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Kauai

Hawaii 

Kauai: Island of Deep Canyons, Green Valleys, Gushing Waterfalls and Towering Cliffs

On our first weekend together, Llew and I flew to the island of Kauai, which is nicknamed The Garden Isle because it is so lushly green and verdant. Arriving at Lihue airport, early in the morning, we rented a car and drove to Poipu Beach where we swam and snorkeled for a while, then visited Old Koloa Town, a recreated town now filled with restaurants, souvenir stores and “activity shops” which are places that offer helicopter or catamaran rides, dinner cruises, luaus, etc. After a quick lunch at the town of Waimea, we drove to Waimea Canyon which is called the “Grand Canyon of the Pacific” and quite justifiably so. On an island in which green is the dominant color, this canyon offers a multitude of colors in the rocks and cliffs that make up the gorge. At several lookout points on the drive that climbed up to elevations of over 4,000 feet, we were struck breathless by the views that were often engulfed in mist. Dozens of waterfalls added to the beauty of the scenery. In addition, we saw wild “moa” birds everywhere on Kauai—these look like common barnyard hens and roosters, but they are, in fact, a different species brought to the Hawaiian Islands by the early Polynesians. They became extinct on the other islands, however, as the mangoose that was brought to destroy the rodent population of the islands also ended up eating eggs laid by ground-laying birds. Since the mangoose was never introduced to Kauai, the moa birds have thrived here. Interestingly, though it is an Eden-like garden covered with tropical greenery, there are no snakes anywhere in Hawaii. The authorities were mortally afraid of even introducing them into the Honolulu Zoo for fear that they might escape and populate the islands with more snakes. This hasn’t happened, at least so far, leaving hikers and trekkers with no fear of snakes anywhere—a very comforting thought when we trekked over the Manoa Falls Trail (in Oahu) past some of the most breathtaking rainforest to get to the sight of a hundred foot waterfall thundering down the cliffs.

After a truly lovely drive through the Waimea Canyon, Llew and I decided to splurge on a really superb dinner at The Beach House voted “Kauai’s Most Romantic Restaurant” as a result of the spectacular sunsets that one can enjoy from its tables. We were fortunate to get a reservation and settled down to a truly impressive meal starting with tropical drinks like Maitais and Lava Flows and sampling the excellent fresh fish (mahimahi) and duck and the decadent chocolate desserts with macadamia nut mousse. By the time we checked into the Kahaleo Inn Bed and Breakfast, we were ready for a good night’s sleep as we would be waking early the next morning to take our helicopter ride around the island.

And what a ride it was! Never having flown in a helicopter before, Llew and I were tremendously excited to board the 7-seater aircraft captained by a pilot who was a brilliant raconteur as well. As we ascended from the Lihue helipad, we flew over the airport, then made our way along the crests and ridges of the mountains. Most of Kauai is inaccessible by road which makes a helicopter ride a most sensible way by which to explore the island. Our pilot took our helicopter to the various venues where opening scenes from Jurrasic Park were shot, including the waterfalls hidden in the folds of the mountains. While skimming over the red, brown and green layers of the Waimea Canyon, we spied the road along which we had driven the previous day. Then, making a turn, the pilot took us to the Na Pali Cliffs on the northern side of Kauai where we were spellbound by mile after mile of towering cliffs that rose vertically from the sea’s edge making them inaccessible by any other means of transport except helicopter or catamaran. The waters were so clear that we could see the coral reefs clearly from the air. Leaving the cliffs behind, we flew inland into the Waileialeia Valley, called the “wettest spot on earth” as the area receives more than 400 inches of rainfall a year. We then flew right into the heart of a dormant volcano, skimmed around its steep concave sides, seemingly brushing past the highest branches of the trees growing luxuriantly in the valleys. On the last leg of our ride, we flew over the Wailua Falls, twin jets of water that spilled into a shallow, wide basin pool below, a venue we also explored later by car on the ground. Overall, our helicopter ride was an amazing experience and one that allowed us to skim over the highest peaks and descend into the deepest valleys, while covering the beaches where such famous films as From Here to Eternity were shot.

After riding the helicopter, we drove to the north of Kauai to the cute little town of Hanelei, where we passed by picturesque one-lane bridges, taro plantations, banana groves, etc. before arriving at Ke’e Beach at the northern tip just where the Na Pali Cliffs rise out of the waters. On our way, we made stops at Kilauea Wildlife Refuge where we saw thousands of native sea birds clinging to the cliffs like pieces of white fabric flapping in the wind and visited the Kilauea Lighthouse. Since guavas are my favorite fruit, we visited a guava plantation where we sampled juice, jam and ice-cream. But I was very disappointed to discover that, in Hawaii, guavas are not eaten as fruit. They are only crushed to make jams and juices and as such the hybrid varieties are huge but quite tasteless on the rare occasion that you do find them in a farmer’s market.

Many visitors believe that Kauai is the most beautiful of the Hawai’ian islands. I have to admit, however, that having toured every single one of the main islands, we found it impossible to pick a favorite. Why don’t you traverse them all and let us know what your Pick of the Islands was!

Bon Voyage!

The Big Island

Big Island

Hawaii 

 

(At the entrance to Hawai’i Volcanoes National Park)

The Big Island:  Of Live Volcanoes and Gushing Lava Flows

Llew poses by the sculpture of lei-makers at Kona Airport on Haewai'i's Big IslandMost folks flying on to Hawaii’s “Big Island”, arrive at Kona airport which must be the most unique architectural design Llew and I  have ever seen for an airport. It consisted of several buildings shaped like volcanoes, each of which formed a part of the passenger terminals. The effect was of a rustic village instead of a regular airport (left).

Renting a car again, we drove south towards the picturesque Kailua-Kona village past nothing but black lava rock formations. We realized, almost at once, how different Hawaii was from Kauai. Down the famous Ali Drive in Kona, we edged along the sea wall past restaurants and shops and arrived at St. Peter’s Catholic Church (above), the tiniest church in the world, perched right at the water’s edge and boasting an interior that was smaller than our living room! We also stopped along the way at St. Benedict’s “Painted Church”, so called because one of its earliest pastors painted scenes from the Bible on its interior walls in order to teach the local Hawaiians about Christian doctrine (below).

Pushing on towards Hawaii Volcanoes National Park, we stopped for a bit at Punalu’u Beach where we saw a black sand beach for the first time in our lives, made entirely of lava rock that has eroded to fine sand (see below left).

It was quite a fantastic sight! We also stopped to sample Portuguese sweet bread at the Punalu’u Bake Shop where the chocolate éclairs and the malasadas (Portuguese doughnuts) were scrumptious.

When we finally arrived at Hawaii Volcanoes National Park, it was about 2.30 pm, the perfect stage at which to begin our exploration of the Crater Rim Road which took us past the main volcanic craters left behind by eruption activity through the centuries. Some of these craters, such as Kilauea Calder, were still smoking as was evident from the steam vents at which we paused to get a natural sauna bath and the yellow sulphur deposits seen on the crater floor.

Llew at the Thurston Lava Tube and with Rochelle at the Kilauea CraterAmong the many hikes we took at the park, was one through the Thurston Lava Tube where the vegetation outside was lush but inside the tube (right), it was pitch dark and slimy. When we were finally ready to make our way to the edge of Crater Rim Road to see the live lava flowing into the sea, we just couldn’t contain our excitement, as this was the whole reason that we had traveled to the Big Island.

Arriving at the end of Crater Rim Road, after a long and snaky drive downhill past vast land newly formed by lava flows, we joined hundreds of other visitors, all intent on viewing the same unforgettable sight (right). We parked our car and started the long and arduous three mile hike towards the fresh lava flows from Pu’u O’o Volcano which has been spewing molten lava regularly since 1987. Walking gingerly over the black lava rocks, I was afraid about how we would make our way back to the car in pitch darkness and I was grateful for our flashlight. Since the lava flows have covered a great part of the road, we actually passed by traffic speed signs that have been engulfed in lava.

Closer to the venue, we saw the golden glow of live lava flows at the ocean’s edge and knew that we had a very special treat in store if we could withstand the continued hike over still-warm lava rocks to the spot where landscape met seascape. When we did eventually get there, feeling the heat like a warm sauna around us all the way, after an excruciating hike over lava rocks, we saw a sight that is impossible to describe (below left).

Molten lava was pushing from the lower levels of the volcano and snaking its way towards the ocean so that when the flowing fire reached the waves, the hiss of clouding steam could clearly be heard as we saw creation in the making. The lava eventually dries and forms new land, extending the island, so that the Big Island is still an unfinished project of Nature! While we stood there, struck with disbelief, we saw new streams of molten lava join the initial flows and create one massive snake that poured, almost spigot-like, into the water. As night fell over the scene, the blaze grew more vivid and the hushed disbelief with which people watched the sight made the hissing of the waters seem louder. The burning lava continued to glow under water even as it was cooled by the ocean’s waves. This live volcanic activity was what we had flown to the Big Island to see and we were not disappointed! It will always remain one of the most formidable sights of our lives as we felt humbled in the awesome presence of Nature.

(With Peter Herschock and his son Kaiyo–left– at Hawai’i Volcanoes National Park and on the still-warm lava flows that cover the national highway–below)

Rochelle poses by a lava-covered speed sign on the highway just before seeing the awesome molten lava pouring into the ocean (right)

Making our way back in the dark to our car, we ended up spending the night at Aloha Junction Bed and Breakfast at Volcano Village where we had a very comfortable night. However, we had another early start as we left the next day for our flight to the island of Maui arriving at Kilelei airport, a couple of hours later.

Hawaii

HAWAI’I  DIARY: An Account of Five Weeks in Paradise

(Llew and Rochelle at Kailua Beach on the Island of Oahu in Hawai’i)

For most people, an opportunity to visit Hawai’i for even a week is a chance in a lifetime. When I spent five whole weeks on the paradisiac island of Oahu in the South Pacific, I decided to document by travels meticulously through word and picture. Llew joined me for the last two weeks and as we island-hopped, we picked up deep tans, a bit of Hawai’an and a lasting love for the place. We’ve decided that when we retire, it might well be in this most tropical of American states.

Follow us now on our travels in Hawai’i…

Returning from a trip to Hawaii is to miss the wonderfully colorful landscape of the islands. Right now in Connecticut, with high summer upon us, everything is a lovely green; but there are no vivid shades of pink, purple or crimson to relieve the verdant landscape or paint it with startling tropical colors.

The US state of Hawaii, formerly a monarchical kingdom, comprises eight main islands with several tinier ones that don’t usually count—Hawaii (the Big Island), Oahu, Maui, Kauai, Lanai, Moloka’i, Niihau and Kaholo’awe. Oahu is the most populated (though not the largest—that honor goes to Hawaii, hence its nickname ‘Big Island’) and most popular. Honolulu, the capital city is located on Oahu as is the famed Waikiki Beach. I arrived on June 6 at Honolulu airport, late at night, awfully jetlagged after a fifteen hour flight from New York’s Kennedy airport. My accommodation at the University of Hawaii’s campus was a tiny dorm room. When I awoke to a cloudy morning after a slight drizzle, I found myself staring wondrously outside my window at the verdant Manoa Valley where a rainbow was also staining the sky in varied colors. This was the first of many rainbows that I spotted in Hawaii. Every time it gets a trifle too warm, the slightest drizzle appears like a gentle spray. It stops in just a few minutes and as the sun emerges from the clouds, rainbows arch superbly across the skies. It was a sight of which I never tired.

Please click on the links below to peek into my Hawai’i Diary as we traverse the four major islands that make up this idyllic American state.

St. Augustine

North America’s First City

 The old Spanish town of St. Augustine was truly a revelation. It was my brother Roger who, having visited the city earlier, suggested that we include it on our itinerary, and I was grateful for his advice after we had surveyed the attractions it offered. Established as the oldest town in America by the Spaniard explorers in 1565, Pedro Menendez de Aviles is credited for putting the town on the map, having named it for the saint upon whose feast day his ship landed ashore. Over the centuries, it has attracted a vast number of settlers eager to find their fortunes in the New World. For the contemporary traveler, the city offers a wealth of reminders of what colonial American looked like under Spanish influence.

We began our exploration the way we usually do—at the Visitors Center. From there, armed with maps and recommendations for restaurants, we walked to the historic district, passing through the old City Gates (left) wrought in giant stone masonry and sporting huge cannonballs on their pedestals. Right past the gates, the town opens up to the famous St. George Street where the bulk of the action is located. Lined with souvenir shops, restaurants, ice-cream parlors and amusement arcades, the street retains its delightful Spanish ambience in the distinctive architecture that characterizes all small Mediterranean towns.

Having seen this architecture in some old pockets of Bombay quite frequently through the Portuguese settlers, I was charmed to note how similar in style and conception these communities were. St. George Street (right)  is also the location of the oldest wooden school house in the country where tours of the interior are offered. Deciding to eat brunch, we made our way to Aviles Street, past the Plaza de la Constitution, a green oasis that forms the Basilica-Cathedral Square. At Las Haciencas Restaurant, we ate gigantic Spanish omelettes, then resumed our walking tour of the town.

St. Augustine is extremely walker-friendly and there is nothing that cannot be reached on foot. After a visit to the spectacular interior of the Cathedral with its magnificent marble altar, we left the ancient Spanish Quarter behind us, and walked down King Street where the ambience changed dramatically.

This was more modern, sophisticated St. Augustine—the St. Augustine of Henry Flagler who has a college named after him. Indeed, the old Ponce de Leon Hotel that he designed and created with an eye to attracting wealthy Americans to the sunny South, has been turned today into a superb institution of higher learning. The splendor of the building called Flagler College has to be seen to be believed. Not only is the exterior stunning, but the main lobby (today the Visitors Lobby) is a study in gilded Renaissance Baroque excess. We walked around the grand building, then crossed King Street to get to the Lightner Museum, also one of Flagler’s former hotels, then called the Alcazar.

Today, the Lightner houses the individual collection of Chicago publisher Otto C. Lightner who spent his lifetime amassing decorative Victorian artifacts from clocks and marble fountains to carved wooden tables and Tiffany stained glass windows. The gardens that surround the building are equally compelling for the avid visitor and the koi that swam under the Japanese bridges were fascinating. The outsides of Flagler’s former hotels, all in the Hispano-Moorish style, are truly breathtaking. This drama is seen also in the Cordoba Hotel, Flagler’s third, which stands adjacent to the Lightner—together they make a stylish architectural statement and give St. Augustine an august grandeur.
Castillo de San Marco:

Our next stop was at the Castillo de San Marco which lies across the broad Avenida Menendez. The bridge across the river is flanked by twin lions but the fortress sits on the seafront, occupying a position of strategic beauty. The Spanish colonizers began work on this stone fortification in 1672. Successive settlers in the region added to its dimensions so that it is a hulking structure today but deeply aesthetic in the star shape that its bastions have taken. Built uniquely of coquina, a combination of powdered compressed seashell and coral with mortar, the structure’s walls remain delicate and subject to easy destruction. After the US gained control of Florida from the Spaniards in 1821, the fortress was renamed Fort Marion and used during the Civil War as a military prison, hospital and storage depot. Today maintained by the US Park Service, self-guided tours costing $6 each take visitors through the antiquated environs, allowing visits to the old infirmary, the soldiers’ barracks, the chapel, etc. Though much of the fortress has fallen into disuse, effective reconstruction is slowly bringing it back to its former glory. We were fortunate enough to see a re-enactment of a canon-firing ceremony on the gun deck undertaken as if at Fort Marion in the days of the Civil War. Confederate soldiers dressed in the blue coats of that period performed the ceremony on the ramparts of the fort under perfectly blue skies that were mirrored in the perfectly blue waters of the ocean. It was easy to imagine how effectively those canons might have delivered their deadly ammunition to their unfortunate targets. Later in our rambles around the moat, the watch towers and the guard rooms, we had a chance to escape into a former century and imagine what life might have looked like when lived in an age of siege.

(Llew stands outside the oldest wooden schoolhouse in the USA and Rochelle stands outsdie the oldest house in the USA)

St. Augustine truly offers a glimpse of the kind of Florida one does not see anywhere else in the state. It is a tribute to the pioneering zeal, if destructive spirit, of the greedy Spanish colonists who arrived in the New World for god, gold and glory but left behind a living legacy of their national culture. Glad to have experienced this spirit for ourselves, we spent a night further south in Titusville before heading off the next day to Palm Beach.

Bon Voyage!

Palm Beach & Boca Raton

Florida’s Perfect Palm Beach and Bewitching Boca

Palm Beach is every bit as chi-chi as you might have heard. Though I have traveled to the ritziest parts of California (Belle Air, Hollywood and Rodeo Drive, for instance), I have never seen so privileged a lifestyle as I saw on the streets of this impeccable city. This is the place to people-watch if catching glimpses of the beau monde is your cup of tea. Henry Flagler is once again to be credited for visualizing and creating this playground for the rich and famous at the end of the 19th century. In the early twentieth century, he was joined in his efforts by architect Addison Mizner who designed and built a number of grand Spanish style mansions for the well-heeled who made this city their winter playground.

There is literally not a street out of place is this superbly planned city. From the minute you drive into its palatial environs, past the tall coconut palms that line the wide boulevards, you sense in your bones that you are in the company of American aristocracy. The town is dominated by the red-roofed turrets of the old Royal Porciana Hotel, today an apartment building. Even the high school building by which we passed, has all the aura of a Spanish hacienda. We were struck by the amount of time, money and energy that has gone into keeping this city uniform in its architectural appeal and in the addition of the distinctive embellishments that make good architecture great.
Using my trusty DK Eye-Witness Guide Book, we parked our car and took a walking tour of the city, starting at Sunrise Avenue where we stepped briefly into St. Edward Church to see some of the most amazing stained glass windows in the south. Right opposite the church is Greene’s Pharmacy and Luncheonette which has been steadily in business since the 1930s and offers all the old-fashioned ambience of a casual city diner and soda fountain.
Back in our car, we drove to one of the most famous hotels of the south, The Breakers, where, at The Seafood Bar, in an attempt to cast a glance at the posh interiors of the lobby, we decided to have a light lunch of the famous Florida Hearts of Palm Salad. Also conceived and designed by Flagler, The Breakers is an opulent piece of work indeed, as astonishing on the inside as it is impressive on the outside. The lobby is so magnificent that we felt as if we were in a museum. Occupying an enviable piece of real estate, right on the waterfront whose waves give the hotel its name, we were so taken by the building lapped by the jade waters of the Atlantic that lay just a stone’s throw away from us as we lunched in right royal style.

 Continuing our exploration of Palm Beach, we drove towards Worth Street, one of the prettiest shopping areas I have ever seen. Lined by low slung buildings in the most appealing pastel shades, the shop fronts had charming displays of some of the world’s most expensive luxury goods from watches and designer clothing to alligator skin handbags and stone-studded jewelry. A fine showcase of American wealth, Worth Street made pleasant window shopping even if one didn’t wish to part with a penny.

Back in our car, we continued our driving tour of the city arriving at Casa de Leoni (left), the home that Mizner built as his private residence on the banks of Lake Worth. Everywhere we went we saw a similar style in homes that were well concealed behind tall and superbly manicured hedges—Spanish red tiled roofs overhung pink abode and stuccoed walls adorned with delicate wrought iron trellises at windows and Juliet-style balconies. Overall, these architectural confections whispered Old Money. So rich are the townspeople that even the Town Hall is a work of art and when viewed from the street corner it is easy to mistake the buildings that make up the Town Hall Corner for a really prosperous part of modern Spain. We were sorry that Whitehall, the private winter residence of Henry Flagler, today the Flagler Museum, is closed on Mondays, making it impossible for us to see the undoubtedly breathtaking interiors.

Beguiling Boca Raton:

 

 

 

 

 

(Llew–left–and Rochelle–right–at Mizner Park in Boca Raton)

We stopped for ice-cream at Greene’s Luncheonette where the portions were huge and the service was old-fashioned, before we hit the highway again and headed towards Boca Raton to get an idea of the city that is generally referred to as “Boca”. Also visualized by Mizner as being a secondary Palm Beach, the extravagance that comprises the city did not materialize in his own lifetime but developed only after his demise into the commercial dream that it is today. In this city too, it is well-manicured golf courses and country clubs, high end stores and shopping plazas that make the tourist gasp in wonder. We decided to drive directly to Mizner Park, named after this brilliant visionary, a space where a Cultural Center, a Museum of Fine Art and a collection of upscale stores sit cheek by jowl in a superbly-planned space that sparkles with Spanish style fountains and cobbled sidewalks. Today’s city planners have continued Mizner’s dream, building plazas that echo his great love for Spanish detail as seen in the ice-cream hued walls and red tiled roofs that adorn them.

Without straying from our itinerary too long, we got back into our car and continued driving further south along the east coast, taking the more scenic Route 1 which skirts the coast offering lovely glimpses of the clear blue waters of the Atlantic and the many coastal homes that dot the region. We made our home for the next three nights at Dania Beach just south of Fort Lauderdale where our friends Allan and Martha Rodriguez live. We called it a night rather early as the next morning would see us wake up at the crack of dawn to board our cruise ship for our first glimpse of the Caribbean Islands of the Bahamas.

Bon Voyage!

Naples

Naples: Florida’s Italianate City

 

 

 

 

 

Our visit to Naples on the West Coast of Florida was completely unplanned. Discovering upon leaving that we would, upon our return drive home, be arriving in Charleston, South Carolina, by the late afternoon, we made an impulsive decision to drive across the state on what is called Alligator Alley to get to Naples. I had heard a great deal about this immaculate town and resolved to get a quick glimpse into the West Coast lifestyle. The drive, far from being boring, was thick with bird life. Though we did not see any alligators on the alley, we did see a variety of stocks and herons for the road passes through several wetlands and conservation areas.
When we arrived in Naples, we drove directly to the residential area known as Pelican Bay to meet up with our friends Doris and Hank Herbring, formerly of Southport, who have retired to Florida for the majority of the year. Their home on Via Mezner was simply charming. Driving along the broad tree-lined boulevards was a revelation of the kind of posh lifestyle that is possible when one has saved carefully over a lifetime to live a retired life of quiet luxury. We passed mile after mile of emerald-green golf courses and fancy country clubs, big name retail stores and every conceivable restaurant chain. When we did get to the Herbrings, we were bewitched by the style and ambience of their lovely home. A pergola covered with magenta bouganvillea led us into their covered sunny porch and into a living room that was flooded with sunlight from the picture windows. After we had spent a while catching up with our friends who looked remarkably fit and tanned and bursting with vitality, they took us for a walk around their pool and club house to give us an insight into the kind of life they lead. Next, they drove us to the “terminus” for a “tram”—really little more than a roomy golf cart—which then took us down to Pelican Bay past the most colorful bird life. Imagine our delight when we passed by a sand bank and saw a dozen lively baby alligators, no bigger than large lizards, being hounded by hungry stocks and egrets. As the alligators slithered towards the safety of the water, the egrets pounced down upon them leaving them little chance of survival. Thrilled that we had spotted alligators in Florida, albeit a nest of baby ones, we felt as if we were on an exotic vacation to a South Pacific Island or at a Disney theme park passing under tropical waterfalls whose caverns were stocked with plumed wonders. In a few moments, we arrived at the beautiful spotless white beach. The tide was in and waves came right up to the sunbathers’ toes as they tanned steadily beneath their blue beach umbrellas.

Then, bidding goodbye to the Herbrings, we drove to Downtown Naples to take in the enticements of Fifth Avenue. The buildings sport the same pastel colors which I had, by this point, begun to recognize as typically Floridian. Lovely shops, real estate agencies, casual restaurants and boutiques were scattered amidst fountains, cobbled squares and low slung bridges as we made our way down the road. Since it was such a lovely afternoon, it was not surprising that retirees and preppy youngsters chose to sit at pavement cafes sipping their java at leisure as shiny luxury cars made their way down the main street. While Miami, Palm Beach and Boca exude a distinctly Spanish flavor, the essence of life here in Naples, like the city from where it derives its name, is decidedly Italian. Streets are named with Via (meaning “road” in Italian) in their prefixes and pillars and classical Roman statuary are used decoratively everywhere the eye turns

In every way, Naples reeked conservative wealth and prosperity and we were very pleased to have seen how the other half lives in America. Most of Florida seems to be populated with older people who, in the winter, live the good life, their daily routine interspersed with tennis and golf, manicures and perms at the local salons, daytime shopping expeditions and night-time meals eaten al fresco while sipping chilled wines. It is a lifestyle that is deeply enviable and thoroughly Floridian. Come June, most of these Snowbirds will have migrated to cooler climes northwards, leaving their gorgeous homes vacant until the arrival of the next  winter. We were glad we had a small taste of Naples. We understood why real estate in this part of the country is so pricey and sought-after.

Bon Voyage!

Miami

Miami

Magical Miami

The next day, we drove south to the fabulous coastal city of Miami which seemed to us like a world unto itself. Miami wears many different faces, each designed to suit a distinct venue. Our first stop was Vizcaya (left) , Miami’s most frequently visited sight, and once home to millionaire industrialist James Deering who made his fortune in McCormick Spices—who’d have guessed? Completed in 1916 as his winter retreat, Vizacaya was built in imitation of a Venetian palazzo and indeed when we stood out on the patio outside the ornate East Loggia overlooking the high waters of Biscayne Bay, I could have sworn I was looking across Venice at the Island of Murano. Deering’s architects and designers spared no pains or expense to create a space that was extravagant enough to house his impressive collection of art and artifacts from the Middle Ages down. Meanwhile, his landscape designers created formal gardens so perfectly symmetrical that when viewed from the air they look like an Oriental carpet!

In the hands of one of the best guides I have ever heard, Judith Connors, we took a tour of the interiors, passing through the many rooms on the ground floor that were jam packed with his mighty collection of classical urns and statuary, Medieval and Renaissance chairs, tables and water fountains, formal furnishings and marble bath tubs. The Neo-Classical obsession with symmetry and balance is well evident in the construction of the interiors with their faux doors and secret passages, all superbly embellished with moldings, pilasters, pediments, etc. In this concoction of a home that blended comfort with splendor it was easy enough to see how the other half lived at a time of stupendous money-making and spectacular losses. Vizcaya survived the vagaries of the Great Depression but even Deering wondered if he’d be able to keep up the expenses that the monstrous size of the home demanded. Having stayed unmarried and producing no heirs, his estate passed into the hands of the City Fathers who actually contemplated razing Vizcaya to the ground until better counsel prevailed. The home was saved and opened to the public. Today, it serves as a fantastic receptacle for some of the most apparent grandeur of America’s early entrepreneurs.
Leaving the superbly landscaped environs of Vizacaya behind us and passing by the glass and concrete skyscrapers of Downtown Miami, we made our way towards Little Havana, the area that developed in the 1960s after Cuba fell into the hands of Fidel Castro. The very first Cuban refugees who fled the new Communist regime were wealthy, conservative, right wing entrepreneurs who brought their money and their business acumen across the waters to Miami. Today, they do business in Little Havana, united in their hatred for Castro, their fierce love for their homeland fed by undying nostalgia and their similar politics. Strolling down Calle Oche which is the commercial heart of their ethnic quarter, we saw establishments selling the strong dark Cuban coffee, traditional Cuban sandwiches and Spanish newspapers. At Maximo Gomez Park, we saw old-timers playing dominoes, passing the time of day in peaceful retirement, the walls of their little hang-out sporting murals that featured some of the most notorious leaders of Latin America.
Since our guide book suggested we get a meal at Versailles (rather oddly named for a Cuban hangout, we thought), we had lunch there. The restaurant is an old bastion of Cuban culture and is suitably decorated with etched glass panes, grand mirrors, wait staff clad in olive green outfits who speak not a word of English and couldn’t understand why, with our olive skin and dark hair, we claimed not to speak Spanish ourselves! In a place that was bustling with lunch time patrons, we saw people dressed to the nines in old-world fashion—pearls and strappy sandals for the women, light suits, ties and well-polished shoes for the men—the maitre d’hotel, a true relic of the 1950s, wore a tie-pin on his superbly knotted tie! Settling down to gigantic Cuban sandwiches made with spicy chorizo (Spanish sausages full of paprika), we found ourselves packing most of them to take home. We could not resist ordering the Cuban Flan, though, a delicious caramel custard, and replete with our superb lunch, we were sorry to leave this enclave of Old Havana behind us. Indeed Versailles was the hotbed of political activity at the time of the controversial Elian Gonzalez case of a few years ago and we could see why. In that atmosphere of great food and stuffed wallets, it was easy to play politics and air opinions. Leaving the air-conditioned coolness of the restaurant behind us with its take-out bakery section featuring some irresistible pastries including the famous guava puffs, we drove off to see the famed South Beach.

 

Finding parking was the most challenging part of our afternoon and we were pleased to finally see a municipal lot that offered reasonable rates. The streets were packed with vacationers, most of whom were rowdy students letting their hair down during Spring Break. We walked on the sands of the famous beach, taking in the large groups of volley ball players who attracted many onlookers. Though the sands were packed to capacity with sunbathers, the water was still too chilly for a dip.

When we’d lingered long enough on the beach, we began our exploration of South Beach’s well-known Art Deco buildings that line the promenade creating a very unique environment indeed (right). Designed and built during the 1920s and 30s, these low buildings, each no more than three storeys tall, make a uniform row of structures with distinctive decorative features. The overhangs or ‘eyebrows’ that separate one floor from the next, the portholes that scream of Miami’s nautical history, the etched glass swing doors featuring pelicans and flamingoes, the Moorish style Mediterranean arches that adorn doorways and windows, gives these buildings a decidedly turn-of-the-century look. Each one bears a classy name such as the Carlyle, the Edison, the Cavalier, the Colony, the Breakwater, the Leslie, the Cardozo, the Adrian, etc. and carries interesting friezes on its façade. As design and decorating trends change, the colors of the buildings reflect them.  The fashion today for soft, quiet tones is seen in the pale shades chosen for front facades.

One of the most frequented of the buildings is the one outside which Italian designer Gianni Versace was murdered a few years ago by a deranged admirer. Scores of tourists posed for pictures on the infamous steps upon which his lifeless body sprawled (left). Today, the building has been turned into an exclusive private club and the guard has a hard time keeping onlookers at bay. The ground floor of each building plays host to a trendy restaurant today, most of which were packed to capacity at dinner time, offering excellent rates on cocktails during early happy hours and a selection of mouthwatering seafood for dinner. Deciding to postpone our own meal to a later hour, we hopped back in our car to explore America’s wealthiest suburb arriving at the famed Coral Gables, a short drive later.

If St. Augustine reflects the handiwork of Henry Flagler and Palm Beach the genius of Addison Mizner, then Coral Gables is the show piece of George Merrick who designed it to accommodate the most prosperous businessmen of the south. A drive around the suburb takes the visitor into an insulated world of more Old Money seen in the immaculate Spanish haciendas hidden behind sprucely trimmed hedges. Driving around was one of the most frustrating parts of our vacation experiences as the suburb follows no grid but meanders its way in a woefully arbitrary fashion. What’s worse is that street signs are concealed at inexplicable angles  in the grass of well-manicured lawns making visual access almost impossible. After stumbling our way through the same streets repeatedly, we gave up, and decided instead to look for the famous hotel called The Biltmore (above) whose tower was designed in imitation of Seville’s La Giralda in Spain. Immense on the outside, we were advised not to miss the interiors and decided to have a drink at one of its bars. We discovered, however, that having seen The Breakers, the Biltmore’s lobby really paled into insignificance. A quick wander later, we were back in our car, heading towards the Miracle Mile where some of the best-known names in the retail business have their enticing showrooms. Indeed, on exploring this street, it seemed as it if we had reached Bridal Central for every second store featured bridal gowns and dresses for the wedding party! Restaurants featuring exotic ethnic cuisine also made their frequent appearance in the midst of large chain stores such as Starbucks and Barnes and Noble.
Hungry by this point in time and eager for sustenance, we decided to have dinner at Miami’s most famous restaurant, Joe’s, where the attraction is the stone crab. Unique crustaceans these, stone crabs are fished out of the waters around Miami; but it is only their claws that are consumed. Once fishermen twist the two front pincers out, they toss the crab back into the water as this species has the ingenious ability to regenerate itself and create new claws. Upon arrival at Joe’s, we found the restaurant overflowing with patrons. Since it accepts no reservations, we were forced to wait for over an hour and decided instead to enjoy Cuba’s most famous cocktail, the Mojito, at the bar where we perched on tall stools to wait.  That was when we discovered we could have smaller portions of the restaurant’s dinner menu while seated at the bar. Over excellent Stone Crab Claws served with spicy mustard sauce and Crab Cakes served with Tartar Sauce, we had ourselves a delicious meal and eliminated the wait. A short while later, we inched our way back to South Beach to see the Art Deco buildings in their late night avatar when the neon lighting on the facades gave them an altogether magical air. Then, we were back on the road nosing towards Dania Beach for the night.

 

Bon Voyage!

 

Key West

Key West

Carefree in Key West

The next day, we were up and doing rather early to start our long drive to Southern Florida and into the Florida Keys. The “Keys” is the collective name given to the string of islands that juts out into the Gulf of Mexico from the southernmost tip of Florida. Once coral reefs that came up to the surface through volcanic activity, they now peek out above the waters forming a chain. The drive from the first Key (Key Largo) to the last one (Key West) takes about two hours, so one ought to reserve a great deal of time to truly explore the Keys.
You cannot fail but be enchanted by this part of the state. The water is crystalline and an incredibly aquamarine blue as far as the eye can see. Gentle waves lap the shores of each island. If you have a clear day under cloudless skies, you will feel as if you are driving out deep into the ocean. The drive itself is so marvelous that I understood the truth of the old adage—“It is not just the destination but the journey that makes travel so fulfilling”. That was how psychologically satisfied I felt that morning. I could have driven like that forever and never have become fatigued.

It is difficult to tell when one Key ends and the next begins. Some are so miniscule that they do not even feature on a map. Others are far more substantial and deserve visits all their own—Islamorada (pronounced “Eye-la-mo-ra-da”) is a great base for scuba diving in the Florida Coral Reef and is the “fishing capital of the world”. Marathon is equally important. We refrained from stopping anywhere, however, enjoying the passing landscape as it flew by our windows. The streets were dotted with shops and restaurants doing rather sleepy business on that beautiful March morning. Once in the Middle Keys, we drove over Seven Mile Bridge and saw the older railway bridge of Henry Flagler (now lying in disuse) on our left. Anglers dotted the pedestrian walks along the bridges, sharing space companionably and unbelievably with an amazing variety of bird life such a giant pelicans, colorful storks, black cormorants, snow white egrets and gulls in every size, shape and form. Bird droppings encrusted the bridges and telephone lines throughout our journey, the antics of their creators making any distraction impossible.

 

 

 

 

 

It was past noon by the time we arrived at Key West and found ourselves starving for a meal. It seemed only logical that we would go out in search of Margaritaville Café (right) , only the most famous restaurant on the island, having been opened by Key West pop icon Jimmy Buffet who put the little hamlet on the international music map. “Wasting away again in Margaritaville/Searching for my last shaker of salt/ Some people claim that there’s a woman to blame/But I  know, its nobody’s fault”.

The cafe seems deceptively little from the outside. Inside, it is cavernous and suitably dim. Packed to capacity on that Spring Break weekend with collegians out bogeying, we waited a while before ordering a salted frozen margarita (duh?) and the culinary specialties of the island—conch fritters and conch chowder. Both were delicious indeed and made a very tasty meal as Jimmy Buffet hits played in the background.
Outside, we passed by Sloppy Joe’s Bar, favorite hangout of novelist Ernest Hemingway who made Key West his home for many years. It too was buzzing with party animals inside. The stores selling T-shirts with the funniest visuals and sayings on them, Caribbean-styled churches that glistened white in the strong sun, gingerbread houses in the distinctive plantation style of the South with wide upper and lower level porches and gardens filled with tropical foliage and flowers drew our attention everywhere. Nibblin’ on sponge cake,/Watchin’ the sun bake;/All of those tourists covered with oil./Strummin’ my six string on my front porch swing./Smell those shrimp/They’re beginnin’ to boil. The lyrics of Buffet’s song echoed repeatedly in my mind as I passed those spacious porches and those swiftly-tanning tourists. Key West is an attitude, sang Buffet, and he was not mistaken. You get the feeling that you have left the United States behind and entered the laid-back world of the Caribbean Islands in these parts.

 

 

 

 

(Outside Hemingway’s house–left–and a view of his Bedroom with one of his six-toed paws lounging on it)

 

 

 

 

(Hemingway’s Study and The Notorious Cat Fountain in his garden)

With the sun growing warm on our backs, we hastened off to Whitehead Street to see Hemingway House, a lovely green and lemon double storied plantation style center hall colonial home set in the lushest gardens. Hemingway lived in this home for nine of the most productive years of his life while married to his second wife Pauline Pfeiffer and raising his two sons, Christopher and Patrick. There, ensconced in a world of tropical greenery and cats, scores of them– more than fifty of them–he wrote about 700 words by mid-morning, then left for a bout of deep-sea fishing with his friend Gregorio Fuentes who became the character Santiago in his Pulitzer Prize-winning novel The Old Man and The Sea. Back in the late evening, he returned from the waves and walked to Sloppy Joe’s for his daily tipple—not a bad life by any stretch of the imagination!  This routine seemed to work rather successfully, until he went off on his next voyage to somewhere exotic, caught the eye of another enticing lady and entered, like Picasso, into another passionate and artistically productive relationship and phase of his life.

A very enthusiastic guide, a Hemingway look-a-like–complete with goatee beard and mariner’s hat–took us around the home, introducing us to the personal minutea of Hemingway’s life. We saw the master bedroom on which one of the cats, a ginger tabby called Archie (short for Archibald McLeish) sprawled contentedly. The bed’s headboard was custom-made of beautifully carved ebony brought back from the novelist’s travels in Africa. We were able to visit his study, cut off by the rest of the house in another building but connected to it in his own lifetime, by a catwalk. His desk, cigar-maker’s chair and bookcases proclaimed a fairly Spartan lifestyle. The typewriter was somewhat misleading as Hemingway was notorious for having penned all his novels in long hand. Still, peering into his study gave us an evocative glimpse into a life lived with zest and a passionate vigor. “Papa” Hemingway has not become an iconic figure in American literature for nothing. His hard swearing, hard drinking, hard womanizing ways, his big game hunting in Africa, his deep sea fishing in Cuba, his bar hopping in Paris, his war wounds received while a foreign correspondent in Italy during World War II and the Spanish Civil War, have all contributed enormously to his aura and all of this was evident on our tour. Indeed, the place seems to emanate a spirit of adventure that was purely thrilling and I loved every inch of it. At the beautiful Olympic sized pool, created for him by Pauline as a surprise, we saw the penny, now encased in concrete that he tossed at her when he discovered that building the pool had cost $20,000 saying, in disgust, “Well, he (the builder) might as well take the last penny I’ve got!” We saw also the famous Cat Fountain salvaged by “Sloppy” Joe Russel from what were once urinals in an old Key West theater. Hemingway requested that he be given one of them, then turned it into a drinking trough for his cats, much to Pauline’s disgust. Discovering that he could not be persuaded to get rid of it, she had it embellished with Spanish ceramic tiles. Funnily enough, not a single one of the cats ever drinks from it!

We could not leave Key West without taking the mandatory pictures at the garishly-painted concrete pillar that marks “The Southernmost Point of the Continental United States”. Lapped by ferocious waves, the area is usually mobbed by visitors, eager to get their pictures taken at the unusual landmark. We also took our pictures by the road signpost marking Zero Mile on Route 1 which runs south to north all along the US East Coast right past our home in Connecticut. Then, making our way back to the car park at Mallory Square where gigantic papier mache figures replicating a scene from one of August Renoir’s most famous paintings, stood outside the Museum of Fine Art by the water’s edge where grand cruise ships dock daily.

On our way back, we hopped off at Key Largo to have dinner at The Fish House Restaurant that’s serves the best seafood in the Keys. Between the stuffed shrimp and the stuffed mushrooms, we had a hearty meal, downed with occasional sips of a Rum Runner, a famous Southern Floridian cocktail that is well known in these parts. Needless to say, we couldn’t leave the Keys without partaking of its most famous dessert—Key Lime Pie it was for us, tangy-sweet and amazingly delicious.

Bon Voyage!

Florida

Footloose and Fancy Free in Florida

(Welcome to Florida sign on the highway at the state border)

They don’t call it “Sunny Florida” without good reason. Our escape southwards for Spring Break of 2007 showed us exactly why the Snowbirds flock there each winter. Everywhere we traveled, throughout the length and breadth of the state, the sun shone fiercely but never oppressively. There was no humidity at all to irritate us or sap our reserves of energy. Walking around in shorts and T-shirts, it was difficult to believe that several latitudes above us in the same country, snow was falling steadily.
Deciding to keep such thoughts at bay, Llew and I set out on another journey of discovery. We realized quickly enough that it wasn’t just Spring Break for colleges in New York but everywhere along the East Coast. Every venue was buzzing with the vivacious energy of college students out to have so much fun one might have thought it was not their midterms that were done but their finals!  Though we’d both been to Florida separately before, our exploration had been confined to the Orlando corridor to see the Disney amusement parks. We resolved to leave that area well alone this time round, and drove along the east coast, arriving about 17 hours later (with an overnight stop at Richmond, Virginia) at the very northernmost point of the state—and boy, were we glad to see the sign that proclaimed, “Welcome to Florida”. Llew was so pleased, he leaned out of the car to get a passing shot of the billboard!

Amelia Island and Fernandina Beach:

At the northernmost point of Florida is Amelia Island, a historic parcel of land once home to a thriving industry in pirateering. Fernandina Beach is the biggest draw today and as we drove into the little town, we could see why. A charming main street, the Silk Stocking district, filled with old Victorian homes, now nicely refurbished, calls out compulsively to the visitor. A stroll to the waterside allowed us to see shrimping boats come in for the evening as the skies turned salmon pink over the Atlantic Ocean.  Lively bars, trendy restaurants and pricey boutiques vied for our attention with the Queen Anne style houses decorated with pretty gingerbread trim. Loads of sculpture, nodding to the pirates and buccaneers of old, lined the streets. Right on the beach, there were old Peg Leg and Long John Silver looking appropriately sinister. The arrival of the cross-Florida railroad in the 1850s brought tourists to the area and the redevelopment of the downtown district began. We did not linger long on Amelia, packing out in a couple of hours to make our way to Jacksonville where we spent the night.

More About Florida:

To read more about our travels in each of Florida’s fascinating cities, please click on the relevant links above.

Our Return Home:

Our return home was marred by awful traffic in Southern Florida which cleared once we left Orlando behind. We spent one night in the charming coastal town of Beaufort in the Gulag, or “Low Country” of South Carolina, then sped our way back to Connecticut, the next day, refreshed beyond belief by a vacation that had afforded us 80 plus degree temperatures daily and nary a drop of rain or a snow flurry. Thanks to our trusty GPS, we put in more than three thousand miles on our Subaru Outback and explored parts of the state we hadn’t even dreamed of seeing. But we loved most parts of our vacation and were glad to have covered so much ground in so short a time. Returning home to a recent blizzard that left three inches of snow on our driveway, was sobering indeed and proclaimed loudly the end of our completely lovely spring vacation.

Bon Voyage!

Sonoma County

Sonoma County: A Colonial Spanish Remnant

(Among the grape-laden vineyards of Sonoma County)

The beauty of the Sonoma Valley came to me as a huge surprise. So much is written about Napa, so little about its equally stunning twin. In fact, Sonoma has far more history and Spanish culture than it’s better-known counterpart. Our entry into the area was heralded by the presence along the highway of extensive vineyards heavily laden with rich purple and jewel-like green grapes. In the distance, occasionally, one spied passing wineries with their showrooms presenting a Tuscan façade—red tiled roofs, adobe walls, heather, lavender and rosemary amidst their fragrant gardens. It was truly heavenly and I couldn’t wait to explore a few.


But since it would be foolish to indulge in ‘tastings’ on an empty stomach, Tonus, our tour guide,  cleverly took care of our appetites first, driving us to Sonoma Plaza which immediately reminded me of the grand plaza in Santa Fe, New Mexico—and for very good reason indeed.

The Plaza  with its handsome theater(left) was the outcome of the creation of a Spanish mission in the area, the last one built by the industrious Fr. Junipero Serra, who traveled throughout the Californian coast setting up his missions. The Sonoma Mission House still stands today and may be visited for it is run as a museum. Right next door to it is the Toscano Hotel, a two-storey wood frame building that dates from the 1850s and which the visitor can tour if time permits. The plaza itself, a square shaped patch of lawn with a sprinkling of sculptural monuments, was full of visitors picnicking on the pickings they had obtained from the famous Sonoma Jack Cheese Factory where Tonus took us to find sustenance.

And what a treat that turned out to be! While I foraged for a packaged sandwich, made fresh on the premises, I wandered around to the Cheese section where there were any amount of Jack cheeses available for sampling. You name the Jack cheese, they had it—Jalapeno Jack, Black Pepper Jack, Mild Jack, Extra Sharp Jack, etc. The store also thoughtfully provided slices of pepperoni and salami and a delicious cheese spread with a vast bin full of cubed bread, any number of toothpicks and loads of waste bins to toss them away. For cheese lovers, this was heaven, and being a cheese lover, I thought I had died and gone up there as I ate my fill, my sandwich going untouched in my bag. The Sonoma Cheese Factory has been producing Jack cheese since the 1930s and visitors can watch the process through a window in the back.
I, however, preferred to explore the town, making a complete circle on foot around the square (if such a thing is possible) and browsing freely in the many chic shops that line the plaza. As might be expected, there were gift stores galore competing with food and wine stores, upscale restaurants, and even a very old theater.

At one end of the plaza is the lovely stone City Hall (left) , a Mission Revival Building that sports a clock on its façade and proudly flies the Star Spangled Banner—a far cry, of course, from the days when California was Spanish colonial territory and home to thousands of Mexicans. Once gold was found in the region, boom—it became US territory. Down came the Spanish flag and up went the Stars and Stripes.
Once we clambered on to the bus again, our serious discovery of Sonoma Wine Country began. Tonau, a wine connoisseur himself, took us to two wineries that afternoon—what he called “a boutique” winery and a “mass-production” one. The boutique winery is called Homewood Wineries and is the brainchild of David Homewood who produces no more than 3,000 bottles per year from vineyards that lie just beyond his oak barrels.

It was such a delight to move into the tasting room where Pierre, David Homewood’s PR Man, gave the ten of us a wonderfully enlightening lecture/demonstration/tasting that lasted over an hour during which time we tasted, compared and rated about ten wines produced on site.
I am amazed at how much I learned in that single afternoon.

Next stop: The mass-production winery called Viansa, a totally lovely Tuscan-style villa perched high up on a hill and surrounded by picturesque gardens and vine-ripened fruit ready for the picking (left) . We piled out of the bus and made our way to the main home where the oak barrels are kept ageing in underground caves, then made our way to the ‘loggia’ or back of the house. There, picnic tables were thoughtfully laid out for the pleasure of visitors who trooped into the adjoining deli where a true cornucopia of delights awaited.

As in Napa, so too here, I wound my way through the appetizing aisles sampling every manner of olive, mustard, salsa, cheese, horseradish dip, and for dessert, chocolate sauce, cookies and biscotti, all made fresh on the premises and bottled or packaged for easy carry-home convenience. I had just eaten such a vast selection of cheeses at the Sonoma Jack Cheese Factory but that did not stop me from nibbling at leisure through these amazing food aisles. I decided to give the wines a miss, though I’m sure they were quite wonderful. I felt that three full glasses an afternoon was about as much as I could handle and having had my fill at Homewood, I couldn’t sip another glass. Outside, on the patio, the sun shone warmly, a slight breeze stirred over the vineyards and wafted towards the distant hills. Blue skies dotted with fluffy clouds completed the picture of my Italian idyll and if I closed my eyes, I could have easily transported myself to a tiny village in Umbria or Tuscany—it was that seductive.

Make a visit to Sonoma not just for the wines but for the history and culture preserved, as if in aspic, in this part of Northern California that is a true Colonial Spanish remnant.

Bon Voyage!