Back from the land of flowers

When the Spanish explorers reached the southern part of North America in early sixteenth century, they discovered an almost tropical land covered with flowers (and swamps, but perhaps they did not notice those at first). Thus - they gave it an appropriate name - La Florida - the land of flowers. We drove almost two thousand miles, and cut through this long state up and down - from the northern borders to the southern most Key West.

When we were leaving Atlanta, the cold was intense and depressing. Packing swimsuits and beach umbrellas felt slightly inappropriate. But with every hundred miles south it felt as if someone was slowly uncovering the sun and turning up the thermostat. By the time we got to St. Augustine on the first night, it was much warmer already. The air smelled of the ocean and the upcoming spring. The shabby chic B&B we stayed at (Penny Farthing Inn) was full of trinkets, old china, and antique curiosities such as this one:

And when you add warm apple pie and tea waiting for us when we arrived, the full delight of the experience reveals itself. St. Augustine is an old town, in fact it is the oldest in the United States. There are reminders of history everywhere: castle, fort, museums. We were somewhat distracted because we could not wait to get further south - to Miami and Key West, yet we could not help but be charmed.

Next point - 'The Breakers' in the gorgeous, outrageously posh Palm Beach. The hotel fits the place like a leather glove. First built in 1896 by Henry Flagler - the builder of Florida railways and the head of Standard Oil (so powerful that it was dissolved by the Supreme Court in 1911 and split into 34 smaller companies - two of which later became Exxon and Mobil) - it was burnt twice and rebuilt to perfection. We enjoyed the luxurious lobby, which seemed to stretch for miles. The ceiling reminded me somewhat, in grandeur and in colour scheme, of the Vatican library - and in spite of that there was little I could call kitsch or cheap in this marvel of a place. The swanky restaurant where we had dinner was a true culinary mystery - just to mention a salad served in a tiny parcel with the dressing hidden in a little bubble one had to bite through. The rotunda breakfast room was one of the most breathtaking places to ingest your morning eggs and coffee that I encountered. We loved strolling around the cloisters and tiny courtyards, dipping in the relaxation swimming pool (one of five), and watching the sun travel over the ocean.

Our exit from Palm Beach was equally impressive. First - manicured streets with tiny hat shops, antique stores, coffee shops, art galleries, trodden softly by ladies and gentlemen clothed in pastels. I saw a mysterious slender figure of a woman covered head to toe in white and beige - wide-brimmed hat, scarf covering part of her face and her neck, long gloves and large sunglasses. She flowed almost above the pavement seemingly oblivious to bright sun and heat. Then we drove down narrow alleys, where one after another, among perfectly trimmed hedges, magnificent gates the size of our house hid mansions, sculpture gardens, fountains, and other things normally only seen in museums. We visited the house Henry Flagler gave to his third wife: she wanted a marble palace by the ocean and she did get just that! Pity he did not get to enjoy the house too long - died of a heart attack soon after they moved in. 

The road towards Miami almost touched the ocean. Perfect weather, the turquoise of the water, slight breeze... even my car sickness went away somewhere faced with these delights. The luxury turned to a concrete reality of jungles of retirement condos and hotels, only occasionally broken by a mansion or two, or by a public beach. Boca Raton, where we made a short yet unremarkable stop - perhaps with the exception of golf which was superb, Fort Lauderdale, etc, etc. Who knew there were so many people willing to retire to Florida... But who can blame them? This sun and this breeze (Floridians must have booked their own sun and breeze with god in advance somehow - they feel so different!) can make even tons of thousands of concrete and glass feel fresh and inviting. Those who could not afford their share of the concrete brought their mobile homes with them - we saw quite a few trailer parks filled with those 'snow birds'. 

Then - Miami Beach! Since I first experienced this cocktail of cultures, cuisines, colours, and, oh, art deco, in 2007, I have not been the same. And yet, this time I found it a touch tiresome. True, the ocean was there, so was the white sand, and the shopping, and the food, and the curvy art deco buildings, and the colorful crowds of the weird and the interesting, but what fun could they be for a large-tummied woman? My soul and my taste buds craved a mojito - of course an unachievable fantasy. After all, Zosia should choose her own favourite cocktail when she is grown. The sushi - always the high point for me - was another unattainable. Suddenly I started noticing the dust, the annoying crowds, the rush... Miami and me are having a crisis. Below is a photo from the place I really enjoyed, however - the Rusty Pelican has such great views of Miami that one forgets about the curiosities they serve there and call food. 

Later I discovered a new revelation - the Keys! We drove all the way to Key West when we left Miami. Driving down the seven mile bridge over the turquoise water one seems to have a feeling of leaving behind what ought to be left behind. And a new dawn comes, when one is surrounded by a curious mixture of all types of human species, by the beauty of coastal architecture, by countless chickens walking here and there, and of course by water on all sides - there seems to be nowhere to go! And it is interestingly soothing - even Hemingway seemed to think so (for a while at least), and he should know. 

Coming back to the people of Key West: there are those who left suits and city jobs for long beards and motorcycles, and there are those who did nothing of the kind - rather they bought expensive, charming houses and settled to a sun-filled life; there are thousands of tourists spit out every day by cruise ships for a brief stop on their way to the Caribbean - they spend their time buying cheap tat and getting drunk in the marina's bars; there are artists who rightly thought this was an inspiring place to be; there are artists and musicians who no longer wish to be creative, but spend their days recounting all the good and the bad in their life. And there we were - walking around and admiring them all. 

The hotel we stayed at was a phenomenon in itself -an old mansion with charming, palm-shaded courtyards, just off the streets with all the fun - the Island City House. Our veranda was a perfect place to read - I swallowed the Great Gatsby in a few hours there, and started craving another great novel. Key West - I will be back!