Cayo Hueso

After shooting the Hollywood Crowne Plaza I shot southward towards the keys. The highway was stop and go due to a diversion, so I to the chance to get some food and gas.

As fate would have it, the station was right next to a Mediterranean restaurant and so I was excited! I got some tabouleh (salad) and shish taouk (chicken pita). The chicken was a bit raw but I wolfed it down. Afterwards, the Middle Eastern girl working there brought out some fried pita, sprinkled with brown sugar and said “have some of this.” With the lemony-white dipping sauce it wasn’t half-bad. I finished this all with a Greek, er, Turkish, er, Arabian coffee. Let’s be fair, it should be called Arabian coffee. After all, that is where the coffee migrated to first and was prepared in that fashion, first! Italian trading brought it to Europe and Turkish occupation brought it to its former occupied territories, including Greece. The Greeks stopped calling it Turkish coffee after the invasion of Cyprus. So, even though it’s probably best to ask for Greek coffee in a Greek restaurant and Turkish in others, it’s the most correct to call it Arabian. But what about Ethiopian! Isn’t that where coffee came from? Ah, er, perhaps you’re right.

So, what is it? Most of you probably have had it and know. But it’s essentially coffee ground to powder and boiled in water and sweetened. The result is something that doesn’t even taste like coffee to me. It tastes more like black honey! And at the end of a really good cup, the more tar you will find resting in the bottom of that tiny cup! Americans are the ones who watered it down into the thin stuff it is now.

Down to Cheeca Lodge and Spa. Man, oh, man, what a place! After being greeted by valets (I asked to park it myself) you walk through the court yard and into main building. It has 3 restaurants, which open up into the open-air seating which is covered with a newly thatched roof. Like is common down here, there is the typical pool and tiki bar. It has an activity hut with an assortment of white boards with activities and times for snorkel, fishing and eco trips. There are kayaks to use at your whim and benches and cloth tents all along the daily-raked beach.

When I got there I decided that I am going to be a guest and take advantage of what was there. Seeing the shore lined with open topped kayaks, I hopped in a Perception Mona Kai and paddled out into the green water. It was very sunny and a generally gorgeous day. There would be the occasional school of fish jumping out of the water in unison, a sure sign that something like a barracuda was pursuing them. The water was so warm, being only about four feet deep. In this water turtles and sharks swam freely. When you looked back to the property you would see the strategically planted palms and daily manicured sands. It was beautiful, in its own, resort-type way.

That night I ordered some food, which was fine and expensive, surprise, surprise. I heard complaints come from at least three different tables about service, food or why someone was seated before them. Piles of affluent children hung on their parents and wine was sniffed and poured. Afro-caribbeans waited on the Caucasian crowd and I spoiled myself with a piece of key lime pie. I sat and thought about slavery, astronomy, politics and the Wild game that was soon to start. After paying, I laid for a moment on a padded beach chair. The top of a palm stood next to the moon. Leo was high overhead. Auriga was setting. I'd rather say farewell to this winter constellation in St. Paul.

That Wild game ran especially late out here! Making for a little more drowsy of a morning, I still got my shots, although the sun was playing hide and seek and the day would be one of the colder ones here.

I head to Marathon. Not having success in finding a fly fishing comp, I fell back on a site I was personally more interested in - the Sea Turtle Hospital! Having been there years ago it had stuck in my memory as a wonderful place. A non-profit hospital and recovery station for sea turtles. Converted from a hotel destroyed in a hurricane the hospital takes care of around 100 turtles a year. These poor guys are gashed by propeller blades, have limbs sawed off by fishing line, ingest man-made plastics, hooks and the like and also have natural injuries from sharks. The director took me around and did a fabulous job in front of the camera! He highlighted certain turtles, pointed to the injuries on their carapaces, heads and fins, showed x-rays and explained concerns and all-around created a perfect piece. Man, if I could just shoot stuff like this, along the educational, non-profit, realm... I'll have to shoot a few more properties before that. But we shall see!

The main drag of Marathon seemed like a more populated version of a dessert road. Many shops were weathered and no longer in business. Even the IHOP had not a single car in the parking lot. It’s is doing well, I think, but it just appears sad to me. I stopped at one of the few places that was not a marina-bar-restaurant (I’m beginning to cringe at them.) That, which seemed like a biker’s diner, still hadn’t a dish under $17. So, I grabbed a bowl of chowder and then hit the Winn Dixie (the main grocery store down here) for some oranges and Gatorade. It was tough to get to sleep, hoping the Wild would recover.

Morning saw another shoot. The highlight was whilst taking yet another shot from a tiki bar. From the corner of my eye I could tell a large figure was slowly edging over to me, looking at me and over my shoulder, so-to-speak. Sometimes, when in a rush, I find this annoying. But I looked up, friendly-like, to see an air conditioning serviceman saying, ‘that’s a nice camera!’ What a joy it was to find a southerner! He was from Arkansas. I shut off my camera and we had a good chat about gravity furnaces, lemon sharks, our respective states and family. His demeanor made me wish I was in the north of Florida again. Such a genuine and nice guy and a wonderful retreat from the New England blue bloods down here! Here's to Dana Air Conditioning Service.

Down to Key West! I drove over 7-mile bridge, talking with yet another new property shoot on my phone and writing down details on my legal pad. They are closing the enter bridge for a few hours Saturday. It is good that I’ll be heading north on Friday! I also passed the Pigeon Key haunted research island that I had been on year's ago. You can see it to your right.

Before I hit my next appointment, I ate at IHOP and got a haircut. Boy, the woman spent the most time anyone has spent on my disappearing hair! Hearing the Village People playing in the background and noticing that my eyebrows were being trimmed, I thought, ‘Yeah, I’m in Key West alright!’

Next to my next appointment I found a Greek café!!! I swung in and took a peek. It felt nice. Greek music was playing, a menu was packed of American-Greek food and there was a beverage section. I searched for Retsina and only saw big bottles. A girl came over and showed me the regular ones, tucked behind the others. I brought them to the counter and the old Greek woman gave me the suspicious-old-Greek-woman glance. I have gotten this before, in Greece. She looked at the bottles and asked, “Are you Greek!?” I answered cautiously in the positive. She pointed to the bottles and boasted, “This is the best Retsina!” As I was buying them she asked, in a suspicious tone, where my family was from. I mentioned Kipseli and she shrunk her face in non-recognition. “Near Kastoria, by the village of Nike.” (I know I pronounced these right, at least! kastoriA! Niki!) She said told me where she was from, “Veria,” in very quick Greek. I asked, ‘Is that closer to Thessolaniki?’ She slapped the map right behind her, ‘Kastoria is here,’ SLAP, ‘Veria is here,’ SLAP. (Yes it was closer to Thessolanki!) I talked a little bit more and I said I would be returning. My limited customary Greek failed me and I did not attempt it. In fact, my French is the only thing I’ve been able to keep going in stressful times. Like in Albania when they singled me out into the headquarters and it was just me and a bunch Albanian police with Koloshnikovs. They knew no English (which was common), some knew French. I gave them my $20 bribe and was on my way. Sometimes it’s much better to do that and be on your way than to be detained in such a place

Anyhoo, if I’ve the time, I want to do a little segment at the Greek restaurant. That would be great!

The property I shot was decorated as contemporarily tasteful a place could be and I found it intimidating that the owner was paying close attention to my shots.

OK, Key West. The architecture is very southern, with two-story porches and green growth everywhere. Palms are packed into every yard and there’s a lot of historical homes and iron fences. Houses are in all sorts of states, as you see in the house, but rich properties abound. Parked cars line both sides of the street and there is room for but one car driving down a street at a time. At a stop sign you stop about ten feet back as to allow a turning car approaching you, a place to turn.

Feral roosters are everywhere. They cockle-doodle-doo ( I think it’s more like ‘ur-ur-ur-urrrrr’) at all hours. All hours. Traffic stops for them. They live under abandoned houses and sleep in trees. Feral cats abound. They are on stoops everywhere. People leave food out for them on the sidewalks and throw it to them at restaurants. The cats and roosters live in harmony with one another.

Scooters are everywhere as well. You can rent them, along with bicycles. It makes sense in such a tightly packed place.

The main drag is called Duval Street. On it you will find ice cream shops, art galleries and restaurants. At one end, one block over, you will find a big, striped, concrete marker which denotes the southernmost point in the continental US. People wait in line to take a picture with it. I walked to the other side to do a bit for the camera. The minute I did so, a mass of people thought that looked like a good idea and so followed me. Oh well. Behind it is an iron fence, beyond which you can see military dishes and arrays. Off the coast you can see fighter jets patrolling.

If you walk Duvall street down to the other end, you will find the location of the Sunset Celebration. I head that way in order to film it. Walking down that way, about two hours from sunset, the drag began to feel like another version of Bourbon Street. Throngs of people begin to flow to seek out attractions. Mediocre music from mediocre bands filters out to the street. A guy started a conversation with me. I asked a guy where he was from and he said Connecticut. I mentioned how there seems to be a lot of New Englanders down here. “That’s cawse we got all the money,” he gaffawed.

I ate at a great Cuban place called Pepe’s House (in Spanish, of course.) I had a mojito, which is a must down here! It is a drink that comes from Cuba and has rum, lime juice, mint leaves, water and sugar in it. In other words, it’s a more drinkable version of grog. You see, grog was what they served sailers way back when. Alcohol kills bacteria and lime provided vitamin C which prevented scurvy. From this originated the term the derogatory ‘Limey’ for Brits who implemented the use of citrus to fight scurvy, etc.

I ordered, chicken, yellow rice, black beans and yucca. The Yucca was similar to a potato, but with sinewy strands that you had to pull out. It was very tasty! The black beans were, very black and tasted like coffee. The chicken was covered in a great white, mushroom sauce but the chicken itself was a bit dry. Before this they had served up warm buttered bread and crackers and two types of salsa, one of which had a great kick to it. We were in an outdoor brick patio, recessed and surrounded by trees. Pigeons flew from tree to tree overhead and were mating with each other (first time I've seen that), roosters pecked at the ground and then found their bed for the night in the trees overhead, and cats came out and stared expectingly at customers for food. The rum and food cheered me, as did the Cuban music coming from a duo around the corner.

I finished and sat on a bench near the performers. They began a meringue and I smiled and filmed the band and a couple as they danced. The waiters and waitresses stopped what they were doing and began to meringue. I teared-up cause these people were truly happy and living who they were.

The sun was setting and performers came out. Along the railing performers were spaced about 20 feet from one another and surrounded by crowds. There were jugglers, glass walkers, comedians and musicians. I filmed them for a bit. Out in the harbor great sail ships were going back and forth before the sun. The whole atmosphere had an energy that made me catch my breath.

I heard pipers piping. Yes, sure enough, at the end of the performer row, two bag pipers were playing. I completed my moment there. Keeping my mic on to record the pipes, filming pipers fingering, bellows,sporrans, people’s expressions, sail ships, sun and such, it was a special time. They did the traditional Amazing Grace, which I normally can’t stand, though love the pipes. This time, however, I got quite choked up. With pipes playing, the sun setting and the occasional person crying. The ships were sailing to the Grey Havens. I wrestled back my own tears and finished my night.

Tomorrow is diving in the Keys. Will I keep my food down? Or shall the beans and yucca flow? Perhaps I should have bought something to take. I still want to see if this nausea is an occasional thing. After all, if Charles Darwin had to manage his own extreme sea-sickness during the entire voyage of the Beagle, I should be able to handle it for a half-day journey! What will this new day bring?

I’ll continue to send you all good thoughts as I always do.