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Published: October 23rd 2006
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Woke up with the stench of Atlantic Shores serving as a not-so-sweet reminder of my not-so-sweet bed for the night.
A quick shower and I checked out, signing off a Matercard receipt for 110 bucks. Not the best start to the day, but they did let me park for free after I had checked out. It seems that even this dark Atlantic Shore cloud has a silver lining.
The must do's of Key West as told to me are the sunset and Hemingway's House. The sunset, as you know, was a non-event so my massive investment in Key West hinged on Hemingway's House. If it's good enough for Palin it'd better be good enough for me.
After paying the necessary 11 bucks admission I was in. I walked up the steps and was welcomed by a man offering me a "personal" tour of the house whilst gicing me the opportunity to admire the bushiest moustache ever witnessed by a 28 year old Scotsman.
Now, given Key West's status as the gay capital of Florida and the proudly displayed 'tache, I was a little confused as to the offer. Was he offering a "
personal" tour or a personal
tour. Was he an employee of the Hemingway House or simply a man who mis-interpreted my tired face as one that knew how to enjoy a night in the Keys. I politely, and perhaps with a touch too much heterosexuality, turned down his offer and embarked on a lone tour of the house.
I must admit that the main attraction to me of the house was the colony of polydactyl cats. These excessively toed cats were a must have for vessels on the high seas, where they were considered lucky. Hemingway apparently won his first cat from a passing sailor through a bet at the local boozer. The collection has now expanded to 46 carefree cats in residence as Papa's place.
The house is like any other house open to the public; everything interesting is either behind glass, rope, or has been removed many years ago.
The cats made up for it though. Friendly and obviously accustomed to camera happy tourists. There was one ugly example in particular; skeletal, stupidly big ears and a pathetic miaow. In fact if wasn't for the absence of a vile smell I could have sworn it was Kittten.
After
an amusing half hour I left the felines alone and continued my walking tour of Key West.
A cruise ship was in dock and the freshly dis-embarked passenegers swelled the narrow streets, dipping in and out of the shops buying anything and evertything that had Key West emblazoned upon it.
AT THIS POINT MY INTERNET CONNECTION FAILED AND I LOST ABOUT 18 PARAGRAPHS OF TEXT THAT HAD TAKEN ME A LIFETIME TO WRITE
I left the Keys much as I entered them - deflated. I had hoped for so much more; more what I don't know, just more.
I drove back over the Keys, allowing myself more time to stop, breathe the air and soak in the sights.
The pictures fortunately do not do it justice, it truly is an exceptionally beautiful location. I'm glad the photo's don't convey the beaulty fully as it allows me the smug feeling that you really have to have been there to fully appreciate it.
I followed US1 up to Miami, taking the causeway over to the Island of Miami Beach.
I was on my way to my first night in a hostel. This time
I was determined and confident, knowing that there were private rooms available. Basically I was going to break myself in by spending my first night in a hostel in a room by myself rather than sharing with 7 others.
I navigated my way through South Beach finding a multi-storey car park close the Clay Hotel. For the first time I zipped my backpacks together to form the motherpack, strapped it to my back, grasped my playmate in my left hand and headed down the dark, dank urine scented stairs to the main street.
Walking the 300 yards the hostel I passed two down-and-outs sleeping in shop doorways, countless drunks and one strip club. I made a mental note; 2310 Washinton Avenue ther is a Strip Club - result!
Checking into the hostel was a pleasant affair with a smiley German staff member making all the right noises. She directed me to my room, 2 blocks west, swipe my card through the exterior gate, second floor room 6.
Shortly, I was in my room. Didn't look too bad but it sounded horrendous. It was so loud I tried to close the window, finding it was already tighly
shut.
I dumped my bags and then tried out the shared toilet. Problem is I couldn't find the lock. Sure there was a lock on my door, but none on the adjoining room's door. I ended up taking a slash with one foot blocking the neighbour's door, almost spread-eagling myself across the bathroom. That was my first and last visit to the bathroom.
this is turning into a novel rather than a blog so I will summarise the next 3 nights
Checked into hotel Lorraine the next day; And I though I would never spend another night in Lorraine!
Walked the beach
Did my laundry
Admired the many beautiful people
Felt sorry for the many homeless people
Enjoyed being in a real city
Worried about the crime
Had the best breakfast I have ever tasted
Admired the rich people's houses from aboard a duck
Saw the worlds most exclusive car
Then went to a motorshow and saw all the others
Enjoyed 3 sunsets
Saw Verscace's house, where he whas shot dead on the steps
Met a friendly local on the beach called Dusty.
Well, he was friendly until he asked my name and I told him "Sandy". He left soon after.
Saw the Goodyear Blimp
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