The Road Less Traveled

After I left The Bookstore at the Grove, I walked down Grand Avenue to Bayshore Drive and turned left. I started walking up Bayshore Drive towards downtown. I stopped at a park, where I had a good and sunny view of Biscayne Bay. I sat for several minutes at a bench overlooking the bay, savoring the moment of being bayside in Miami.

Around 3:00, I continued walking towards Villa Viscaya, listed in my “1000 Places in the U.S. and Canada you Must See Before you Die” book (thanks Christie) as well as my AAA guide to Miami. Along the way I went down some side streets to see some homes that judging from their size and design were built for some very wealthy people. One house that looked like an Italian Villa I had to take a picture of.

From the AAA map Villa Viscaya didn’t look that far from downtown Coconut Grove. But it was getting close to 4:00 and I still hadn’t made it. I was beginning to think about taking the bus when I saw a sign that said “Viscaya 100 feet”. Finally!

I entered the gates and walked down a garden path with occasional statues along the way to the entrance. It wasn’t cheap–$11 with a $1 discount from AAA–but when I saw the house in the distance, I knew I had to go in.

If I had the trip to do over again, I would start at Villa Viscaya and end up in downtown Coconut Grove. As I said earlier, CocoWalk and its commercial neighbors weren’t quite awake at 11 a.m. In contrast, Villa Viscaya seems to be enjoyed best earlier in the day. I had already missed the last tour of the day (included in the price). I had enough time to enjoy seeing the house and gardens, but some of the exits were closed off as visiting hours neared the end.  I also would not walk, especially in new sandals. 

That said, Villa Viscaya, in my opinion, was worth every penny and blister and deserves its place in the guidebooks. The house is a 3-story, 22-room mansion with a huge stone courtyard in the middle. Most rooms have elaborate coverings of European-style tapestries or paintings (except the more modest decorations of the owner, James Deering’s, study and bedroom and the “Asian themed” rooms). Deering had a marble bath and sink. He had a dining room and a breakfast room, and two pantries. One side of the house has an opening right onto Biscayne Bay. The gardens have buildings that looked like they had been made from materials right in the ocean. My words are truly not doing it justice. Sadly, no photos are allowed inside the house, but I have many photos of the exterior on my Photobucket site:

http://s193.photobucket.com/albums/z72/reisefrau/Miami–Spring%20Break%202008/ 

I left Viscaya around 5:30. Despite the hours I’d spent walking, I felt refreshed. That said, I wasn’t eager to try to walk all the way back to Halle’s. Fortunately, there was a security guard in the parking lot who directed me to get on the nearest bus and take it to Viscaya Metrorail station where I could change buses and head down Coral Way to the intersection near where Halle lives.The bus ride was much easier than walking, and only cost $2. I was “home” at last–for a while.

When Halle got back from work, we put on our party clothes and called a cab. Our destination: Versailles Cafe. Not a French restaurant, but a famous Cuban restaurant in the heart of Little Havana.

It may seem strange to you that I say this (it didn’t seem strange to Halle), but when I walked into Versailles Cafe, I felt like I was in Jewish deli. There was a case of sweets right at the front door, many tables, mirrored walls like Brent’s at home, and a communal energy mixed with the promise of food for soul.

While someone could take the argument further and point out that both the American Jewish and Cuban communities are diasporas that dream of one day being reunited with their homeland, the sentiment is felt much more strongly at Versailles Cafe. Halle told me that people still picket Versailles Cafe with signs protesting the revolution, to which people respond cruelly, “Viva Castro!”. There is also a rock outside the restaurant with a plaque dedicating the rock to the Cuban exiles who are Cuban patriots and dream of returning to a free Cuba.

The food was also not Jewish (pork abounds) but it was darn good. I got the special– meatloaf, red beans and rice and fried plaintains for only $6.50. Halle got paella, which surprisingly had meat in it. We also got a side order of fried yucca with green dipping sauce (yum!), and Halle ordered a pitcher of sangria. Both the sangria and the food were very filling–Halle had her food wrapped up, but I had to scarf mine down because I knew I wouldn’t have a chance to eat leftovers.  We didn’t even have room for dessert.

We thought about walking around Calle Ocho afterwards, but, as Halle’s landlady/roommate Miriam had warned us, nobody walks around Calle Ocho at night. Not because it’s dangerous, but because it’s not a part of the city where people walk.  Halle spotted a cab and we took it back to the house. She slept while I drafted this blog.

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.