The Road Less Traveled

I went to the cafeteria again and ordered breakfast.  This time my Spanish failed me–I understood the server when she asked if I wanted my eggs fried or scrambled, but when she asked how I wanted my fried eggs (rico? suave?) I asked her to repeat it and she did–in English (over easy or medium).  A few minutes later, I had a plate of medium-fried eggs, bacon, fries, Cuban toast, and cafe con leche for $3.75!  Such a deal!

From the cafeteria, I took bus 27 north to 8th Street.  It was a short ride, but it would have been (or at least felt like) a long walk.  It was further evidence that a car might have been handy. 

Calle Ocho

I got off the bus and saw a sign welcoming me to Calle Ocho, the Spanish way of saying 8th Street and, in Miami, a sign that one is in the heart of Little Havana.  I walked for several blocks past Latin supermarkets and restaurants, music stores with salsa music pouring out of them, and clothing stores with dresses and shoes that are appropriate for clubbing and salsa dancing, but not for my doctoral student/teacher life.

I saw a tour bus and a sign indicating that there was a nearby historical Domino Club. At first I thought it was a music hall (a la the Cotton Club), but it turned out to be an outdoor park where people (mostly men) can play in domino or chess tournaments.  Out of respect, I didn’t take pictures.  I did  take pictures of monuments to various martyrs in the efforts to liberate Cuba from Castro.

My guidebook said that 12th Avenue is the end of the Little Havana section of 8th Street. It didn’t say that 12th Avenue is also named after the late President Ronald Reagan.  I can see now the split personality Florida has, and why it is so hard  for the state to choose a president.

A Curious Code-Switch

I walked up 12th Avenue to Flagler Avenue to catch a bus to Miami Beach (actually, the southern part of Miami Beach, known as South Beach or SoBe).  A man in the Walgreens parking lot saw me waiting and kindly told me that I couldn’t catch the bus where I was; he directed me back to 1st Street to wait. 

 I decided to stop in Walgreens to get some water and money, and found that my studies were not going to waste just because it’s spring break.  I’ve read some articles about code-switching (changing from one language or language variety to another). One article said that bilingual Spanish-English women in the U.S. will often speak Spanish to their children, but will switch to English when they are scolding or making a strong point. I’d never witnessed anyone doing this with a child, let alone with an adult.

As I was in line at Walgreens, a woman walked in with a shopping cart and told the clerk in Spanish that she was going to leave the cart near the front of the store while she went to the bathroom. The clerk gently indicated that that was not acceptable. Suddenly, the woman switched to English, saying “This is America! I’m an American! I know my rights! I know the rules and regulations!” She seemed to repeat these facts again in Spanish.  The poor clerk seemed shaken by the encounter.

South Beach

Half an hour later, I’d left this incident behind and arrived at the corner of Washington Avenue and Lincoln Road.  I saw in my guidebook that Lincoln Road was a pedestrian mall, and yellowpages.com said there was a bike rental on Lincoln Road.

Lincoln Road was a pleasant surprise.  Not only were there shops for all price ranges, there were several cafes with outdoor tables.  Most tables had umbrellas with a covering to match the restaurant’s awning–orange, blue, tan, etc.  After walking the length of Lincoln Road, I settled on Pizza Rustica. I got a huge slice (more like a square individual pizza) with a wheat crust, greens, veggies, and chicken on it for $5. 

After lunch, I realized it was well after 3:00, and I really didn’t have time to both ride a bike and lay out on the beach.  So I went straight to the sand.  I like a good Southern California beach, but I couldn’t believe how clean and clear the water was in Miami Beach in comparison.  The water wasn’t as cold, either. 

Evening in South Beach

After a few hours of splashing in the water and napping and splashing and napping (and not feeling guilty for a minute that I didn’t crack open a book), the wind started to feel “cold”. I packed up and walked to Collins Avenue, a street with many hotels and restaurants built in the Art Deco (1930s American) architectural style.  I walked into the nearest one, the Marseilles, and changed clothes in the bathroom.

Maybe because the doorman asked if I was checking in, or I was blinded by the lime green walls at the reception desk, or it was a small hotel, I felt guilty for using the facilities without spending money.  I went to the bar and had a couple of drinks.

At 7:45, Halle was still en route but I didn’t want to stay in the bar and drink all night.  I settled the bill and started walking towards 8th and Ocean, where we’d be meeting Halle’s former roommate Carla for dinner.  Along the way, I passed more Art Deco hotels. I also moseyed down Espanola Way, a narrow street of Mexican and Italian restaurants ending in a small cobblestoned plaza.

Around 13th street, I crossed over to Ocean Avenue, where it really started to feel like Spring Break Central.  There were lots of young girls in bikinis or dresses, some of them already drunk, and young men trying to talk to the young girls.  There was one bar with a frozen drink called “Call-a-Cab”.  At the same time though, there was an air of gentility on the street as well. There were palm trees and tall white buildings and restaurants with lobster, steak, and expensive stone crab.  It was busy but it wasn’t uncomfortably crowded. But then again, it’s probably early in the spring break season.

I made it to Lario’s, aka Bongos, the Cuban restaurant owned by Gloria Estefan.  I found Carla based on Halle’s description, and Halle reached the table a short time later.

 We started with mojitos (a Cuban cocktail) in souvenir glasses, and tostones–plaintains that are sliced, smashed, then fried.  The tostones were good but Carla said we should have had dipping sauce, especially after we asked.  We wondered if we weren’t getting good service because we were women and might not tip as much, or if it’s because a 15 percent tip was already included in the bill so the servers did not have as much pressure to provide good service.  (Carla said the tip is included because many foreigners come to Miami Beach and don’t know that it’s customary to tip servers in the U.S.). 

Halle said she had heard the food at Lario’s isn’t as authentic as that at Versailles, but that it’s good. I could not disagree with that description.  The grilled fish with garlic seasoning I had was tasty, as were the side dishes of fried plaintains and white rice.  The best part of the dinner, though, besides chatting with Halle and Carla, was the desert–tres leches (“three milks”).  According to Wikipedia, it’s a kind of cake that is soaked in three kinds of milk: evaporated milk, condensed milk, and whole milk or cream.  That explains why it was so sweet and so good (the fattening things usually are!)

Halle graciously picked up the tab, saying it’s a treat for her to have dinner out with friends.  We packed up the souvenir glasses as best we could, and walked back to Carla’s car.   As soon as we got back to Halle’s, I realized that my trip was all over except for the packing and getting the glasses back to Philly without breaking them (which I did). 

In the morning I took a cab to the airport.  There was a Versailles Cafe bakery before security. I ordered a pastry with guava filling, the last Miami experience for a while.  It was like my trip as a whole–short but very sweet.

I should begin by explaining how this trip came about in the first place. I am a student again, and had spring break coming up. I was trying to figure out what to do with this week of “free” time, when I got a Travelocity alert that fares from Philadelphia to Miami were only $103 round trip! I have a former Philly roommate, Halle, in Miami, it’s warmer than Philly, and I’d never been there. I emailed her, and she said it was cool if I came down (even though she was moving to a new place right before my arrival).  I booked the ticket (which of course had gone up since I’d last checked it), but it was still a good deal.

Arrival in Miami and First Cafe con Leche

I left Philly Monday night at 7:45 pm. Apparently, a Monday night in March is the best time to fly to Miami. Not only was I able to ask for and get an emergency exit row seat (it has much more legroom than a regular economy seat), I had THE WHOLE ROW to myself. Sweetness!

When I arrived in Miami it was nearly 11, so I took a cab ($20) from the airport to Halle’s house. After showing me the house, Halle suggested we go out and get coffee. Being old and having lived too long in places where either there’s nowhere to walk to (California) or it’s dangerous to walk at 11 p.m. at night (Philadelphia), it had never occurred to me to go out upon my arrival. But since it’s vacation and Miami is clearly safer to walk in, it seemed all right.

We walked down 27th Avenue. (Avenues and streets run perpendicular.) Halle pointed out a cafeteria (Spanish for “coffee shop/cafe’) she likes to go to which was already closed. I am using the term cafeteria because that is what the place was called, and because the cafeteria in Miami has Latin American coffee and food served by predominantly Spanish-speaking employees.

Instead, we went to a bright coral-colored building, a laundromat which also had a 24-hour cafeteria with a few tables outside to sit at. Halle wanted cafe con leche (“coffee with milk”), which she described as espresso mixed with milk. Since I didn’t want to be up all night, I instead ordered a smoothie. I was tempted to order a papa relleno (“stuffed potato”), a dish I had liked in Lima, but instead went adventurous and ordered a Cuban toast to find out what it was. It turns out “Cuban toast” is as simple as the name suggests–a long roll with butter, heated. Well, at least it was only 75 cents.

Halle suggested I try some of her cafe con leche. It turns out it is not made with ordinary milk, but with sweet cream. It’s like the hot Latin cousin of Thai iced coffee. I knew I’d have to get my own cup of it the next day.

March 11: Second Cafe con Leche

In the morning, I walked down 27th Avenue again to the first cafeteria and sat at the counter. I looked at the menu on the wall, and saw only coffee drinks and sandwiches. I ordered a cafe con leche and pan con lechon (“bread with pork”). It was good. As I sat at the counter, though, I heard the server say to a man, “Desayuno? (“Breakfast?”). I saw her bring out a plate of two fried eggs (yolks unbroken), and thick, meaty bacon. Ordering that went on my next day to-do list.

Coconut Grove

After eating, I kept walking down 27th Avenue until I saw signs for Coconut Grove. I followed them first to the harbor with its lovely yachts in the lovely water, then went to Grand Avenue, the main shopping street of Coconut Grove. I was impressed by the buildings with tilework or sculpture designs in the walls. There were also many art galleries with a wide range of art that was beautiful and expressive in many different ways. Too bad I had no money to buy any.

It was nearly 11 a.m., but workers were still cleaning the terra cotta floors of the open air malls and several shops were still closed. The restaurants seemed kind of empty also. I felt like this is the kind of town that stays up until 3 a.m. and hates you if you try to wake it before noon.

I meandered around the town nevertheless, finding my way to Main Hwy. I saw the entrance to the Barnacle, advertised as the oldest house in Dade County on its original site.  Unfortunately, it is open to the public on weekends only. On the same road I saw  gates that seem to guard a mansion, and trees with Tarzan-style vines hanging from them. (Halle’s friend Carla later told me these were banyon trees.)

Soon it was lunchtime. I was tempted to go to Senor Frog’s on Main Highway for Mexican food, but I felt I should try something more local. I settled on Cafe Tu Tu Tango at CocoWalk. The restaurant had a nice awning-covered terrace and more original artwork (and even one artist working at her craft) in the inside section of the restaurant. I ordered a reasonably priced (and tasty) sangria, and ceviche. The ceviche was good, though not as mindblowing as when I had in Lima. It was also kind of small for $9; the pizza would have been a better deal. Plus, I read the menu and found out they have restaurants in Orange, CA so it wasn’t as local as I thought.

Feeling poorer and still slightly hungry, I left Cafe Tu Tu Tango and headed to Bookstore at the Grove for a soy latte and homemade carrot cake. It was nice to sit at the table of a independent bookstore and read while I listened to jazz music.

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