The Ambling Of The Bulls

The endless loop playing through my head was asking the question: "What would Hemingway think?" The answer for a sceptic like me is "Not much!"

Let's face it, before we go any further, the 32nd Annual Hemingway Days in Key West celebrating the late writer's 113th birthday yesterday is about nothing quite so much as having a good time.

In Key West the innocuous phrase "having a good time" generally devolves to a party, quite likely an outdoor event or a street party accompanied by alcohol, costumes and buffoonery.

On those terms Hemingway Days could I suppose once again be termed a rip roaring success this weekend.

Ostensibly the struggle is to find a white man with a white beard who most closely resembles the elderly "Papa" before his suicide in 1961 in Idaho. That he was a strapping man in his prime when he lived for most of a decade in Key West has nothing to do with the image portrayed here.

This is the old man Hemingway that drove the former big game hunter and deep sea angler to his premature death, apparently in fear of the loss of his faculties.


Nothing daunted the candidates are required simply to resemble the Old Man, there is no general knowledge quiz about the man his lifestyle or his books.

It is, naturally for Key West, an event that raises money for various good causes chief among them scholarships of the Florida Keys Community College, and on Friday they had an elimination round of lookalike judging at the headquarters of the event. Then they had some kind of inaudible charity raffle in the crowded bar, the one that carries the namesake of Hemingway's fishing companion and erstwhile good friend, Sloppy Joe Russell.

Another way to raise money is to induce women to sit astride the bull holding a sign "I survived Hemingway Days Key West 2012" and cough over some cash for the privilege.

The uniforms of the participants harken back to the original and actual bull running event in Pamplona. It is a true running that sees a few participants killed every decade and several injured each year in Spain.

The red scarfed costume is in honor of the Patron Saint of Navarre, San Fermín who was martyred in France in AD 303.

It Is said he was beheaded, hence the red scarf, and dragged through the streets by bulls hence the bull running theme. It's all a bit vague as early Christian martyrs' biographies tend to be, but it all makes for a jolly good time in Pamplona July 6th and equally in Key West.

And so, after the fundraising and the drinking and the gathering of Hemingways on Greene Street in front of Sloppy Joe's Bar, the racing begins.

The crowd cheers the runners on as they get organized into teams around their bulls, because unlike Pamplona, here the bulls are propelled by the participants.

There are apparently cliques working to get candidates elected and not just at the political level:


But the center of attention are the bull runners.

It was a hot afternoon Saturday and let's be honest, expecting these elderly paunchy out of shape old codgers to do anything more than amble gently around one small city block would be expecting far too much.

It was a good show of cigars, beer and boxing gloves...


...all taken at a gentle stroll in the hundred degree heat.


They stumped along reminding me of nothing quite so much as my elderly Labrador (far from the madding crowd yesterday afternoon) stumping along and sweating profusely.


It's a way for old graybeards to get some youthful admiration, I guess.


There was plenty of that as they cruised up Ann Street to Caroline and started back toward Duval.

Hemingway made the original bull running popular among English speakers through his novel The Sun Also Rises which I read years ago, through a sense of obligation more than admiration. Hemingway's style using short sentences leaves me breathless and while I honor his Nobel Prize I prefer other authors.

Hemingway's great love was his farm in Cuba, which loosely translated means Overlook Farm, set in the hills behind Havana. It's an unhappy truth in a time of embargo against the island by the US, in a town that makes hay from piracy and Hemingway to draw tourists. Pirates in Key West are a myth and Hemingway's time in Key West was but an interlude in a long life lived mostly elsewhere. For pictures of his Cuban home check this out:

Finca Vigía

But facts are irritating things to paraphrase John Adams, especially when all you are trying to do is throw a party.

At that, Key West excels.



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Ducks Are Back

We have been told that tours of Key West harbor by amphibian will be a part of daily life in Key West. That's odd because the city has recently forked out eight million dollars to an amphibian operator who was forced out of business by a city monopoly rule.

This new amphibian is parked at the roundhouse owned by Historic Tours of America on Flagler Avenue. It was the city's monopoly agreement with HTA that spelled the end of the previous operator's effort. HTA said it had the sole right to operate city tours. The courts disagreed and forced the city to settle. That ruling opened the city to other tour operators, but HTA has decided to try the amphibian tours itself now.

It's all rather cut throat and ironic in country that claims a level playing field and honest competition for core values. This little spat shows one more time that money talks and bullshit gets plowed under. A court response costs time and money.

It also continues to bode ill for a city with no vision, no planned development, no idea what it wants to be in twenty years. HTA clearly wants to do no more than milk the cow, but it's a pity our elected leaders can't come up with something more appealing than a future crowded with more and more clogging of the city by low end tourism.

PS. Earlier this week the Key West Citizen reported an employee out for a test drive in the Key West Harbor rammed the DUCK into reverse without stopping the transmission and stalled the amphibian in the water. SeaTow to the rescue! Some practice clearly will be required.


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Rain Drops

It's raining all the time on and off. I come out of my lair after a morning of deep sleep and I am frequently astonished to find evidence of rainfall while I slept.


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Climate Change, Key West Style

It was a bit gray off to the southeast but Cheyenne needed a walk and I had brought her to town to do just that. So out we got and off we went in the Casa Marina district, the city's most expensive neighborhood.


Immediately Cheyenne hunted down and nailed some prey, tuning in her genetic wolf instincts.


A small dog snarled viciously from the safety of a passing bicycle basket. Cheyenne did her usual and ignored the provocation.


The weather was threatening and the strong cool breeze made it obvious rain was soon to follow.


Squeals sounded as beach goers, dressed to take advantage of salt water shuddered and ran for cover as though sulphuric acid were falling from the sky.


The visitors covered themselves in towels and ran out into the heavy rain. Cheyenne and I took cover under a tree and waited and watched.


A nice porch could have worked, and there wasn't a "No Trespassing" sign to be seen...


The rain fell, the tourists scattered getting soaked as they fled and peace returned to the street. We waited for the inevitable.


Another local took the falling water with aplomb. A ninety degree day becomes a 75 degree rain shower. This just isn't hypothermia country. And inevitably the rain will stop soon enough.


Conch train drivers, like letter carriers keep on going no matter the weather and their passengers get to wear yellow condoms.


Restaurants keep serving too so deliveries don't stop and you've got think this guy is happy to be here rather than say Minneapolis in January, if he thinks about it at all.


Louie's backyard has tons of fans thanks to their over the water deck, though I'm not one of them as I don't like being treated like a trespasser when I got for drinks or dinner. Going there in the rain sounds crazy to me, however several tourists asked me the way so they like it.


Out on the water hopeful snorkelers waited and rolled at the dock as the squall blew through.


Of course it blew over fast enough. Ten minutes later...


...Cheyenne and I were sticking to the tree covered side of the street to find some much needed shade. Key West's summer weather is like that.


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Summer Clouds

I saw clouds off in the distance and from my home I heard thunder and saw flashes of lightning.

I hustled Cheyenne int the car and headed off towards the stūrm und drang.

We parked on West Summerland Key and to my surprise we were not alone. A young family with two eager dogs was picnicking and their daughter took a shine to my dog, who remained unimpressed.

I watched a boater fight the currents and wind as he did something impenetrable with a pole.








Cheyenne watched two detached heads bobbing in the water.

I looked at the horizon and with I increasing disappointment I saw the storm getting blown to the west.

Towards my house ironically enough.


Big Pine got rained on nicely.


Schools are out which means quiet spots around the islands frequently get clogged with noisy colorful people.


I envied the cormorants sitting on their rocks in the middle of nowhere.


On the way home I caught up to the weather.

The rain and wind and thunder battered my little house as Cheyenne and I took cover after our little expedition.

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