This is how the BBC made the announcement this morning:
I am trying to imagine how speculation will run wild in the next few days as everyone with an interest in Cuba starts to mouth off about US and Cuban relations. Even though Castro has announced he's stepping down I find it hard to imagine his slightly younger brother Raul will make huge changes when he is elected President on Sunday by Cuba's legislators.
I am trying to imagine how speculation will run wild in the next few days as everyone with an interest in Cuba starts to mouth off about US and Cuban relations. Even though Castro has announced he's stepping down I find it hard to imagine his slightly younger brother Raul will make huge changes when he is elected President on Sunday by Cuba's legislators. I don't think too much will change for a quite a long time around here, other than Cuban migrants getting in a ferment and embarrassing everyone as always with wild statements about how they are going to get back what's theirs in Cuba and so forth. Perhaps if they can contain their mad anger things will improve enough in the short run they will get to see their families as often as they want. Which would be nice.
Key Westers will be pinning their hopes on improved relations with Cuba to increase tourism but I think it will be a mixed bag, depending on what Cuban leaders manage to arrange with our next President (George Bush is a lost cause in foreign relations - even in Kosovo they are cheering Bill Clinton which I find a little...odd)
It's hard to imagine people by-passing Miami to come to Key West to fly to Havana. I wonder how the cruise ships will plot their futures when they have to choose between Key West and Old Havana? If they are generous they will include us as well in their itineraries. My fondest hope is for a high speed car/passenger ferry from Stock Island to Mariel, but that seems a long long way away, and rather trivial at this moment in history.
I think, when all's said and done, that nothing much will change between Cuba and the US until Fidel, the bearded One, is finally dead and all the heartache since 1959 is buried with him.
When my colleague took a 9-1-1 call about an accident on Highway One he had to make sure the wreck wasn't within city limits. That's because North Roosevelt Boulevard is technically US Highway One, even though it is a city street. Then he turned to us two in the room with him and asked quizzically: "Baypoint? Where's Baypoint? In the county?"
Bay Point is a peninsula that sticks out south of Highway One just about a mile or so, with a couple of dead ends and a few streets that form two surprisingly distinct communities in this small amount of space.
It's always crowded it seems like, in the winter and a motorcycle just makes sense for these expeditions into the hinterlands of the Florida Keys. Baby's Coffee marks the spot on Highway One where Bay Point sits, and there's a little grocery store next door, the kind of convenience store that people in the Keys can't seem to do without. Its known as the Halfway Store as it's mid point between Big Pine and Key West. Baby's has become the sort of frou frou grocery store that snowbirds seem to thrive in. 
They sell all those super expensive candies and cookies and sauces and pastes that you buy on vacation, fantasizing that the kitchen at home will suddenly become Aladdin's cave... but it doesn't! Unless you're my wife that is, but that's another hot sauce story. Baby's which was founded in downtown Key West still sells an honest cup of Joe for a buck including tax and their selections draw crowds.
Nowadays Baby's roasts its coffee somewhere around Homestead I believe, where labor costs and building rents are more reasonable, but moved its sole retail operation out to Mile Marker 15 after Duval Street rents started to go high enough to favor pornographic t-shirts over coffee sales. Behind the store is a county park, the sort of delicious public extravagance one associates with high property values, public income spent to benefit the local community:
I was sitting in the shade at a picnic table checking out Classic Bike while my coffee cooled a little. A local passed walking her dogs and got a greeting from a Baby's employee taking a smoke break behind the store:
Then my peaceful reading was interrupted by some cretinous customer who decided to take a leak in the bushes also behind the store next to the employee who was not blind. Emphatically not. She was a very loud female barista and she got a muted apology from the idiot. "And we don't just reserve the restroom for customers," she allowed to the dogwalker, a woman spared the sight of an elderly man attempting to pee into a tree. "What is wrong with people?" Which was way too philosophical a question for such a sunny President's Day. The most philosophy I could deal with was why did someone take on this boat project in the first place:
And I know for a fact that this country is absolutely bulging with backyard projects gone bad. When I see one here in the Keys it strikes me harder somehow. I imagine the happy boatbuilder reaching the end of the road and implementing a plan to cast off on the High Seas. Which naturally comes to naught, a bad habit, a woman, a family, obligations, los of nerve, Life; who knows what happens and the boat ends up high and dry. Catch Me indeed, I'm thinking fish are safe from this one. Back on land some people prefer to buy their projects intact and stick a manufactured home up on stilts; very popular and very neat:
Some people start their homes like boat plans and plant the framework for some stilts overlooking a dreamy scenic view:
There are the snowbirds who forget to come down for a winter or two and their plants blossom while their hurricane shutters stay tight shut:
I like to see the shutters open especially when they are these old 1950's style hurricane-bahama shutter style, popular on mobile homes of yesteryear with those old louvered windows underneath. Rotten for air conditioning great for nostalgia:
The eastern arm of Bay Point has the pricier homes on this island, with more on the way:
And I thought that was all there was to Bay Point, because I knew what this place was about.
It happened that a few years ago I was a tour boat captain and my boss bought himself a home on a canal at Bay Point. It was under $400,000 as I recall and he was over the moon at the bargain. The house was a concrete block structure, CBS, not on stilts and in terrible shape. It would have to be at that knock down bargain price... We captains went to work helping to install the wood paneled flooring which was quite a challenge as we all lived on boats and floors on a boat are something completely different. It took hours to figure out the jigsaw and get the corners to match up with the boss's anxious wife hovering and their new kid squalling and us captains scratching our collective heads at how to get the floor to go round corners and fit through doorways. It was a very late pizza and beer night for us at Bay Point.
The boss's house did look a deal better than this sorry shack for sale on the western arm of Bay Point, but cross a little bridge and you are in a world of trailers of all immaginable shapes, years and conditions:
The views remain spectacular no matter where you are when you look out on the water:
And back on the edge of Highway One there is a business for sale for an enterprising restaurateur. I never understood what was special about Knuckleheads, somebody's dream business which just translated into yet another sports bar restaurant selling television games and wings, and fried fish and beer, like any number of other, better established locales along the Highway. And there its, complete with handicapped parking and an airborne generator, ready for new owners to try their luck:
And look out at yet another spectacular view while they do:
For me it was time to roll home and meet the wife who had been off with a friend yard sale-ing and checking out a flea market. For some reason she found no junque worth bringing home so it was a splendid day all round.
Still sunny, still hot with a southwest breeze presaging another cold front to lower the 83 degree temperatures just a little bit, for a little while.
We have been inundated with rain the past few days. The National Weather Service says winds peaked at 55miles per hour and my car mechanic tells me bunches of his bananas that he was anxiously watching ripen got knocked off their stalks last night. Well, I told Donnie, he should been expecting a catastrophe, these were my two days off and most of my days off lately have been meterologically impaired.
Anyway the house has remained dry which is always a good thing, nighttime lows dropped briefly to a brisk 65 degrees requiring a liner in my mesh jacket, but daytime highs have been hovering around 75 degrees. As my buddy Jan put it last week before he caught the 'flu, winter is over; no more 50 degree cold fronts this year. We're still lucky by comparison to a lot of North Americans, for instance when they get strong winds and rain in the Pacific Northwest people lose their homes and their lives; down here they lose their bananas.
I went to the dentist Wednesday, which is a chore that I perversely quite enjoy. Dr Harris is a man with an enormous sense of humor and his hygenist is very patient with my stupid jokes and my tendency to nod off as she cleans my teeth. I find lying in the chair very relaxing and she has to keep prodding me to wake me up so I can open my mouth for her. I think I have good tooth genes, and as a kid I grew up with the dreaded Socialized Medecine which meant I got lots of (free) preventive care.
I came out of the dentist's office feeling very virtuous and as a reward the gods sent a brief break in the weather. The wind had switched to the southwest, a sure sign of an impending cold front and the sun was taking a chance and peeking through the clouds so it was time to whip out the camera for some pictures. I was driving the wife's convertible with a slow leak in a tire, which Donnie the mechanic took care of before the trip to the dentist, and I stopped at Higgs Beach to admire the ocean and to try to capture the turquoise colors of the sun on the water:
I parked next to Salute, the Italian restaurant on the beach and took a short walk. The ocean looks deceptively calm in these pictures, which is not to say the surf was up or anything but wavelets were pounding the sand, pounding hard enough to make it interesting for passersby:
I spent way too long in Santa Cruz California, home of the Surf Museum, to be impressed by the waves rolling in off the Straits of Florida, but at least there was neither fog nor freezing temperatures here. There weren't many people out at Higgs Beach thanks to the rain, but not everyone at the park was entirely aware of their surroundings, as usual, and the surroundings were quite worth keeping an eye on:
Higgs Beach is owned by Monroe County and they have been, in their insolvency, trying to palm it off on the City, which politely declines to take the beach over. The Key West Police Department patrols the beach by agreement with the Sheriff's Department as they, in turn, take care of City property on North Stock Island. Higgs has been a bit of a pain since the Sheriff, in a cost cutting measure, abolished beach patrols by two deputies who used to ride around on All Terrain Vehicles. The signs requiring decent behavior are everywhere, of course:
And from time to time the Conch Train trundles past the beach, where the driver repeats the joke about how the White Street Pier is actually the rump of the old road bridge to Havana 90 miles south...
The residentially challenged tend to dominate the picnic tables under the pavilions at Higgs Beach and they prove to be an endless source of irritation to local families who not surprisingly don't like to share their pork sandwiches and boliche with the homeless subjects in thier reeking cerements sprawled all over the pavilions.
Parents like to use Astro City across the street and they sometimes feel threatened by the antics of the drunks nearby so they let the police department know, and we send officers out in a round robin moving people along all the time. 
It is hardly what you might call an ideal situation but it is emblematic of the close living that is required of islanders, including unfortunately the youngsters, seen here going for a drive while mama takes a nap on the bench.
There are lots of different places to visit around Higgs Beach itself, including the Garden Club in the brick Martello Tower, and the White Street Pier offers a splendid view of the waterfor those in a contemplative mood. For sporting enthusiasts there's the bocce court at Indigenous Park across the from the pier, and tennis players do their thing on the courts acrossd the street from the restaurant:
A bicycle path runs along the waterfront, even though some cyclists lose their way in the shrubbery and end up creating their own obstacle course across the parking lot:
Alongside the restaurant with the beachfront view there's a rest room playfully covered in muriels of a particularly fishy sort. Some locals maintain their dapper appearance by using the beach shower intended to refresh swimmers, and the sinks in the restrooms intended to wash hands. Actually using the restroom can be an adventure for those of us who like to take our ablutions in the privacy of our own bourgeois homes:
People do tend to stay away from the beach because there are just too many bums they say. Too bad I say, because Higgs is the people's park, with its dog run, picnic tables and water views. We should all, even we the bourgeoisie have a slice of the recreational pie, especially on this small cramped island.
Yessiree, that's where I parked the Nissan, right there! where it says park... Our visiting relatives like plants so we took Cousins Bob and Lyn to see the Botantical Gardens on north Stock Island.
I like to park in the shade, even in winter, its force of habit in these parts, and a survivial technique in summer.
The Gardens have been expanding for a while and more expansion is planned in the rubble-filled area where the Monroe County Public Health building used to sit, now marked with an advertising sign:
In case there be any doubt at all, signs will tell the anxious visitor exactly how to proceed and what perils await within:
Even though the "donation" has increased from four dollars when last I was here to five whole dollars these days. I guess they have to fund the burgeoning signs somehow. And then there's the free paperwork. Cousin Lyn managed to persuade the overly enthusiastic front desk volunteer that she only needed one set of guides to the Gardens and still ended up with a fistful :
And the sergeant-major like volunteer at the gate was all over us when she learned the visitors were from out of town. She pretty much had their tour planned all the way till sunset (they never did make it to Mallory Square, those Chicago slackers).
I think the volunteers at the Garden are proud of their expanded flourishing oasis off College Road. They have a right to be because it has become quite the formal garden after many years of happy neglect. They built the visitors' center, they even stuck in a massive fountain, in a sort of amphitheater, whose purpose remains to me, somewhat obscure:
All this organizational efficency is a little hard for me to take, not just because I am a rebel at heart (who obeys the signs) but because I remember the good old days. Quelle drag, I am sounding like an old fart, because I've lived here too long.
In 2000, when I was living on my boat parked at Sunset Marina, just up the street I would spend lots of time wandering the gardens. In those good old days I would go home, pick up my Labrador Emma and we would wander the garden at will.
These days happily they still allow dogs on leashes which was the ignored rule back then too. Emma had the freedom of the garden, the gate hung open on a hinge, there was no visitor's center, or elaborate fountain or even a marked parking lot. I left the car tucked in a corner behind the shuttered Health Center and off we would romp, through the bushes along the barely marked trails. There was no entrance fee, not even disguised as a "donation" and just a few of the plants were labeled. Today the plants are catalogued.
At dusk there was an excellent chance of encountering a residentially challenged local subject bedding down under the bushes and at dawn one could occasionally meet a man arching his back comfortably as he watered those same bushes after he had packed up his camp. There were benches which made this an superb place for a pizza picnic, and on windy days I loved to sit out and alternately listen to Emma panting as she lumbered around, or to the wind whistling through the trees. It was my refuge, a place barely noticed by the mainstream population, tourists or monied donors.
It is progress and I have come to realise I must bow to it. Change is good, even if you can't have a picnic in the gardens anymore. Emma has long since gone to her reward but the gardens actually are pretty nice even if they are over organized. The new boardwalks are made of recycled plastic "wood" and are wheelchair accessible. 
The plants are labeled but the garden's essential air of mystery and its forest-like depth has been maintained and enhanced. And the dudes peeing in the bushes are, like Emma, banished to memory. In this case the substantial boundary fence keeps undesirables out. 
It was a very pleasant trip, a journey of discovery as I piloted Lyn and Bob from shade to sunlight, trundling down the boardwalk, past exotic ferns that elicited squeals of delight and grunts of puzzlement. Bob fingered this very gingerly as the photographic possibilities rolled through his brain. I just pointed and shot.
And so it was, the stroll got us back to the beginning, a very good place to start:
In the end in fact I came to the conclusion, reluctantly, that change can be good, and a five dollar entry fee, even if disguised as a "donation," can make for a greatly improved garden. Next time I will delight in parking in the clearly marked spaces and I shall stride into the visitor's center with joy in my heart. For this is the way of the new improved future, we may have nowhere to live but our Botanical garden will be second to none.