Tuesday, November 19, 2013

Ruminations On The Denizens Of Mallory Square

I think being homeless and choosing to hang on the streets has got to be the most boring life. That doesn't include those of the altered mental state, or the traumatically brain scrambled veterans, the addicts and drug worn wrecks, the emotional cripples, the spiraling impoverished. They are just the debris of a society where one percent of the population takes home ninety five percent of the income. Recently I read the Republican majority in Congress cut 80 billion dollars a year from the food stamp program. A good tax saving move right? Sure, until you remember if you even know, that the Federal Reserve creates 85 billion dollars a month out of fresh air just to keep the big banks and their clients solvent. Where all this will end no one knows but perhaps this guy reading a paperback at Mallory Square knows something we don't know:

Key West is such a mishmash of people that I am hard pressed sometimes to remember that everywhere isn't like this. Just the other day I watched some tourists stare in astonishment at a local residentially challenged man on the sidewalk enjoying the music at Willie T's. I wondered where they were from that they had never seen a homeless dude free to wander the sidewalks. I don't recall what these visitors in Mallory Square were puzzled by, take your pick.

The things that make Key West a good place to live are for the most part on display and free for all. An ocean view and a seawall to sit on for instance. It's true that the cost of living here tends to be higher but you don't have to sit on a bar stool drinking expensive alcohol to enjoy this town.

The homeless problem in Key West is causing a lot of discussion especially as the city has caved on the lawsuit brought against it by the owners of an expensive condominium complex near the free homeless shelter. The mayor wants to create a new shelter that won't simply house people but that will rehab them which seems like a long shot to me as rehabilitation isn't on the agenda of the hard core true street bums. People seeking help can find it already at the various NGOs around town.

Florida law requires jurisdictions to offer a free safe place to sleep before they can enact laws against public camping, hence the creation of the homeless safe zone. The problem is this fundamental law isn't mentioned by people who want the homeless "gone." These are the same profound thinkers who argue that when the homeless are shipped to the county hurricane shelter in Miami before a storm they should be forced to stay on the mainland after the storm is over. As though Miami wants our street people.

Mallory Square exemplifies this Key West duality. Oddly enough the center of tourism and a main hang out for street people is named for Stephen Mallory a Florida Senator from Key West whose principal claim to fame is his service to the Confederacy as Secretary of the Navy in the devastating 19th century effort to promote human slavery. Weird but true, we celebrate a Key West attorney in the name of this place who turned against his country. Yet Stephen Mallory if you read about his fascinating life, in his own way exemplifies this duality of which I speak, a reluctant secessionist and capable naval administrator in the service of slavery in which he didn't really seem to believe. Interesting indeed.

The paradox of cash generating Key West intersecting homeless Key West is made all the more...paradoxical by the fact that the simple act of the sun setting has become central to the tourist experience in Key West. Get this, the sunset celebration at Mallory Square has become an actual business with its own website History of Sunset Celebration in Key West. I like the story of Tennessee Williams raising a toast to a superb performance by the setting sun putting on an act for the viewers at the water's edge. It's silly enough which makes it even more amusing that that little effort by a writer living out his own sunset years pickled in alcohol has been transmogrified into the dust catcher sales event of the day in a city where anything to make a buck is the way of life.

And up against the chamber of commerce's drive to lower salaries and gentrify the city with more wealthy non working people, this hardy band of do nothings lounge around dirty and smelly and apparently unmovable in the face of societal rejection. Don't get me wrong they aggravate me because I am a worker bee paying taxes etc.. But the reason I am a dispatcher and not a cop is that I have this dreadful ability to see both sides of a coin and I get paralyzed by the view. I don't want to talk to these people, I don't want to know them by name like the cops do, I don't want to arrest them or handle their grubby identity papers. I run them to check for warrants for the officers but I am separated by the radio from the reality of their street lives. Yet I admire their resilience.

They are like the roosters and chickens, a source of wonderment for outsiders yet like the chickens the homeless make a mess of where they live, and like the homeless I could do without them and the chickens both...

Fishing is another great low cost sport with the chance of taking home some protein. My boss is in love with a Canadian who has the misfortune to make an excellent living in the oil fields of Alberta's very frozen North. He recently came back to Key West on vacation and went out for the first time on a boat for five hours to catch fish. "He's got Keys disease ..." My boss laughed noting he did not want to go back to the tundra. "He wants to fish everyday," she said. But Jessica and I know the reality of living here and though it should be one of fishing all day every day that's the pleasure reserved for tourists.

For instance I can't stand free range chickens, they are noisy and messy kicking dirt everywhere and the insects they eat could as well be eaten by quiet dignified native birds like the gentle stepping ibis. But the chamber sells them as a tourist attraction claiming they are descended from Cuban fighting roosters. Which is nonsense as roosters don't breed and if you check art work by people like Mario Sanchez depicting the early part of last century you won't see roosters included in his ultra-realistic street scenes. My skepticism notwithstanding tourists love to point cameras at the feathered rats.

If you take Mallory Square at face value it's a hell of a place to walk or bike or even, yes indeed, watch the sunset. It's a great open space in a city deprived of enough land to have expansive spaces.

Mallory Square's problem is that it carries the burden of too many expectations, mine and yours included. These guys look scary to middle class America, a class of humans seemingly scared by their own shadows these days, but Key West's homeless folk are not to be feared. They are humans and they bully the weak and have expectations of their own, principally focused on free food and hand outs and preying on guilt and fear. I look them in the eye and say good morning and move on. I give them money if they have the balls to ask because I don't think its easy to ask for charity, god knows I have a problem even asking for help sometimes, but they don't hurt people. They live hopeless lives of fear themselves, and they know in a dispute they start out with no credibility and no hope of being heard.

I enjoy hearing from the mystical thinkers who claim the US is a country "based on Judeo Christian principles" though what a Judeo Christian principle is exactly I know not and explanations make no sense to me Judeo-Christian seems to me is is a way of trying not to alienate Jews when you want everyone to live as Jesus taught. Yet when you go back to the Sermon on the Mount squaring the beatitudes with the way we think of and treat the homeless in our midst you know there is nothing Christian about public pronouncements on this subject. The money changers would run Jesus out of town on a rail today.

I figure the best way to deal with this problem is to ramp up social services to deal with them professionally. The peanut gallery says lefties like me should take a homeless dude home to solve the problem. I say the Judeo Christians should do just that in a Biblically inspired way but it's apparent none of us want to deal with them personally so I guess the government is the last resort if we want to reclaim our public spaces. And I can only think some government agency other than 911 would be more apposite and able to do the job right especially as most of the homeless have mental issues. Mojitos at El Meson would taste better bum free in my opinion. And you can check out Pepe's Menu here.

I guess I'm not the only one pushed into a contemplative mood by the complexities of Mallory Square:

And some of us see ghosts where none appear to the rest of us. Perhaps alcohol had unbalanced him or the weight of a life too hard to manage. I didn't want to get involved in his madness thank you. Do you?

Ah youth, all possibilities lie ahead, answers come easily and questions rarely are open ended.

Above the woman's head in the picture below you can see the landing craft that services Sunset Key, home to the extremely wealthy, vacation destination to members of the President's Cabinet, the powerful people who prefer not to see the wreckage of their policies on their doorstep. It says a lot to me that they prefer to separate themselves from us when they vacation. President Truman used to walk around town exercising his legs, accompanied by a bodyguard who stood back as the President shook the hands of ordinary people on the street exercising their right to meet their elected leader whether they agreed with his policies or not.

I don't like the way things are going but I don't have answers, just queries. I wonder why fear is such a pervasive sentiment in a country that became great by believing in itself, that burst with childish confidence that carried the world with it. Nowadays we export manufacturing and good jobs, we allow appalling wealth inequality and pretend climate change isn't happening. In the bad old days we'd have rolled up our sleeves and debated solutions and worked to make things better for future generations. Now we leave it all up to China of all places. I'm relieved I have no children so the future for me is rather short term.

Nowadays we tell ourselves we can't afford to take care of each other, the homeless and the poor and gays are immoral in their own ways and foreigners hate our freedom. Weird that because it's our own National Security Agency the one we pay for, that is illegally wire tapping all our lives, and the people who expose those taps are labeled traitors by our embarrassed leaders. It's our corporations that deny us health care coverage which many freedom hating foreigners take for granted in their second rate countries. We prate about the second amendment and forget the fourth and sixth because they aren't as sexy and simple as guns.

I like to think we will find our way back to a land of lawful optimism and seek measured solutions but for now I guess we are doomed to lurch from crisis to crisis until enough of us get sick of it and demand sensible change from people we've elected who aren't radicals of left or right. Perhaps the crashing sound of unbearable debt will bring us back to our senses but who knows...

Meanwhile I plan to enjoy the sunsets and my dog and my motorcycle and the absence of snow and the people around me who wonder what the next act of the drama will be. I like to think Key West will remain south of reality whatever that happens to be and sunsets will continue as usual whether or not paupers or princes are at Mallory Square to watch.

 

Monday, November 18, 2013

Pink Crocs

Readership numbers have climbed significantly so I feel the need to explain why I wear pink Crocs when out walking. Years ago my wife offered to buy me a new set of shoes and asked what color I wanted I said whatever and ignored her pretty much. As one does. She came back from the flea market with a pink pair and asked how I felt about that. Fine I said. And I was. And then when I discovered a lot of people were afraid to talk to me in weird pink shoes it got better. I figure if they put people off only boring people would be put off by them so it was a wining choice all round. Then, get this, the Birkenstock store offered me all the pink Crocs in men's size 12 I could handle as they couldn't sell them....I was hooked on pink. Today I was downtown so I stopped by the shop and they had four pairs sold to me for $17:50 each. I loaded up two shopping bags and gloated all the way back to my wife'a car.
 

I wear these things and thus I wear them out but I figure I'm good for 18 months, possibly two years with this haul. They are great for walking Cheyenne through mud or puddles, salt water or even on the streets and they are excellent boat shoes. They look odd and they scream something extra odd in pink but they work for me. They should for you too as daily footwear.

Onlywood Restaurant, Key West

George is going back to Prague to enjoy an icy Czech winter soon so we decided to have dinner together one last time before he retreats to the frozen wastes of Central Europe. I mean you have to admire a man's eccentricity, where most people would enjoy winter in the Southernmost City, this particular one turns his back on his second home in Old Town and girds his loins for a winter even he describes as likely to be harsh. Ten degrees Fahrenheit anybody?

That or a shirt sleeve winter enjoying dinners al fresco under the cerulean winter sky particular to Key West. I will be delighted to keep the home fires burning for him.

The menu page from the website italian pizza restaurant should be legible. Basically you get appetizers, pasta pizza and meat chicken and fish dishes. If you are used to Italian American food this style may come as a surprise.

The bruschetta was my choice. I wanted to see how this proper Italian restaurant would handle this American favorite. The waiter was glad to hear me pronounce it properly, with a "k" sound, not a "ch" sound as English speakers tend to do. I did not explain my secret ancestry.

George chose a bottle red which was produced in my hidden corner of Italy, much to my surprise. Our Brands -Vitiano - Winebow, Vitiano is from Montecchio in the province of Terni. It was robust and went well with dinner. I had pesto pasta with shrimp, an odd combination I've not had before but George a fan of this restaurant, assured me it works. It did too, I woofed it.

George had a four pork pizza and he generously offered me a slice. I liked it a lot. The crust was properly thin but it wasn't dry and crisp, it retained a suppleness you'd be surprised to see in a crust so thin. It was also not greasy, which is a quality I enjoyed a lot. I am not a fan of overloaded pizza, or crust filled with melted cheese as modern chains advertise.

I ordered an American coffee to refresh me for the ride home and I got a soup tureen full. The spoon in the picture is a full sized implement...I rather suspect Americano coffee here is made with something stronger than the soft gentle coffee many Americans prefer. "Soup" (brodo) my buddy Giovanni calls it.

We sat inside as the evening was rather humid once again. Cold fronts are coming fast and thick, bringing strong winds and momentary drops in temperature but soon temperatures seem to go back up. We still await the strong front to break the back of Fall.

The interior of the place is nicely done. We ate unfashionably early but by the time we had drifted through the meal two hours later the place was filling up.

And they do actually have a real live wood burning pizza oven. It does a nice job.
A life time lived in the Czech Republic has given George a rather formal outlook. Damned if he wasn't busy making more reservations. I am rather less organized and actually reserving a table seems a highly unlikely activity in Key a West. I am going to try to be more prepared in future. Davide the owner was very accommodating.
I did finally break my silence, "Oh" he exclaimed, "you're Italian!" " You never said anything," the waiter laughed. We exchanged pleasantries and off we went,

...into the warm November night. I wish George and his family well this winter, and look forward to seeing him when he gets back. If he survives the snow.

 

Sunday, November 17, 2013

The World's Most Expensive Twinkie

When I take a shower in the middle of the day Cheyenne knows I'm heading to work without her. So she gets on the couch and pretends to sleep. That I was going in to town to see a movie didn't register with my dog as she can't tell the difference between shorts and long pants. She just knows she is being abandoned so she gets on the couch and makes me feel guilty. Good dog.
The true pain in the ass of living up Highway One is the oddball stuff that happens along the road. A roll over by some poorly trained teenage driver will close access for hours. A tanker crashing and catching fire could cut us off from Miami for a couple of days- no bad thing in itself of course but road closures are annoying. Because this is the Overseas Highway lots of groups think it would be cool to use our main drag to "raise awareness" of some cause or another. Anyone out there not "aware" of cancer? Human trafficking is a new favorite celebrity boredom chaser. I have no idea what the cyclists were making me aware of Saturday morning but I became very aware of the fact that they weren't using our new expensive bicycle path in the places where it is freshly paved and lovely. Instead they stuck their spandex bums in our faces, ran the red lights on Stock Island while cars showing support for all this important awareness paced the cyclists while waving white flags out of their windows. I was very good and sat back and enjoyed the approach to Key West at human powered cycle speed.
The sad part is that our effort to enjoy some local cultural activities fell flat on its face as the movie was a total bust. The Key West International Film Festival seems to be run by twelve year olds who when informed by me that their website sucked and I couldn't buy tickets online they responded by looking at me like I was their grandpa who had soiled his diaper once again. Which could explain why only two dozen wooly heads were in the theater to watch Big Sur a film about Jack Kerouac going through a horrendous bout of depression on the cold dank Central California Coast where I used to live. Redwoods and otters, fog and crashing waves are considerably less enticing when you've spent many years among them and know how cold and wet and windy that rugged coast really is. Give me the flat warm waters of the Keys any day. The plot unspooled inside the brain of a writer hellbent on hating everyone, a group of people left as two dimensional cyphers by the film's writer such that I realized that Key West at lunch time held far more appeal than Big Sur on the silver screen. So, my wife said as we crept out of Jack Kerouac's latest alcohol fueled death hallucination, how about Blackfin Bistro?
We strolled to the 900 block of Duval and I was looking forward to this pretty little Bistro where I have wanted to eat for some considerable time. It may be that the movie depressed me but I think I was on an even enough emotional keel to realize that this was not good value for money shortly after we arrived. Well, at last you have got this place off your chest my wife said tartly as we admired the menu. Soup du jour was expensive so we went with a small bowl of eight dollar gazpacho. And two other appetizers washed down by tap water came to 36 dollars including state sales tax.
I like to think that this is not a restaurant that uses ingredients off the Sysco truck, which criss crosses Old a Town early every morning selling "Food Products" whatever they are. I glumly approved the presentation of our first shared dish, shrimp and polenta, an upscale version of the Key West classic shrimp and grits. Pretty enough but two shrimp and a postage stamp sized piece of polenta for fourteen bucks was rough. I earn twenty four bucks an hour so subtracting taxes etc I have to work at least 45 minutes to buy this morsel. Ho hum.
We had goat cheese croquettes next with sweet onion slivers and drizzled with honey but sauce free. Twelve bucks for this dish and luckily they use quality goat cheese as the cheaper stuff I do not like as it reeks of goat to my delicate sensibilities. However a wodge of fried cheese does not a luncheon make. We could have had a main course for thirty bucks but the menu was not imaginative, sandwiches salads and sirloin steak, and all I could think was that Santiago's Bodega on Petronia is a warm inviting place where Blackfin's acoustics prevented us conversing across our table, Santiago's wine list excites my curiosity and we get a ton of tapas for the same money. Sitting up all night taking 911 calls to pay for this does not compute. Bummer.
I am not a compulsive restaurant goer and as time goes by I am more and more inclined to buy quality to go food, have a picnic or eat at home on the couch (with Cheyenne snoozing on her bed thank you). I know Dion's fried chicken isn't fine dining, bad boy burrito is just a funny sandwich, and a Cuban sandwich is packed with calories but value for money makes a treat taste good. Hell's teeth I can make a plate of pasta for pennies and I know I like the wines in my cooler at home. I am astounded how many people I see packing these restaurants day after night after day in Key West and they seem to love spending money in places I feel no affinity for, so I feel like I am missing something at BlackFin Bistro, Key West.
For some reason Kilwins a newish chocolate shop has been nudging the edges of my consciousness. Two of my colleagues love this place, two tightwad hot blooded, opinionated Cuban women who started batting around the idea if having ice cream and candy apples after work one day. I was surprised by their vehemence but I ignored them, calorie conscious me. Ha! Then my wife, as we played tourist on Duval yesterday suggested pudding at Kilwin's out of the blue. Okay I said, always the follower and never the leader (I tried at Backfin) when it comes to menu making. Kilwins Key West is some kind of franchise thing with those bland corporate "values" Head Office likes to sentimentalize like "having fun" on the job, which sounds like a substitute for a benefits package, as usual. The chocolates speak for themselves without any need for Orwellian sales talk. They are good. The one I had was at any rate.
The kid at the front expressed the proper corporate sentiments and offered us a taste of fudge. I thought that would do my wife but she was ready to buy. Kilwins was the antidote to the cultural shortcomings of the weekend thus far. I haven't yet mentioned our foray to the Red Barn Theater Friday evening to see a new play written by an actual Key West resident who has had a career I am told selling dust catchers on television. This guy goes by the name of Bobby Bowersox, which sounds like an alliterative stage name but not so apparently, and he used to make a living selling zirconium whatsits on one of those shopping channels. Anyway he wrote a play and the Red Barn put it on and we went to see it. The setting was an Irish pub in Philadelphia sometime in the past when coin phones did the work of cell phones. One of four friends has died and the other three have slipped away from the wake to drink whiskey. The widow shows up as does a stranger with a story to tell and everyone gets annoyed. I found the drama a little pat and the loose ends tied up too easily but it was a pleasant night out even driving home through the rain that lashed the Lower Keys Friday night.
I don't want to give away the plot of the drama which plays through the 23rd at the Red Barn Theatre but I did want a bit more confrontation when deep dark secrets are revealed about a character of whom we know too little but chocolate repairs all human heartache and what the Red Barn lacked the chocolate shop had in spades. I skipped the candy apples though I could see why Nelly could have difficulty erasing them from her mind once tasted. A modern day Eve is my colleague...I resisted the temptation.
I went with a six and a half dollar Twinkie, which considering you can buy 20 normal Twinkies for the same price (I checked online) must make this a pretty damn pricey Twinkie in normal commerce. I know that Twinkies nearly disappeared recently when faced with a drive to wreck a few more working class benefits and idiots everywhere were prepared to pay silly money for the things. That fiasco left me cold, as I have no nostalgia for Twinkies and the few Hostess cakes I have entertained have been bland and generally flavor free, but the loss of decent union jobs however does leave me steamed. I watched people bid on the "last" Twinkies with amazement, sure that corporate America had a back door union busting plan in place. My cynicism was justified of course and a few saps were left holding monstrously expensive flavor-free cakes. I on the other hand had a delicious Kilwin's Twinkie yesterday. Astonishing but true. And they give a local's discount though the clerk actually did check my wife's ID so don't you try it on.
My wife decided to get two pieces of cheaper candy to my one and we left the store spending one third what we spent for lunch. It really is bloody difficult to explain value for money, but I left this place feeling okay about the absurd price. Human nature is just one more reason I would make a terrible businessman; it baffles me, even in myself does human nature.
We strolled Duval Street like tourists, side stepping the shuffling crowds on the sidewalk. It felt as though winter must be cold Up North seeing all these people Down Here trailing their flip flopped feet as they ride rental scooters.
I grew up enjoying pasta and olive oil and garlic on vacations at my mother's home in Italy, flavors that we consider sophisticated these days when pasta in a can is no longer acceptable. Yet in England in school I learned to like the peculiar foods of my boarding school youth including Marmite and sticky pudding and sponge cakes, custards and the particular sweet milk chocolate only the English know how to make. It turns out a Kilwin's Twinkie makes a very passable milk chocolate sponge cake hitting two of the essential food groups. I woofed the thing before we got to St Paul's. Embarrassing.
It was fun playing tourist on Duval and let me say we checked the traffic and the lights before we crossed the side streets. Locals like to boast that they never go to Duval Street, but people come from all over the world to see this place so I figure I can do no less from time to time. Besides I'm getting low on cheap pink Crocs in men's size 12.
The Croc shop had nothing on sale so we went back to the car empty handed - the Kilwin's was long gone!
All kinds of wildness you will see on Duval Street. Even Harley riders wearing all the gear. Bloody tourists. I was one for a bit and it was fun. You're the loser if you don't stroll Duval from time to time.



Saturday, November 16, 2013

Mind Altering Key West

Key West's blue laws have been repealed me so nowadays you can buy alcohol seven mornings a week at seven o'clock if you want to. The ban on Sunday morning sales was lifted after sustained protests that it was anachronistic to ban alcohol only for people lacking the means to drive five miles to buy a bottle on Stock Island. That such desperate behavior might be construed as signals of a potential problem went without saying. The problem was not being able to buy alcohol in a city dedicated to that proposition.

There is but a short time now before winter sets in Up North, and out of the snow drifts and iced in airports will come crowds of frozen people. It's another season like red leaves or icicles and it wouldn't be Key West if there weren't crowds of them shuffling up and down sidewalks whenever the temperature drops below 70.

My strategy is to adapt to circumstances, downtown when it's empty and hot in summer and in the back country when it's cool and pleasant in winter. Fall is the time to stock up on Cuban coffee without having to stand in line at the coffee shop as one does in winter. People think my job answering phones at the police department is tough, but I can't imagine standing all day selling strangers cups of coffee, but luckily some people think it is a fine way to earn a living doing it and they aren't allowed to behave as though they don't like people.

Cuban Coffee Queen has made a go of it and I find it surprising honestly, they have almost no seating, shoved to one side of a large empty lot on a town overflowing with coffee shops. I have absolutely no idea what makes a business work or not. Location and low overhead maybe, but lack of amenity has nothing to do with whether or not a business succeeds.

They make a decent sandwich at Cuban a Coffee Queen, though for me the difference between a Key West breakfast and a mainland breakfast might be fish versus meat. I like fish for breakfast but it's hard to find a nice plate of eggs and fish to start the day. What Cheyenne found in the picture below, doesn't bear thinking about but it was very very interesting to my dog. I hate seeing people drag their dogs away from interesting smells, it's like tearing the book out of your hand before you've finished the story. I think Cheyenne goes home more relaxed when she sets the pace for the walk, and has time to read all the interesting stories along the way.

I was reflecting on my meeting with Bohemian George and I wonder how he wil cope this winter in Prague, snowed in in Bohemia. I imagine wood lined beer cellars brightly lighted and everyone drinking tall mugs of golden Budweiser, which as I recall from my visit to Czech some 15 years ago tasted as beer should, not like the gnat's piss sold by the Belgians in the US. Then I imagine George stepping out into a Kafka stereotype world of shadows and snow and cold piercing wind, and I wonder why he does it when he has a perfectly nice house in Old Town.

Petronia Street is an interesting stretch of road through Bahama Village. It's narrow and lacks parking and all amenity for visitors. Yet it boasts several successful restaurants, some well known, the crepe place and Blue Heaven as well as a newly relocated Salsa Loca eatery. And others less well known, but a mean omelette place nevertheless:

Are you ready? Checking the billboard I wonder why these people feel they have to inspire fear all the time. I wish St Paul had left a few letters that inspired perhaps a little less misogyny and a little less fear. Fear of the dark makes people act very odd.

Then of course there are the day to day irritations of being human. I wonder if the hereafter is silent? Is that possible?

This mural inspired thoughts of eternity in me, which goes to show how off kilter my mind is. The living parrots in full color and the shadows as shades. One always seem to revert to the idea that any after life most likely has a nasty component to it. Are you ready? Me? Not bloody likely, there's plenty to worry about in this life never mind the next.

I took this next picture of Ashe Street at Olivia just because I liked how it looked. No deep thoughts.

And I keep bumping into these things. This one was getting worked about about pruning?

Key West is great place to sit and think. Sometimes just to sit.