar/restaurant. It’s 19:30. Time is advancing. I sit down, order a beer, and am immediately told the bar closes at 20:00. WTAF? Checking the airport’s website, it transpires that NONE of their hostelries are open past 22:00. My flight doesn’t even begin boarding until 23:00. I’m going to have to work this out incredibly carefully… This bar has more of the Dogfish Head 90 on tap. I treat myself to a couple, before they sling me out. Ceremoniously - if that’s even a thing.
Near my gate there’s a ‘Corona Beach House’ which is at least open until 22:00. I um and ah - Corona is a long way from my favourite beer, but needs must. I grab a seat at the bar, and - joy! They have a wine list, a cocktail menu, and more of that Dogfish Head 90. I decline the beer - I feel a bit full anyway. Mojito please! Oooh, and then a Stormy Daniels. No, that’s not right. A Dark and Stormy. Yes, that’s more like it.
21:50
More Dark and Stormy please.
22:35
This is one of the things I adore about US airports. I spend a brilliant half hour chatting to… Nope. Can’t remember his name. He’s from Canada, but lives in Miami. He’s on his way home to Toronto, and gives me some great advice about stuff to do in Toronto itself, in Manitoba, in Vancouver when I/we finally get there. We both spend a little while marvelling at the upwards filled pints (see video), which is one of the coolest things I think I’ve ever seen.
He (nameless) has to leave t get his flight. That’s fine. I can keep myself company with my Darks and Stormies. I’m just settling into my book, when the next guy along the guy interrupts me. He’s Walker - a 22 year old who’s on his way to Brazil for a month. He’s that rarity in the US - a youngster who actually want’s to leave the country. I buy him a beer, he buys me a D+S, and we talk about the evils of capitalism. I’m both jealous of his trip, and excited to steal some ideas for my, Vicki and Tam’s trip later this year. I ask him, as I seem incapable of not doing, of his voting intentions in November. He was pissed off not to be old enough last time around. He’s gay, and should feel like a Democrat vote is his only tangible option. I’m concerned to hear that this politically active kid is barely interested in the election, due largely to Biden’s:
1) age
2) senility
3) luke warm position on traditionally Democrat views
If the Dems can’t pick up this kid to vote for them, they might just be fucked.
The bar kicks us out as advertised at 22:00. I hug Walker goodbye, and head round to the departure gate. Hey - at least it’s air-conditioned.
23:55
Boarded, and furnished with my glass of bubbles. I’m determined to sleep for as long as I possibly can. But I’m also hungry, and want some food.
QUANDARIES.Read more
United StatesFloridaMonroe CountyKey LargoPilot House Marina25°5’8” N 80°26’26” W May 15 in the United States ⋅ ☁️ 29 °C
17:00
I’m sad to leave my little enclave in Homestead. It’s such a blissful and chilled out place to spend time. Onwards though, to the Keys. I’d be lying if I said I really knew anything about the Keys, except that it’s where a lot of the South American drugs bound for the US are landed, and there’s a lot of fishing to be done there. I’m up in good time, and on the road by 08:30. I decide to head straight down to Key West, at the very tip of the Keys archipelago, and home to the southernmost point of the continental United States.
The traffic’s a little clunky getting out of Homestead and Florida City, but after a few miles, I’m into an easy, fast cruise. It’s about 150 miles, all the way along the venerable US Highway 1 - the 2,370 mile road that runs the entire length of the eastern seaboard of the US. It’s been my constant companion for the past week, and ends at Key West. There’s nothing standout about the drive, but that doesn’t detract from my enjoyment of it. The Keys are a bustling community, and I spend a great couple of hours watching the world go by as I cruise on by. ‘Towns’ here are really just collections of buildings alongside the highway, intersected by giant road bridges between the islands. I won’t pretend that I’m not slightly entranced by it. Even the Sat Nav keeps me entertained - there's something strangely hypnotic seeing the road on which you're travelling stretch for miles, but with only water on either side of you. Likewise, the view of the road bridges stretching out for miles in front of the car is unfamiliar, but inviting.
Arriving into Key West, I’m both hungry and thirsty. There’s a seafood place called Eaton’s Seafood Market that I’ve read good things about, so head there for some lunch, and a massively needed beer. They deliver on both fronts. I have a crab-cake sandwich, some stellar onion rings, and a quite pokey hazy IPA that gives me just a little bit of a a haze.
Key West is an interesting town. My good friend Jolene has described it as ‘New Orleans but with old people.’ I’ve not been to New Orleans, but somehow understand exactly what she means. I suspect in the height of Summer, and over a weekend, this place is a wild ride. Here and now, before the Summer season really kicks off, it’s a slightly circumspect experience. There are countless golf buggies on the roads, and I've seen several hire shops around the town. I can't believe the DUI rules are any different to driving a standard car or truck, so I'm not entirely sure what the point is. This is what Google's for. *HOLD PLEASE CALLER*
Ah, ok - so it's partly because a lot of the roads in Key West are quite narrow (to which I can attest) and that parking is limited (to which I can also attest), ergo - golf buggies.
I set off to find the southernmost point of the USA, and find…. a queue. There are about 50 people queueing to take a picture next to the monument. I mean - I guess it’s a thing if you’re not from here, but I enjoy taking pictures of the people taking pictures. There are a couple of other places I’d wanted to check out while I was in town, but there are reports of rain-storms coming in later, and I don’t particularly fancy a long drive in the rain, so set off for Key Largo. I meet some rain, but it’s hardly a patch on the torrential experiences I had back in Virginia (which feels like an eon ago, by the way) and by the time I’m arriving into Key Largo, it’s sunshine all the way.
I find my accommodation easily enough, and am pleasantly surprised. I’ve got a large, one bedroom apartment, with a balcony overlooking the marina. It’s lovely. I settle down with a much deserved glass of wine, and take the load off.
21:00
I head out around 18:00, conscious that I’ve not eaten much today, and have limited supplies at my apartment. Bizarrely / irritatingly, the place I want to get to is 20m from my apartment. It is, however, on the other side of the Marina, and there’s no obvious bridge across which to pass. I briefly consider swimming across, but end up walking the long way around, which is c. 20 minutes. It’s still hot, even though the sun is kissing the horizon. I arrive somewhat sweaty, and urgently in need of a beer. The beer is quickly sorted. I’ve no idea what it is, beyond a very pleasant IPA. I order another, and perhaps a third. The menu deserves a peruse, so I indulge it. There’s a cracking sounding grouper special, so I jump in. It’s fab. Grouper is redolent of cod, but with more flavour, and better texture. I very fondly remember having ‘grouper fingers’ in the Bahamas about 35 years ago, which my Dad rechristened groper fingers - obvs. These days they’d be called grouper goujons, and be thrice as expensive. The fourth beer is the one that really hits the spot.
I briefly consider popping to the downstairs bar, where there’s some half decent live music playing, but am conscious that I’m jaded, and rapidly approaching refreshed. I check the IPA details on the way out. It’s an 8.2% whopper. Of course it is. I walk (rather than stumble) back to my apartment, which is deliciously frosty, and grab a beer from the fridge, the last of the six pack I bought on about day 2 of my trip. My only fixed plan tomorrow is to be at Miami Airport by 18:00, and the airport’s only a couple of hours away…Read more
United StatesFloridaCity of Homestead25°28’19” N 80°27’19” W
May 14 in the United States ⋅ ☀️ 30 °C
19:30
I’m awake at 04:45. I was asleep fairly early last night, so it’s no surprise. I feel like I’ve slept well, and have more than enough time for a nap later if the urge takes me. I head out for some breakfast, to a Puerto Rican place. Huevos Rancheros with Tostones and Refried Beans. It’s banging. The tostones are a revelation. They’re made from green plantain, grated, and then fried like a hash-brown. Delicious. The refried beans are also awesome. I think most folks in the UK think of these as bland, stodgy goop. These are anything but. Texture, bite, tons of flavour.
I head North about 30 miles to Coopertown for an airboat ride through the Everglades. It’s only 10:00 when the boat sets off, but the sun is already hot., so much so that I’ve covered myself in SPF50 for the ride. The noise of the airboat is really something. The best way I can describe it is like a hovercraft without the inflatable skirt. We move through the wetlands at close to 50mph, and as low down to the water as we are, it feels every bit of it. Our boat pilot, John, stops occasionally to talk us through this incredible habitat. I’m surprised to learn that the Everglades is neither swamp, nor (strictly speaking) a wetlands, but rather the slowest moving river in the world, flowing at around 1/2 mile per day. It’s a vibrant ecosystem, teeming with wildlife. Alligators are the star attraction, but there are interesting species of fish, birds, turtles and terrapins, otters, bears, panthers… I mean - we see very little of it at 50mph, but we’re assured it’s there…
We do spot a ‘gator during the trip. He’s a big guy, around 4m long. We try not to disturb him, but he turns, and starts swimming towards the boat - right around the time John is telling us that the alligators can climb into the boat if they wish. I involuntarily flinch. The ‘gator decides against it though, and swims away from us. He’s a gnarly looking creature. Certainly wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of him. This will sound weird though. They don’t have *quite* the same evil look as crocodiles. I suspect I’d lose a fight against either, but crocs just look at you like they can see you naked, on a spit-roast, over a BBQ. Alligators look to me to be slightly more benign. The only way I can rationalise this (bear with me, I’ve given this quite a lot of thought) is that alligators’ teeth have evolved to settle into their upper and lower jaws when their mouth is closed. Crocodiles’ teeth have not - they stick out of the mouth when the mouth is closed. I think it’s the lack of overt teeth that makes the alligator seem like the kind of cuddly, misunderstood teddy-bear that I’ve somehow forced myself to believe.
It’s 11:00 by the time I get back on the road, and I head South West to Flamingo, a tiny community at the very southern tip of the main Florida peninsula. The drive through the Everglades is quite hypnotic - long, straight roads, and at one point I don’t see another car for 45 minutes. I stop to walk a couple of short trails along the way. I’m hopeful of seeing some more wildlife, but am cruelly denied. The ecosystem is beautiful to look at, but I’d have liked to have encountered a few more species.
I have a wander around Flamingo, and grab a very decent Cuban sandwich for lunch, along with a much needed beer. The restaurant is part of a new development, with lodging. I suspect (hope) it’s only recently opened, as I’m the only customer when I arrive. An additional 3 people arrive while I’m there. It’s hardly buzzing. Memorial Day weekend is coming up in a couple of weeks, so hopefully they’ve got a bit more business coming their way soon.
My sandwich and beer have left me sleepy. It’s an easy cruise back to my AirBnB, where a nap beckons. I wake up at 17:00 - but only just. I could quite happily have slept on. I decide that a dip in the hot-tub will help wake me up. It does. I briefly consider going out into Homestead, but decide to take it easy this evening. I’ve got beers and wine to finish before I fly home on Thursday, and they won’t drink themselves…Read more
United StatesFloridaCity of Homestead25°28’17” N 80°26’49” W
May 13 in the United States ⋅ ☁️ 33 °C
16:30
I wake up around 08:00, having had a brilliant sleep. Definitely for the best to have a quiet day yesterday. By 09:30, I’m packed, on the road, and heading due West out of Miami. This morning’s drive will fully take me from the Atlantic over to the Gulf of Mexico. The drive is a fast, straight one. I count perhaps 3 slight curves to the road in 2 hours and 120 miles - other than that, arrow straight.
I arrive into Naples, and head South along the coast, arriving into a tiny place called Goodland around midday. It has a bar/restaurant, a bait shop, and that’s about it. I decide my stomach is up to being fed, so park up and head into the bar. A pint of an American Pale Ale (APA) called Reef Donkey to whet my whistle, and a Mahi Mahi sandwich. The beer’s excellent, and the sandwich even better. I’ve had Mahi Mahi before, but it’s never been this good. The fish is blackened with Cajun spices, and hard grilled. It’s delicious - incredibly moist, incredibly tasty. Critically, it ‘settles’ well in my stomach. I spend a fun half hour chatting to some of the bar regulars. I genuinely think this might be a hangout for retired wise guys. There are regular references to ‘Jimmy the Fish,’ who sounds calamitous at best. They also talk about someone called ‘Tough Tony’ who I *think* has recently died. They all sound like they’re from the Bronx, and they’re all getting very excited watching a Yankee game on the TV. Mindful that I might get whacked if I’m not careful, I settle my bill, and scarper.
The drive back East is fairly uneventful. I’m staying in a town called Homestead, about 30 miles South West of Miami, about 90 minutes drive from Goodland. I stop along the way to see what is claimed to be the smallest Post Office in the USA. It’s smaller than the garden shed I had in Crawley, so I can believe this to be true. I stop at the hugely misleading Shark Valley, where there are no sharks. I take a short walk along the the Shark Valley loop, but quickly realise the sun is properly hot. It’s a 15 mile loop, so I suspect I’d not quite make it all the way round before expiring. There’s a tram tour, but not for another 2 hours. I’ll come back tomorrow…
I arrive into Homestead around 15:45. My AirBnB is AWESOME. A really lovely space, and very considerately appointed by the owners. I’d stay here and write more, but the room has a hot-tub, and it’s calling to me… I shall repair there, along with a glass of the fab red wine the hosts have given me. Catch up tomorrow…Read more
United StatesFloridaMiami-DadeSouth Miami BeachSouth Beach25°46’49” N 80°7’44” W May 12 in the United States ⋅ ☀️ 28 °C
21:00
My day starts well. I’m up in decent time, and head out around 08:00, heading to South Beach. The drive over to the beach is pretty spectacular. The road bridges around this part of Florida are wild, spanning, in some cases, miles and miles of roadway right down by the water. This one’s a couple of miles long, and deposits me into the heart of the Bay Harbour Islands. I park up, and find a great diner for breakfast. It’s a proper Airstream trailer place, and has tons of character. The breakfast is awesome as well.
After breakfast, I head for the beach. The sand is such a bright white, and incredibly fine. Vicks sent me a picture of Brighton Beach yesterday, and the difference in underfoot conditions couldn’t be greater. I spot an absolutely pristine 2nd Gen Pontiac Firebird. If you’ve seen Smokey and the Bandit, you’re in the right territory. The Art Deco architecture is beautiful, and the streets are bursting with bars and restaurants. It’s supposed to be quite a sight at night, but I’ll save that for a trip back to Miami with Vicki.
I head back to my apartment to drop off the car, ahead of going to a baseball game. I don’t feel great though. A quick trip to the bathroom (and I do mean quick…) is required, and it appears the brown rains have arrived. Immediately, I put it down to something I’ve eaten, but Vicki sensibly points out that I’ve spent a LOT of time in the sun/heat over the past couple of days, and both days have been quite boozy. Her lucid explanation makes quite a lot of sense. I sack off the baseball game, not feeling quite confident enough to leave the safety blanket of a cold room, and a close toilet. I’d also planned to see Dre, along with his other half, Maria, and his three sons later this afternoon, but decide against this in as:
a) I feel pretty rubbish, and
b) I don’t want to take a chance that I might have picked up a bug along the way
I sleep for a good 3 hours in the afternoon, and wake up feeling, if not better, then at least a little less shocking.
I spend the evening watching movies and chilling out. I’ve been on the road, and pretty manic for the past 10 days, so maybe I just need a slow day, and a bit of a rest.
Around 21:30, I decide to head back to snooze, and hope I’m not awake before dawn…Read more
United StatesFloridaMiami-DadeLittle Havana25°46’7” N 80°13’51” W
May 11 in the United States ⋅ ☀️ 26 °C
23:30
It’s been a long, but fruitful day.
I’m on the road before 08:00, headed East towards the Atlantic coast. I swing by Spook Hill - a gravity hill, that makes it appear that your car is rolling uphill. It’s an optical illusion, but still kinda weird to get your head around.
My first pit-stop is nearly 3 hours down the road, but worth the journey/detour. Morikami is a beautiful Japanese garden, a couple of miles inland from the coast. It’s incredibly serene, and I spend a hugely enjoyable hour or so, just ambling around the different garden sections. I see a giant terrajeff, happily swimming in one of the several lakes. There’s a bonsai exhibition, with some spectacular specimens, some of which are over 100 years old. The sun’s beating down, but there are plenty of shady spots to keep out of it.
I’m only about 50 miles North of Miami, but have another few hours in the car. Traffic is heavy for a Saturday afternoon. I head for Hollywood Beach, just South of Fort Lauderdale, The mercury’s nudging 38C, so instead of walking up and down the sunbaked boardwalk, I stop in a beachfront café for a couple of tacos, and an ultra cold beer. In the space of 5 minutes, I see 3 of the most pneumatically enhanced women I think I’ve ever seen. Honestly - the chest on one of them looks like it must require regular topping up with a bicycle pump.
I continue South, into Miami. The drive into the city centre feels familiar, despite my never having been here. I attribute this to the many TV shows I’ve watched that are based in the city. My AirBnB is in South Miami, in Little Havana. I find it easily enough. The room’s great - part of a Cuban casita. Everything I need, nothing I don’t. I freshen up and head out for a drink. I’m meeting my buddy Dré at 19:00, and figure I should be able to find a decent Mojito to keep me company.
I happen upon a Cuban bar called Guantanamera. Heading inside, I’m a little shocked to encounter thick clouds of cigar smoke. I’d thought/assumed that smoking of any kind indoors would be verboten anywhere in the US. Apparently not. These guys sell cigars - though not Cuban, due to the US’s ongoing trade embargo with Cuba. I’ve never enjoyed smoking cigars, but have always found the smell of the strangely comforting. I order a Mojito , fairly quickly followed by another Mojito. They’re very moreish. A band strikes up, and the tiny dance floor is quickly filled with some very enthusiastic folks throwing groovy shapes.
I meet Dré at Café La Trova, a fab Cuban restaurant in the heart of Little Havana. Over a couple more Mojitos, we catch up, and enjoy some ceviché, salt cod fritters and Cuban style beef sandwiches. Banging. After a quick amble in the cooling evening, we end up back at Guantanamera for more Mojitos. There’s live music, some interesting outfits, cigar smoking, some kind of DJ - it’s all really rather fun. I stop counting the Mojitos at 6, or was it 7?Read more
United StatesFloridaPinellas CountySt. PetersburgHarbordale Park27°46’9” N 82°39’48” W
May 10 in the United States ⋅ 🌙 27 °C
22:30
I wake up after a good sleep, but with a strange, empty feeling. This morning is the memorial service for Micky. Em’s organised a livestream from the cathedral, and whilst I’m glad to be able to join the service, I’m feeling incredibly lonely, and distant. The service is at 10:00 local time. It’s a beautiful send off for a wonderful, wonderful man. The music is stirring, the singing rousing, the dedications heartfelt and heart-breaking. I treat myself to a glass of wine to accompany the service, and spend most of the 90 minutes in tears. I’m glad to have been a part of it - even from 4,000 miles away, but fuck - that was tough.
I’m not entirely in the mood for fun and frolics, but if anyone can lift me from this darkness, it’s Andy. We set off for St Petersburg, a 90 minute drive over to the West Coast. It’s a bit of an enclave in Florida - lots of art, cool places to eat, microbreweries, and a vibrant LGBTQ+ community. We start with a well deserved beer at 3 Daughters brewing, with a couple of great tacos to line the stomach. We then march (womble is probably closer to it) around the neighbourhood, taking in some of the great mural work that’s part of an annual street art festival. Some of it’s absolutely brilliant. It’s properly hot today - 37c, and so we must make regular pitstops to keep ourselves hydrated / topped up with beer.
Around 16:00, we head into downtown St Pete’s, and take a walk around the central neighbourhoods. The streets are busy with Friday afternoon revelry. Bars with seating spilling out onto the streets, restaurants that put out a brilliant smell as we walk past them. It’s still banging hot though, so we seek refuge in a ‘pour it yourself’ beer hall. They have c. 40 beers on tap. You don a wristband, which you wave at the beer pump you want, then pour as much as you want. It’s a great concept - similar to a wine place I tried in London a few years back. The beers we try are all excellent, and it’s a really fun way to try beers that you otherwise might avoid.
It’s 18:20, and we should probably head back to Auburndale. We navigate (Andy navigates) the Friday night rush hour traffic on the interstate. It’s reassuring to see that there are just as many (if not more) dickheads in Friday rush hour on US roads than the UK. Back in Auburndale, we head to a brewpub called the Crave and Copper for some food. It’s excellent - sort of high end pub grub / junk food. Brilliant loaded tater tots, some awesome chicken wings, a smoked fish dip that is better than it deserves to be. The only slight let down is Andy’s shrimp and grits, which doesn’t hold a candle to the versions I’ve tried on this trip so far.
I call it a night around 21:45. It’s been a long, and heavily emotional day, and I just want to curl up in a ball and sleep…Read more
United StatesFloridaPolk CountyAuburndaleLake Hart28°5’17” N 81°47’25” W
May 9 in the United States ⋅ ☁️ 27 °C
16:30
I have a decent sleep, and wake up feeling fairly refreshed. I don’t have much of a plan today. Will just see where the day takes me. I set off in the general direction of Florida - South by South-East, and arrive into Nashville about a half hour later. It’s a very different Nashville. I have breakfast in an all but empty diner, and another waitress tells me how much she loves my accent. When I walk back to my car, it’s surrounded by police. Well - that’s a bit of an exaggeration. Two police officers and a Sheriff are stood by it, one of whom looks a little like he’s writing me a ticket. I wish them a good morning, and go to get in my car. One of them says, “Hey buddy - you ain’t from round here, huh?” I confirm that I’m not, get in the car, and high-tail it outta town.
I continue in the general direction of Florida. I’m conscious that roads down which I’m travelling are of the long and straight variety. It’s a little soporific. I chuck on the lane assist setting, and fire up the cruise control, and take the opportunity to look around me. The scenery is changing. Gone are the lush pastures of Kentucky and Tennessee. Southern Georgia (and then Northern Florida, when I get there) are drier and more arid.
I arrive into Gainesville, a mid-sized Floridian city around 11:30, and pause to stretch my legs. The sun’s really starting to heat up - around 32C by midday. After a modest mooch, I get back on the road. I’ve got at least another 3 hours down to Auburndale. As I’m pulling into Inverness (!) I realise I’m pretty peckish, so check GoogleMaps for decent lunch spots nearby - finding a lakeside pub. It’s hot, but pleasantly so, and so I sit in the garden. I can’t help but think back to our recent time in Thailand, and the discomfort we’d have experienced if trying to do the same. Jennifer tells me today’s specials, which include a shrimp and sausage gumbo, which sounds perfect. She asks if I want a cup or a bowl. Bowl please. What emerges is what you and I would call a cauldron. It’s vast. The Brit in me won’t let me lave any though, so I plough my way through it. Slowly. It leaves me feeling like a nap, but onwards I must go…
The afternoon consists of more long, straight roads, which aren’t particularly memorable. I arrive into Auburndale just after 16:00, and check into my AirBnB for the next couple of nights. The views over the pool to the lake are really something. The combination of a big lunch and boring roads have left their mark though, and I feel like I’ve earnt an urgent nap.
22:30
My nap is super-deluxe. Nearly two hours, but I wake up feeling refreshed. I’m meeting our good friend Andy later. He’s been in the US for the past 6-7 years, so we see much less of him than we’d like. Hanging out this evening and tomorrow is real treat.
We head to what Andy describes as ‘A typical Polk County bar,’ and I don’t think he’s being kind. We sit outside on the deck, catching up over a couple of beers, and some Gator bites (think fried chicken, but…) which are delicious. As the sun sets, we’re getting eaten alive by mossies though, so move inside. We make plans to meet around midday tomorrow, to go somewhere called ‘St Pete’ - about which I have no idea, but Andy seems excited, so I am too.Read more
United StatesGeorgiaTift CountyTifton31°27’29” N 83°30’55” W
May 8 in the United States ⋅ ☀️ 29 °C
06:00
Wow. Guess I needed the sleep. I wake up a few times during the night, but essentially sleep through till 05:30, and a total of 10.5 hours of sleep. I feel massively refreshed as a result. SOLID.
There’s another supposedly stellar BBQ place near the place I’m staying in Georgia. Let’s hope I can stay awake for this one.
I’m only 30 miles from Atlanta here in Gadsden, but I’m headed towards the Talladega Forest this morning, before heading South East into Georgia, via Columbus. It’s all back roads, and small towns. Looking forward to it.
20:00
I’ve had a great, if slightly confusing day on the road today. From Gadsden, I head to a town called Oxford, about 30 miles South. It’s exactly the picture postcard expectation of small town southern USA. I grab some breakfast, then set-off into the countryside, aiming for the Talladega Scenic Highway, in Cheaha State Park. The views across the southern end of the Appalachian Mountain chain are really quite something. It’s a lovely drive through the forest, and I do get a little lost, when I miss a tiny turn-off.
I set off on a fast cruise towards Columbus, a mid-sized town that’s just over the border into Georgia - and on Eastern time. I stop in at a very cool little bar/bistro called The Black Cow. They claim to have the best burger in the South, and I can’t disagree. It’s banging. I have a lovely chat with Felicia who’s working behind the bar. She asks me what I think of America and Americans. I sense a trap. I give a slightly circumspect response about there being great places and not so great places, great people and not so great people, and also mention that I think the election in November is pivotal for the country. “Fuck Trump” is what I get back in response - which I wasn’t entirely expecting.
After lunch, I aim for something I’ve read about - the Drive Thru Museum. It’s back in Alabama though, so on Central Time. I don’t know how folks living right on the timezone border cope with the constant changes. I’d be late for work every day - if I actually worked. I’m entirely unclear whether where I’m aiming for is a museum about the drive thru, or a museum through which one drives. It turns out to be the latter. It’s absolutely crackers. There are 5-6 shipping containers, painted red, and filled with the weirdest collection of displays I could have imagined. I’m not sure it’s really a museum, as much a collection of utterly bizarre, but quite cool tat. It’s a wonderful slice of strange.
I’ve a 2.5 hour / 140 mile cruise through the Alabama and Georgia countryside to reach Tifton, my overnight stop. I’ve had a request to write some words for Micky’s eulogy. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I spend a good chunk of this drive reminiscing about how we met, the time we spent together, and how much I miss him. My playlist for the drive is a nod towards him as well, featuring many of the artists he introduced me to over the years. When I stop for gas, I get a bit of a look from the cashier. It’s only when I get back in the car that I realise my eyes are a deep red, and my cheeks are tear stained.
Having missed out on my BBQ last night, I make sure I get out in Tifton to a little BBQ spot called Pit-stop. I have a combo plate of some sensational ribs, and some very good (but not the best I’ve ever had) brisket, along with an unsweetened ice tea. A fair few restaurants in the South don’t have a liquor licence - though I’m unsure whether this is by design or default. I’m a convert to good iced-tea, though I hope the caffeine doesn’t bite me later. From tomorrow night, I have actual evening plans for the next few days, so it would be great if I was actually able to stay awake past 21:00. I’m *hoping* a little touch of caffeine will help me stay awake till a more reasonable bedtime, without robbing me of the ability to sleep. It’s 20:00, and I’m not narcoleptic yet. Fingers crossed, touch wood etc etc…Read more
