Saturday morning we wandered around the Coconut Grove Arts Festival until the heat got too much for our Chicago friends and we beat a retreat to downtown, passing my favorite food truck - Mr. Good Stuff - on the way. But the salade Nicoise at Le Bouchon banished (nearly) all my thoughts of a stuffed arepa. And the large poster of pastis on the front wall was the first piece of art I'd coveted all day.
Back in the car, I took Bird Road to Ponce de Leon, cutting through Coral Gables and then hanging a right on Calle Ocho and then a left at 22nd. I wanted to show everyone the new Marlins stadium, and when we drove past the giant flying saucer - so incongruous and white in that homey hood - everyone was appropriately impressed. Heading back to Calle Ocho we passed a man selling fruit from his truck and talking to neighbors who sat in chairs on the sidewalk. In Little Havana you can still find people who have perfected the art of loafing; if any of these men had a smartphone he wasn't letting on. And yet sitting there chatting on a warm February afternoon they were more connected - to the moment - than any kid on a computer.
On Calle Ocho busloads of tourists were being deposited at Dominoes Park, and a woman was posing for a picture with the long-faced smoker in front of the cigar shop. We drank Cuban coffee at Le Pub, took a stroll past the Tower Theater and, across the street, ducked into the eclectic interior of CubaOcho, the bar/gallery/nightclub with a courtyard that seemed transplanted from Vedado.
We took a quick spin through Mary Brickell Village, up through downtown, and into Wynwood, where the murals exceeded anything we saw at the arts festival. (I remarked silently to myself how my tour of Miami is ever-changing, ever-expanding.)
Just north of the Design District we parked near the Buena Vista Deli, where the two celiacs feasted on meringues and I eyed the pain au chocolate. My only regret, as we drove through the leafy side streets, was that the Royal Poincianas weren't in bloom.
