Put Out More Flags

Mallory Square in a fresh breeze and the flag, properly illuminated at five in the morning, over the memorial to the USS Maine, blown up in Havana in 1898.

Rusty, no devotee of history and thus ignorant of Key West's role in the Spanish American War, is nevertheless quite fond of the open space at the waterfront.

Remind me if I have ever noticed these masks over the door at the Waterfront Playhouse because I didn't remember them, Tragedy and Comedy. 

More flags visible from in front of the theater, these at the top of the Historum Tower. 

Not exactly a flag this one but a sort of flag for the changes being made downtown as a long time success story closes shop and goes up for rent on Front Street.

The Harbor House always looks good at night, all brick and wrought iron:

Front Street below, showing off a trio of flags at the Conch Train Depot. The red cross (saltire) of Florida, the blue Conch Republic flag and over them the stars and stripes.

I liked the little blue sign, new to me, pointing the way to Simonton Beach which now has a well established business where the public toilets used to be. In the wake of such innovation signs are springing up.

The first resort of them all from whose inspiration the other waterfront behemoths grew:

Put out more flags indeed as we find our way forward in a new economy and a new way of doing things in our little tourist town.

 

Turtle Kraals

The Cuban Coffee Queen shack near the waterfront has been a runaway success in a  town packed with coffee shops. This little spot is now the flagship take out place in a chain of three all across town. As usual I gave them no chance when they first opened years ago and I got it all wrong! They make a mean Cuban sandwich too.

Circling Schooner Wharf Bar is always an exercise in good hope for me. Like this guy on Lazy Way Lane one is likely to see people who find their own niche in a conformist world. There are fewer and fewer of them in this town but they tend to congregate around here during the day.

I see people who look happy and expectant though whether they are new to town and excited at the prospects or determined optimists who have met the bitter truth about life in paradise and are not set back by it, I wouldn't know.

These seem odd times to be out and about unprotected in crowds when walking is an effort.  I had my mask on to try to keep the stupid gene at bay and I ducked and weaved to keep my distance. 

If you get away from the tourist areas you will see people masking up as a matter of course when they head towards the entrance to a business, but among visitors the idea of being reminded of dreary daily living seems too much for most of them. 

On the waterfront, the views remain the same, the flags at the Schooner Wharf, the sunshine, it all looks the same as always. There is a certain reassurance in the view. If not now sooner or alter we will see normal again.

Turtle Kraals is gone and won't be back. They say the Boathouse is moving round here from the other side of the bight to occupy the space. Who knows how that will look.

I used to take breakfast here sometimes on my way to my job as a boat driver in the harbor. Sitting at an open window with a plate of eggs and the extraordinarily strong coffee they made was a memory that stuck. No digital photography in those days so I have no pictures.

They come and they go and the memories remain.

New Normal

Key West has always been the escape destination. This is where people come to live for a brief while south of reality. These days the escape from reality seems more important than ever for some, perhaps for most visitors. This is supposed to be the weekend of Fantasy Fest and supposedly there are people in town determined to pretend the canceled carnival is still happening. Most of from Tampa, a place where the word "superspreader" new to our collective vocabulary, may not yet have taken root. It will if enough of them have showed up.

I see two key Wests these days more starkly defined by clothing than ever, which is funny as the Key West I preferred was the one where outward signs of status or wealth were pretty much ignored. 

These days wear a mask as you go about your business and you are a local, travel with apparent impunity and you aren't.

Perhaps it takes local lungs to be immune to heat and small pieces of cloth combined. Perhaps it takes immunity to the news to travel for sheer fun these days. 

I find myself slightly astonished by the numbers of people prepared to eat in restaurants, gather in groups and act as though Covid 19 is a live or die proposition. I have no desire to imperil my helath at this late stage, and when you've been intubated once it isn't an experience you are anxious to repeat let me assure you. 

Yet when I went to pick up food to go the restaurant tables were crowded and the diners were mask free. I salute their escape from reality. At the supermarket on an early morning nearly deserted shop a few select items are as usual in short supply. In preparation for the second wave of coronavirus we stocked up on toilet paper. I wonder what we will miss this time around and nearly run out of?

This irritating state of affairs is the new normal.

https://www.nature.com/articles/s41591-020-1132-9

White Street Gallery District

They call it  the White Street Gallery District, a formal name for a strip of stores along the north south road that more or less separates Old Town from the area now known as Mid Town. Sandy's Café has to be one of the best known stores on the strip. No longer open twenty four hours it does fire up at 5am which is early enough for most people. 

Not so long ago there was a divorce between the operator of the café and the owner of the property and they went their separate ways, and ended up a couple of blocks apart. Fernandy's hasn't survived coronavirus so now there is only one red and white Cuban coffee shop on the street.

Another well know name is Fausto's the locally owned grocery store with two outlets, one here on White Street and the other on Fleming.

They describe themselves as a neighborhood social center which I suppose is true. It always surprises me how many businesses have two successful outlets in Key West, a town with a great many people reluctant to travel more than a mile from home.

Elections rear their head everywhere and Lopez has been a  city commissioner for almost as long as I can remember but in fact he was elected in distant 2005 and he is running again. Yup, we know him.

As I recall Mo's was started by a French Canadian couple who sold to a new Haitian owner and the place has kept it's garlicky Gallic appeal ever since. Still going strong.

White on White. It has a certain ring to it. I may have been giddy when I saw the sign. Rusty woke me early and I was half an hour ahead of schedule when I got to town, hence the time in hand to walk White Street with the camera before driving up Virginia to the salt mines.

And as I was getting into the car to go to work I saw two people passing in the night across the street. I felt just a little less alone on the unlighted end of White Street, though  don't think they noticed me at all. 

A gratuitous Rusty picture (which Webb says can never be gratuitous of the perfect dog). He was at home relaxing while I was at work and my wife sent me the snapshot to make me jealous. It worked.

Rain. Lots.

Rain is life. It's also bloody annoying. Especially when there is so much of it, amd on my days off to boot.  Annoying because it is of course all about me.

This week though I messed with the weather gods when I got a chance to work overtime today, so even though it is expected to continue to rain through Friday I shall be at work each day. So there.

It has been spectacular with black skies strong winds and slightly cooler temperatures. It is hunkering weather.

Weather like this has people saying stuff like "this is perfect weather to read a good book" as though a good book comes into its own in rain or sleet or snow or something. Any time and any weather is good for a book in my restricted world view. Bad books are never worth my time, no matter how ghastly the weather.

It is rotten weather for photography which is ironic as I was listening to a podcast from an English photographer who was recommending going out in rainy weather now that Fall is sweeping the British Isles with moisture. Good advice maybe for the Lake District, rotten advice for the Keys where landscapes come to life in sunshine.

There is no subtlety in the Keys, no lingering wisps of fog or gentle evening light because at these latitudes either everything is on and bright with laser sunlight or everything is off and looks like crap.

So to avoid flat white light and flat gray clouds when Rusty insisted he was good to walk I took the macro camera and made some close ups of bright shiny flora along the back roads.

My supply of obsolete mens' pink Crocs has dwindled so I save them for around the house but pretty soon it will take more than footwear to keep one walking through the increasingly deep puddles.

Sugarloaf Key was positively waterlogged much to the delight of the ibis seen stepping delicately through puddles seeking flood victims for their lunch

I saw myself in these bubbles.  Very weird.

You may think the Keys are colorful but this is what they look like during massive summer thunderstorms:

Rusty used to hate the rain, as I don't thing his previous owners looked after him much and once abandoned on the streets of Homestead he must have got soaked in this weather. But after four years of towels and fussing and dry beds he has a rather more balanced approach to getting wet. Shame really as I am not a huge fan of umbrella walking but he deserves it if he is ready to get wet. Rainwater makes him very fluffy once he dries.

Upstairs Layne was zooming her students, a noisy business in Spanglish and Adult Ed and computer literacy struggles so I retreated to the bowels of Gannet 2 in a  moment that reminded me of long cold wet winters in the small craft harbor on the boat I lived in, after which this interior is modeled slightly. In a sign that he is getting used to the van Rusty left the dry car port and came and joined me on his side of the van (my wife's usually as I have the side with the taller head clearance). I read my Kindle and he started snoring.

Hanging out in the van with Rusty and the sound of rain pattering on the roof makes me feel like a teenager in a  tree house away from the prying eyes of the grown ups. I think I am entering my second childhood and I want it to be better than the first.

The Urban Jungle

I have pointed out previously how piped water to Key West has allowed the Southernmost City to go green. And it has over the years. Lots of trees everywhere.

Some of the trees are quite gnarly:

I took a lunch break and headed out with a camera to shake off the 911 calls from the morning.

Lots of trash in the alleyway, tree and shrubbery clippings I dare say...

Car Dead End it says. Not really, as it is a dead end but the "Car" refers to Carsten Lane, sometimes referred to as Carstens Lane. That visual joke would be too complicated to explain on Instagram. 

This photo on Margaret Street started me thinking about doing a series on urban shrubbery in the city. It is quite spectacular. 

It was a lovely day, still too hot and humid but there is hope that winter will get it here sooner or later. With more happy tourists riding around on their bicycles enjoying the winter sun. More than six feet away from me.

Carsten Lane shadows....

Without doubt the most picturesque home on Carsten Lane, I shall be sorry when it is completely restored and looks like every other modern Conch Cottage on the lane. I am no one's idea of a home restorer but I admire anyone that can look after an old home in a hot salty humid tropical climate.