There were two reasons my wife and I decided in 2003, not to go ahead and get off the boat and buy an apartment on Love Lane. One was that it was tiny and in terrible shape. The other was that I don't think I could ever bring myself to announce to the world at large that I lived on "Lurve Lane." Yes that's right, I live in a two hundred thousand dollar rabbit hutch, all 300 square feet of it with warped floors, peeling paint, window air conditioning and a curtained nook for a bedroom. Oh and by the way it's on Love Lane. Nudge nudge, wink wink, say no more. Which is to say I have no clue why this charming little alley has such a provocative name. Were we in France L'Allee de l'Amour would ring charmante, mais we are in Puritan America and love equals sex in some unfortunate circles. The alley itself is entirely charming, short and sweet and has absolutely nothing improper about it:
As is the way in Key West the abundant growth of all sorts of wickedly romantic palm fronds gives the most mundane home on the dreariest street a special flavor. However Love Lane is fortunate enough to have abundant greenery and charming Conch cottages:
But the lane is easily located as it is next to the little park which itself is part of the library at 700 Fleming. This is a view looking out at Fleming Street with the library and its little park to the left:
The Fleming half of the lane dead ends into someones picket fence and the ubiquitous bougainvillea, of course, which I am slowly learning to despise:
But one can still spot some blue sky between all the flora:
Then there is Love lane from the Southard Street side which has a proper sign and everything, photographed at the top of this essay, next to my wife's 150cc Vespa which I'm borrowing while the Trumpet gets a new front tire. As I fumbled around here a man peered over his balcony at me and stared a moment.
"You're that guy," he said slowly but with certainty. "You're the scooter guy." He looked puzzled so I explained the absence of the green Triumph Bonneville. He was very nice about the blog and gave me the (complicated) name of his, which I was unable to recover, so he needs to drop me a comment with it spelled out if he reads this.
Love Lane embodies I think many of the ideals of Conch visitors; those people who think living in Key West cheek by jowl with their neighbors would be fun. This serene backwater is just two blocks from Fast Buck Freddie's on Duval:
Imagine actually living here, with your scooter parked under a bush right outside your door, or a car if you absolutely need one to get away from time to time ( I love getting away!), and always assuming you have a stronger backbone than I do when it comes to that love thing, this is all that Key West promotes itself as: a tropical paradise...
Charming isn't it? Though how they get that modest sized car in and out of it's off street parking (OSP in Realtor talk) space I don't know. With a shoe horn perhaps.
So, because I'm not a realtor there are a few reality checks to bear in mind. This place is in the middle of Old Town so it will be noisy. Tourists love chickens, sleepless residents less so:
Aircraft land almost overhead as they aim for the runway, and because everything is close on a small island the runway is not far and the planes are low and loud:
And window air conditioning is still around bless its uncomplicated, noisy, rattling, inefficient heart:
It may seem perverse but I like living out of town, and at a time when cheap oil is a mirage I should be thinking about how to reduce my commute, but the cheek by jowl thing just isn't me. And then do you suppose all neighbors are as conscientious as this plastic bagged walker across the street:
