My friend Pam stayed for the weekend, with her partner Marguerite, and I gave them my tour of Miami – starting with Coral Gables before her reading on Friday. Only minutes after entering the city, Pam pointed out something I had never noticed before. As we left Miracle Mile, and waited in traffic on Coral Way, city hall on the left, a two-story apartment building on the right, Pam said, “I’ve never seen stone shutters before.” And looking over, I saw that the apartment building had what looked like shutters but were inlays of decorative brown stones. It will now be pointed out on every tour.
Yesterday heat advisories were issued for Miami-Dade and Broward counties. Late in the afternoon, I went out on the balcony to read. Because of the cloud cover, there had been no sun for a few hours, so it was not unbearably hot. In fact, after I had adjusted to the warm embrace, after the air-conditioning inside, it felt rather pleasant being outside. Then a soft rain started to fall, which cooled things down even more. I started to feel a little uncomfortable in my T-shirt and went inside for a long-sleeved shirt.
The new plaza on Las Olas Boulevard is nearing completion, a small but integral piece of land over the Kinney Tunnel that, despite its size, will have a street running through it: SE 6th Avenue. The street was there before but I assumed that the plaza would eliminate it. That, really, is the definition of a plaza: a space free of traffic for people to congregate in. The City of Fort Lauderdale has spent over a year and millions of dollars to construct a plaza that will have cars passing through it. I was puzzled when the ground floors of the riverfront condos filled with gyms and conference rooms instead of restaurants and cafes – à la San Antonio – but that was a (mostly) missed opportunity beyond the city’s control. This latest downtown development is a corruption of public space – new, planned, landscaped public space – that is beyond comprehension.
It's the second week of May and I'm sitting here with the window open. And still eating meals on the balcony (again).
It’s hard these days to be shocked by something you read in the newspaper, but the front page of today’s Miami Herald did the trick for me. Apparently, there are two bills before the Florida legislature that propose removing protections for historic buildings and districts in coastal areas.
If passed – in a state that’s like catnip for developers – it could signal the end of St. Augustine as we know it, and the death of Ocean Drive, a street that, despite its struggles in recent years, is still one of the most beautiful in America. Ocean Drive was the catalyst for the revival of Miami Beach and its return as a glamorous destination; destroying its lineup of Art Deco hotels would turn South Beach into a subtropical Atlantic City.
Last night just before midnight our Cuban neighbor called to tell us that the water in the garage was up to his knees and that we should move our car. I recently had seven stitches removed from my lower leg (basal cell carcinoma) so he kindly and successfully got the car out for us, and parked it in an impromptu parking lot in front of our building, which is on a slight rise. Hania and I spent the next hour trying to empty the back seat of water. (The floor in the front was a little damp but otherwise OK.)
This morning we discovered that both canals overflowed onto the dock – first time we’ve seen that in 34 years here. I might take a bike ride later today; for now, my car is blocked by about half a dozen others. The garage now is one extensive puddle streaked with dirt, so there’s no returning there until it’s cleaned up.
At least now perhaps the snowbirds will leave.