Cuban Coffee Queen

There is a new coffee shop in Key West, the 927th variation on well-worn theme; it so happens I rather like it. Location is the guarantor of success we are told by people who study good business practices, and the Cuban Coffee Queen is in a good location, between Waterfront Market and Turtle Kraals, in just the right, almost-waterfront place, to serve boaters and strollers of whom there are lots in this area.There is a little known illness in Key West that tends to afflict people after only a little while in town; travel becomes a chore. Imagine this: Fausto's grocery store has two outlets, one serving Old Town a block off Duval and another a whole mile away on White Street serving the rest of the metropolis. If they closed the White Street location no-one from New Town would bother to scoot five extra minutes to the Old Town location. People who live near Duval routinely decline to go to New Town based on it's distance (the whole island remember is four miles/six kilometers long...) and Stock Island (Mile Marker 5) is in the outer darkness of Deep Space. Thus it is that having a coffee shop and an inconvenience store (those little places with inconveniently high prices) every three blocks is a source of relief for travel-impaired Key Westers.
The Cuban Coffee Queen is more of a concept than a person as far as I can tell. He (clearly not a queen, quite masculine actually) made my coffee quickly and efficiently, while the woman is Hungarian(as I once overheard her telling a patron), which was no impediment to her pulling together a vast and delicious sandwich for me with equal attention to detail. They don't just make coffee either:
And for people confused by buchis (Cuban espresso shots), coladas (several buchis in a large cup to share in thimble sized cups usually) and con leches (liquid candy bars with lots of hot milk, drenching a buchi with sugar to taste) there is a handy, weatherproof explanation of the Cuban Coffee Queen's version: Not content with a sandwich list as long as your arm there is also the all-American blackboard:(I should have tried the mac and cheese now I think about it), and the other all-American invention is the voluntary tax deduction. The top dollar was the one I put in. If you can't afford the tip you can't afford the meal is a good rule to live by in expensive Key West.
They have a scooter for deliveries, this is just a piece of artwork, I'm pretty sure:The rooster is not real happily, though the large con leche is.

There are a couple of benches alongside the coffee shop, but what you see is what you get. All the food and drink comes out of here:The benches did not seem terribly appealing to me, as the food was large and deserved a table if I was to eat it cleanly. An uncharacteristic summer-type thunderstorm had blown over and the sun was shining again.

This was my six dollar sandwich, Cuban roast pork, a slice of ham, a slice of cheese, tomato, lettuce and fried onions. It was enough for two and it did not come in an un-ecological Styrofoam container for a change. My only problem was figuring out where to sit and eat this monster. I thought about Rest Beach, a long way away ( I suffer the travel disease too sometimes...) or possibly a bench alongside the harbor master's office at the nearby Key West Bight. Any sandwich would taste good overlooking the water.I ended up eating half and took the chips and candy cane with the other half to my wife in her classroom on my way out of town. She enjoyed it as much as I did.

That is, in fact half a sandwich!

Diagonally across the parking lot there is the convenience store called Caroline Street Market, but known informally locally as the Ay-rab Store(they are Bangladeshis that run it, but who's counting?) and they make their version of Cuban coffee:Close by there is Harpoon Harry's diner where you can get coffee with the infliction of TV whether you like that or not, and down the street a little further there is the Coffee Plantation that is rather more up market than a roadside hut. Lots of choices so one need never stagger too far to get a cup of coffee, whatever you end up calling it.

Copenhagen Addiction

They are gathered in Copenhagen, our leaders, and every time I read those words (I have no television reception) I think of the round tins filled with that nasty black goo some men like to chew, in the same way their counterparts in the Third World chew narcotic leaves to fend off the pain of reality. I dare say First World leaders at the Climate Change Conference in the Danish capital could do worse than chew tobacco from a tin, or chew coca leaves from a bush, as they ponder how to save us from ourselves. Or how to shoe horn us out of our Humvee addictions and into modest unmanly sedans like the little car on the left: I find it hard to believe that any useful thing will come from the chewing tobacco gathering in Denmark, where delegates are pondering whether to hold climate warming to 2C or 1.5C; I'm rather surprised they haven't passed a motion ordering the tides to comply. Already Third World delegates have walked out in protest, saying First World countries are refusing to give them enough money to offset carbon, those would the be the countries producing the most paying the countries producing the least in case you thought you misheard. I wonder what the Third World leaders are chewing to give them the illusion that they are going to make out like bandits from this conference? Coca leaves? The conference was billed as a way to get everyone on board with Anthropogenic (Human Caused) Global Warming, known for short as AGW, and to figure out ways to reduce carbon output by humans. What the conference is turning into instead, is a grand hand out by the First World to the Third. Which seems counter intuitive to me based simply on the Third World's record of not spending the money where it's supposed to go (Swiss banks are not supposed to benefit from charity donations to banana republic dictators). And if we in the world's most industrialized nation can't wean ourselves off our oil and carbon addictions, how can we expect a country filled with poverty to cut back whatever modest output of carbons they may be responsible for? How many African villagers does it take to produce as much CO2 as this Hummer traveling say, from Key West to Miami?
It beats me, but this Hummer, an overly obvious symbol of First World excess is not alone traveling on the Overseas Highway as you can see. And most of those other vehicles are single occupant rides too, producing their own carbon releases into the atmosphere. Yet back in Copenhagen... ...they are busy shooting each other down, blaming each other and reaching no useful consensus. Just like drug addicts in crack houses anywhere in the world. It's always somebody else's fault.

The thing is these are World Leaders I am talking about, the 21st century Moses leading us out of the wilderness of Sinai to a new promised land, a place of carbon neutrality, of modest consumptions, of local consumerism, of useful industrialization. To be an AGW skeptic is to be a heretic, is to be someone who refuses to face reality and by so doing puts the planet at risk. It's hard though not to be skeptical when one observes the actual behavior of our leaders, who preach change and give us business as usual, who can't curb their own excesses but expect their neighbors too do so. If they know the actual threat posed by Anthropogenic Global Warming and they cannot do anything meaningful about it, what are we the people supposed to do? Quit driving? Take cold showers to conserve propane? Turn off the air conditioning? What? Perhaps we should chew qat leaves:But there again despite the requirement that we disconnect belief from reality we are prohibited from consuming narcotics unless a major corporation somewhere makes an obscene profit off them. Reach for the beer and the Valium not the unprofitable leaves. AGW may very well be a clear and present danger to all of us but you wouldn't know it from the antics of our leaders. Peak Oil is going to double gas prices sooner or later and when it does presumably the cost of producing CO2 will get out of reach for many of us and perhaps then we will be forced to modify our behavior. Until then I guess we all of us in our different ways, remain addicted to our chew of choice, oil, coca, qat, carbon or just the pleasure of wielding meaningless power in a world gone mad.

Vignettes XXIX

Yesterday I spotted this sign on Stock Island's College Road and it is new to me:Since when has the formerly upscale, all floating dock, well protected from hurricanes, Sunset Marina felt the need to advertise it's presence? And with such a tacky, soda-infested banner ? Standards are dropping in parallel with the economy and I am glad I no longer live there!

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This sign made me laugh out loud. Painted on a stairway for an ascending patron the intent is clear, even if the execution allows the message to be read backward:I am easily amused.

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Not so amusing was street blockage on Angela Street alongside the cemetery. I understand that sometimes M'Bubba has an urgent communication for a neighbor and feels compelled to stop and share the news right there on the street without bothering to pull over and park. However for a commercial operation loading debris to fill the street like this seems rather...inconsiderate? Isn't that why God invented wheel barrows?

Unlike the poor sap in the PT Cruiser I am an able backer and I reversed fifty yards in one fell swoop back to Margaret Street and circled the block. It was actually as easy in the dog-laden Nissan as it might have been on the Bonneville.

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The general subject matter for this essay ("pointlessness") was prompted by the next picture. Unlike more accomplished photographers I use a small pocket Canon SX100 which not only uses double A batteries so I never run out of juice as they are available anywhere in an emergency, but it is also always to hand. Sometimes I take pictures just because, without knowing exactly why. That's why this blog is my diary and it is, in a sense, a repository for all my random thoughts. One thought that comes to mind frequently and is brought up in the Citizen's Voice even more frequently is why do people bother to blow leaves around? Obviously this guy is acting on orders, but the question remains.

It's another source of noise pollution (and CO2 let's not forget!) and serves no useful purpose. Like I said, I am easily amused and the idiocy of blowing leaves around while burning dead dinosaurs seems bizarre to me. Whatever happened to dust pans and brushes?

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We need Irondad to step in here. This scooter is so badly parked I can only assume (and make an ass of myself!) it is a practical piece of transportation for some cager, not an enthusiast of two wheels. I find it odd that "bikers" think that riding a scooter should somehow be beneath them, though in Key West where scooters are used as daily workhorses, more so than any other US city, most scooter riders would laugh if you called them "motorcyclists." And frequently it shows. You'd be amazed at the number of flip flop riders dragging their feet when in motion, riding gear is never in evidence and rules of the road are followed about as often by scooters as by cyclists. Not that I'm complaining, I'm just observing. I like that adults (with health insurance) don't have to wear helmets in Florida. I don't always wear one myself, and my wife hates wearing hers. However when it comes to parking I have a different take on it. Parking a scooter or a motorcycle is so simple I wonder why one rider thinks it's okay to dump the scooter (downhill, facing the curb no less) in such a way as to occupy the whole space. Anyone else wanting to use the abbreviated spot will need to move this machine to make room.

It's not labeled as scooter parking but anything bigger than a Smartfortwo wouldn't fit. Perhaps it is meant for sidecar parking if not scooters? I'm thinking it was the room left over on the street (Frances if you're interested) and the city hasn't got around to striping and labeling it yet.

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I've seen this car around town and the driver shows no particular aptitude for speed, and no obvious driving skills but the spoiler is firmly attached to make his little Hyundai more...what exactly? "Zoom zoom" was Mazda's advertising years ago when I had television. Maybe he heard it while in the womb and it left it's mark. Sometimes when I pull the Bonneville alongside cars with racing mufflers I make "zoom zoom" noises while sitting on my factory muffled Triumph. I hope it embarrasses them to hear the old man next to them " broom brooming" through his gray beard and pulling away from the light before they can even release the brake.

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And here we have a series of photographs to explain why the Honda Ruckus scooter should never have become as fashionable as it has. Saddlebags on a scooter??
Well yes, I took the second picture in the parking lot of Bank of America on Flagler and there they are, leather bags dangling off the 50cc Ruckus. The reason is the Ruckus has no luggage space at all on it's trellis frame:Vroom Vroom. However this (I think) Taiwan Golden Bee has under seat, weatherproof, lockable storage and an optional basket trimly secured to the rack. Convenience and style, says I. I live with saddlebags because I have to. My wife with her Vespa ET4 doesn't have to. That's the whole point of scootering.

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Bayside Landing in Big Coppitt is coming close to completion. This new housing development faces Highway One across from the Shell station (where I dropped the Bonneville last June, actually...)and they are putting up the last few homes there. It's been a long difficult road.

I am sure it comes as no surprise that some neighbors protested loudly about this Habitat For Humanity development appearing next door. They belonged apparently to either NIMBY (Not In My Back Yard) or the BANANA schools of thought. That would be "Build Absolutely Nothing Anywhere Near Anything". Well, you can understand that, who wants poor people cluttering up the neighborhood? Happily a few of the candidates for housing here, bank tellers, clerks, government employees and the like, got overwhelmed by the cost of living in a crap economy and have left the Keys. Which I suppose will help to justify future attempts to keep working people from owning their own homes in the Keys. Slow them down enough and eventually they will give up. Aren't people great? (My neighbors, the sole nice couple on my street, said they have applications pending to quickly fill the available spaces).

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In case you get lost or panic stricken in the event of a hurricane, the Great State of Florida has put up some useful signs along the newly designated Highway Of National Importance.

Any other direction will get you drowned in short order, and it won't do your car much good either.

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I should applaud this tourist's determination to document his visit to the Keys, with his patient passenger slumped in the Sebring while he photographed Boca Chica bridge.

Instead I wonder why he doesn't just lift pictures from Key West Diary? She would be so much less impatient and he could do it from the comfort of his home.

The Vampire Squid

"The Great American Bubble Machine" is the title of an article by Matt Taibbi in Rolling Stone magazine that I have been meaning to read for a while. In it he describes how Goldman Sachs, "the great vampire squid wrapped around the face of humanity" is creating investment bubbles and squeezing the life out of the world's economy for it's own profit. If you have read this article already, good for you but I only got around to it this afternoon on my sickbed and it is astonishing stuff. So at last I understand why petroleum prices shot up last year...Even though I already understood the CDO issues Taibbi does a masterful job of explaining them in language anyone can understand. (If reading the word "fucked" in a magazine article bothers you, stick your head back in the sand and don't click on the link. Please). I keep thinking about how we will, some of us, look back and wonder how we allowed the United States of America to devolve into a Third World Oligarchy. Click on the link or Google Matt Taibbi and Rolling Stone to read the seven pages of amazing exposes for yourselves. It's well worth it and a better horror story than any teen vampire flick at the movies. Though I do enjoy thinking of Goldman Sachs ("doing God's work") that way.
http://www.rollingstone.com/politics/story/29127316/the_great_american_bubble_machine/1

An excerpt:

And here's the real punch line. After playing an intimate role in four historic bubble catastrophes, after helping $5 trillion in wealth disappear from the NASDAQ, after pawning off thousands of toxic mortgages on pensioners and cities, after helping to drive the price of gas up to $4 a gallon and to push 100 million people around the world into hunger, after securing tens of billions of taxpayer dollars through a series of bailouts overseen by its former CEO, what did Goldman Sachs give back to the people of the United States in 2008?

Fourteen million dollars.

That is what the firm paid in taxes in 2008, an effective tax rate of exactly one, read it, one percent. The bank paid out $10 billion in compensation and benefits that same year and made a profit of more than $2 billion — yet it paid the Treasury less than a third of what it forked over to CEO Lloyd Blankfein, who made $42.9 million last year.

How is this possible? According to Goldman's annual report, the low taxes are due in large part to changes in the bank's "geographic earnings mix." In other words, the bank moved its money around so that most of its earnings took place in foreign countries with low tax rates. Thanks to our completely fucked corporate tax system, companies like Goldman can ship their revenues offshore and defer taxes on those revenues indefinitely, even while they claim deductions upfront on that same untaxed income.

Click the link for more. I can't recommend it enough. There's stuff you know mixed in with stuff you don't and the mixture is entirely fascinating and toxic.

Boca Chica Beach

I was out here with my camera in 2008 and a year and a half later things have changed just a little bit. In my April 18th 2008 essay I referred back to my visits here with my elderly Labrador Emma who died in December 2006. She liked to sit in the sand, take a little swim and hang out with me at the picnic table while I read a book. She was old by then but still able to totter around. I have missed her terribly:

Now I am back with my new-to-me Labrador Cheyenne:The road used to be a good bit longer before one of the storms of 2004 or 2005 washed it out. I am pretty sure it was damage caused by Hurricane Wilma, but my memory is getting a bit vague about the details there were so many storms in those two years. I remember Wilma plastered trash on all the military fencing around the Boca Chica airbase to a height of four feet where the flood waters crested.

Beyond the barricade the old road goes on for another quarter of a mile getting narrower as the kudzu pushes in from the sides:Out to sea the gin palaces were busy the afternoon I was walking along the shore. Winter is the season for boat travel through the Keys:
The beaches are covered in washed up seaweed and Cheyenne, unlike Emma, has apparently never been taught to enjoy the water. This will change next summer when I will give lessons:The old state road around the south side of Boca Chica used to cross to Stock Island on trestles and the road was accompanied by electrical wires which are now reduced to individual poles, looking like survivors of a disaster:Birds, possibly pelicans.People come out here to enjoy a little moonlight and campfires and the like.And piled up on shore is a jumble of cement, the old road barricades now rendered obsolete by the destruction of the road further back. This is all a pedestrian area and even bicycles have a hard time up ahead:You Have Been Warned!

All the fuss about a nude beach proposed for the city of Key West is about ways to make money. People have been taking their clothes off around here for ages, and now I guess it's common knowledge. And no one was a charging an entry fee. I wondered if I should remove Cheyenne's collar as a precaution.More gin palaces (which is a derogatory term frequently used by sailors when speaking about excessively ostentatious motorboats) buzzing about:The old road is long gone and the newer footpath that replaced it has apparently washed out as well. It used to be you could ride a bike down here without too much trouble:

Cheyenne was enjoying rooting around like a pig after truffles under the Navy fence:Inland, in the distance one can see the Boca Chica Naval Air Station control tower:And here is evidence of at least one cyclist giving up the struggle in the absence of the old trail:This dude was striding along in espadrilles with his chair firmly on his shoulder. He was watching where he was going; being careful was a necessary precaution thanks to the slippery rocks underfoot:We exchanged remarks about the suitability of dogs rescued from the pound as he paused on his way back to the cars. We too decided it was time to head back. Visitors to the Keys are frequently disappointed by the quality of the beaches around here, and swimming off Boca Chica "Beach"leaves a lot to be desired. Not least because the water is shallow for a long way out, currents keep dead sea grass on the waterline and the shore is filled with nasty rocks:Fighters from the Naval Air Station were out practicing, a common sight above Big Coppitt. They make a fair bit of noise and not everyone who chooses to live near the Navy Base is aware of that. That's a cause of controversy which has produced a nice crop of local bumper stickers. Stuff like "I love Navy noise" or "I support the sound of Freedom" being common sights on cars around here.A strong economy is a sound I like even better but that concept is a bit too complicated for thoughts limited to the length of a bumper sticker. Birds fly around too:I'm pretty sure these are more pelicans. It's their time of year.I met this dog on the path. His name he said was Crumley though I'm not sure of the spelling. He was snatched from the pound in Boston and he is a sprightly four year old.

He was rather more sprightly than Cheyenne wanted to keep up with. I understand Crumley enjoys splitting his time between Boston and the Keys and I expect I will see more of him as time goes by.Dog ownership is another of those sub cultures. Like motorcycling. Or living in the Keys.