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)

Miami - Thursday 3rd July

Today was extreme-cycle day. Up at 7, breakfasted and ready to roll at 8.30am...

TARGET DESTINATION: Bal and Bay Harbours
DISTANCE: 80 blocks
TEMPERATURE: 80 at 10am rising to 86 at 12pm
MADNESS LEVEL: 6
ROAD TYPE: 3 lanes
AVG. CAR SPEED: Snails pace
SUPPLIES: 3 x cans of Heineken

This shot is of Collins Avenue, a very long road that goes all the way to where I'm going and then some. And I'm off! Basically the route goes something like this: Hotel, Hotel, Hotel, Condominium. Hotel, Hotel, Hotel, Condominium - you get the picture. Not much going on. After 73rd street I am pretty tired but enjoying the ride and exercise and then... I'm there.

Where exactly? I am confused. There are signs everywhere: No entry, No cycling, No stopping, Just "No". Got an Amex? Then come on in. Got a battered old bike and a red face? Get lost sister.

Checking my compass (geek) I find a small path between two giant apartment blocks with crazy expensive frontages and head down to the beach and harbour. At the end of it I am 20 metres from the sea facing a 'No cycling' sign. "Screw You Uncle Sam! I have just cycled an Olympic distance and I will not be kept from my hero's boat for anyone." On I go...

No boats. No harbour. Nada. Just rich people, in rich outfits, being rich. Where is this place? I decide to rest as it's hotter than hell and take this hilarious photo of myself breaking the law. And then it happens, my first flirt with the 'law'. "Whoop" goes the siren, where did he come from? Outer space?

"Ma'am is that your bicycle?"
"What, the one I'm pushing? Er, yes Occifer"
"Did you happen to see that 'No cycling' sign you're leaning on?"
"Crikey, No! What a fool, So sorry."

I am then stared at for quite a few hair-raising moments before being escorted away, away, away. Get out you working class scum, you might infect someone!

Good grief.

So back on the highway looking for any harbour at this point. I ask but no-one knows. It is now 12.37 and I start to panic. At 1pm I must, MUST, be sitting on the boardwalk dangling my feet in the water and eating the cream cheese sandwich I prepared for the occasion (Dexter, Season 2). I ride around like a maniac for 20 mins, I'm sure my ears are on fire I'm so hot but to no avail. At 1pm I stop by the road; what a pathetic creature I must look like. I sit and dangle my legs over the edge of the roadside barrier.

"What are you doing?"
"I'm eating my lunch Morgan. I always eat my lunch at one o'clock." (sniff)

The ride back is utterly exhausting, I am out of water, my heart is sunk and nowhere is there a corner store, gas station, nothing. Rich people it seems do not require the indie-shop. Eventually I surmise that a side road would be better and turn off to find a place. as you can see I am not best amused a this point.

However, after a bottle of Liptons Ice Tea I am revived enough to make you this very short little video of my trip home.


NB: I have no idea how to rotate-right (sorry)

When I got back I decided to dine in honour of my favourite DJ, my favourite Painter and one of my Favourite films.
Which cheered me up immensely :-)

Tomorrow is the 4th of July and I am in two minds about whether to get a henna tattoo of the union Jack on my forehead. They're only $18.88. What do you think?