Today I am posting a few pictures from a walk with Rusty which was one our usual jaunt. Something of a sentimental journey perhaps but also a reminder that I think I’ve photographed everything there is to photograph in Old Town! You decide if it’s repetitive.
Who abandons a structure on Whitehead Street near Eaton? And why… a disputed inheritance? Too much stuff to manage? The mind boggles. Rusty loved it. I thought it disgusting.
Maybe my memory is fading from too much travel but I don’t remember this historic market discussing the cigar business in Key West.
Like everything else land even then was too expensive to sustain cigar factories so they went north and founded Ybor City near Tampa where land was plentiful at the end of Plant’s west coast railroad.
I parked opposite the Tropic as usual and then noticed the garbage bicycles clogging the rack. I guess drunks amusecthensrlvesvipdnding them and the owners … who knows? Rather unsightly.
I have found the rooster population swelling and rather aggressive. It’s as though they expect a treat from passersby. I prefer the quiet and dignified native ibis patrolling the streets but other tourists think these pests are delightful.
The madness of blowing dirt around at the expense of serenity continues and seems to increase. Recycling and renewable energy remain baffling incongruities in Key West, a city determined to ignore anything new fangled. But these old fangled blowers are everywhere working hard to improve the ambiance.
A solitary homeless woman in yellow and myself on Duval. I saw her later on Front Street glaring at me. She’s making Key West work for her and I admire her tenacity.
I try not to play the history game but I can’t help myself. I can’t remember anymore what it was before Starbucks but the charcuterie extravaganza has gone. Two other tourists stood staring at it wondering if it might open. I wanted to tell them to check Google who knows everything but I thought better of my impulse. Either they would be annoyed at me or start asking if I live here. A no exit gambit. I shut up.
Another quixotic venture selling art on Duval.
Bagatelle is still there selling meals at 115 Duval. Further down the Harley Davidson clothing store lost it’s display motorcycle but it too continues to function. How they do it selling nonsense I don’t know rents being what they are.
I saw an ad for a “cute but cozy” two bed one bath townhouse at the golf course on Stock Island. NO PETS. $3700 a month with First Lady and deposit which means more than ten grand to move in. It has “more than ample” parking though described in a horribly brutalized use of the English language. “More than ample” parking. WTF does that mean?
There it is: Duval Street.
There’s a good old memory when the owner of the Rick’s complex and former city commission member wanted to be mayor. It was a hopeless tilt at the windmill that is Mayor Johnston. She has taken up the wishes of the Spottswood family and is driving Key West to attract higher end tourists. Poor old Rossi tan on a platform supporting the common people. Mind you how real that was will never be known.
I don’t suppose anyone else finds the building of the former rooftop café covered in a horrid blue hurricane tarp to be the least bit ironic.
Rising sun,
Peeling paint,
Key West colors.
Stop Wall Street indeed.
The food was still good.
Stop Wall Street indeed.
The Pez Garden always worth a visit to learn some history.
I’m telling you the chickens are taking over.
Front Street filled with a front loader took me by surprise so my picture was a bit wobbly. I wouldn’t mind leading a procession driving a contraption like that.
That evening Layne and I took Rusty to our favorite seafood restaurant, Alonzo’s and with some trepidation. Luckily e en though staff wear a uniform t-shirt now and the interior is remodeled outside seating still works. A and B. Alonzo and Berlin’s.
The food was still good.
Clams and mussels and my favorite fried fish bites.
This and two beers was fifty bucks so you’ll be glad to know prices are still going up. We will get a lot of seafood for a thousand pesos in Mexico when we park the van at a taco stand in San Carlos next month.
Rusty enjoyed the view as we ate. He is no bother at all in public places. I am glad to spend every day with him.
