Miami - Saturday 5th July

I didn't wake up until 9. Missed breakfast and ache all over - again. My feeble body is pants. That's English pants, we're not talking trousers here. Plus I have a headache.

Shall I mope about today? Shall I heck. I'm city bound!

Today, after a slow start and le interweb I decide to head downtown and checkout Little Havana. It's quite a distance but the weather is cool, windy and a few showers: perfect for cycling.

No chance of sunburn today. Before I head out I get some money - and find a drive-in ATM. Can you believe that? How lazy can people be - or is it clever and convenient?



Part way there and drizzle turns into rain, and my ride turns into a marathon journey.



Two causeways and a dual carriageway later and my once white shorts are now brown. When I get to the outskirts of the city I decide an emergency fashion shop is in order and buy two pairs of 3/4 length dark trousers immediately. Plus I get changed into one of them in the store - the guy running it is a star. ($18.88 - bargain!)

Typical of any city a tourist MUST arrive at the seediest part. Think Kings Cross or Waterloo when you don't know where you're going. After getting hassled for money I decide I should find somewhere for lunch and check the map. A little Cuban place is my choice where my pigeon Spanish gets me fresh lemonade and a croquette (cheese & ham toasted sarnie). And then I head off to Little Havana.

15 blocks.
15 blocks of Cuban cigar places, Spanish frontages and generally non-America. It's very sweet but also quite daunting as it's so different. I suddenly realise I'm racing through this place and must be suffering from TF = Tourist Fear. This is an unjustified feeling of fear based on lack of knowledge of surroundings. I always suffer from this, as I expect most non-travellers do, when I don't know a place and I'm on my own.

I master the fear, and look through a few record shops and general stores. It's weird. Most of the places are closed (just like Spain) but if I'd ever been to South America I could swear it was just like that.

I stop at some lights and glance down at my arms. Hmm, getting somewhere with the tan at least.

"Hey!". (What the....)
"Are you from Boston?"
I see who is taking to me, a slightly drunk young man walking towards me.

"Man, you're so white you look like a Ghost!" (Great)
"Er, no I'm from England actually."
"England. Jeez, what the hell are you doin' here?" (Good bloody question.)
"Be careful on the roads man. Look, when you get where you're going have this beer on me".
He shoves a Budweiser in a plastic bag into my bike basket and pats me on the shoulder.
"You sure are a pretty girl from Boston though, you know?"
I'm off pal!
"Thanks" I holler over my shoulder and hurtle down the road.
Christ, maybe TF is right. I better get out of here.

I go a few more blocks before heading back. TF means I don't get my main camera out but I manage a few good shots with the phone.

The city on the other hand is dead. I guess as it's a Saturday there are no city people here. But there are apartment buildings everywhere. Or should I said apartments being built everywhere. Was reading in the TO gospel about the worry that the amount of buildings may not equate to the amount of people that actually want to live here. Guess that's proving right. There's not much to do and it's getting late so I head back. If I'd got my act together earlier I would have had time to do Wynwood and the Design District - guess I'll put that on the Lost Opportunities post.

45 minute cycle back = gruelling, should be easy but for some reason I'm feeling very tired and I literally crawl into my hotel.

Wimbledon Mens Final tomorrow! (oh the joys of home)