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Published: April 21st 2010
Southermost Point
Photo op! The whole SV Trade Wind crewBreakfast at a comfortable diner where the kitsch sports bunny ears to signal the upcoming Easter holiday and photos of old movie stars troop around the room. We’re on foot for the rest of the day. The houses vary between cute beach-types to run-down, weathered messes, palm trees, my beloved bougainvillea (the darling of any tropical locale), roosters crowing everywhere. Turns out roosters and chickens were used as pest control in the early previous century and now they’re considered cultural artifacts and allowed to roam unmolested.
After a photo op at the Southernmost Point (of the US), we cut over to Ernest Hemingway’s House and join in on a guided tour. This is a house where one can’t help but imagine ladies in 1930’s organdy and straw sun-hats swishing lemonade on the verandas while men wear white summer suits, hands in pockets, leaning against the railing. “I could live here,” I whisper to Lauren. But then I remember that this is only March and the comfort-level of these breezy rooms takes a sharp nose-dive as the heat and humidity rises. But right now, all is perfect. The rooms are filled with floor-to-ceiling windows and rickety cats (another cultural thing) while the
house itself is shaded by green trees and hemmed by gardens. Our tour guide regales us with the family-appropriate salacious doings of the great author and his numerous wives, the story of the pool and his work-room that was only reachable via a bridge between the house and the second story of the coach-house.
We split up after that. Some folks want to relax and have a drink as the sun ups the ante but Lauren, Scott and I feel the urge to get the most out of our few hours in Key West (we’re heading back to Marathon and our nautical steed tonight). The three of us head to the historical Fort Zachary Taylor. The Fort is not much, just concrete blocks crumbling due to age and weather, but then we go to the cemetery in the middle of the western portion of the island. This is the highest point on the island which was necessary since the first cemetery in the early 1800’s washed away during a hurricane, leaving bones and decaying corpses strewn amongst the mangroves. After that, the islanders picked their resting spot more carefully. The cemetery is expansive with “neighborhoods” of different religions, families, and
socio-economic classes. The art is not that incredible but the names are amusing/interesting as are some of the stories. One of my favorites is the well-off family that included granite headstones for three family pooches and one domesticated Key West deer.
We happen upon the rest of our crew amidst the crypts and then move toward the highly-recommended (by taxi drivers and other locals we’ve accosted) Cuban restaurant on Catherine St. It’s an unassuming place but the food speaks for itself. My options are strictly limited since most of the items have meat but the beans and rice (moros y cristianos!), yucca frita, and glass of chilly margarita make up for it.
After dinner, it’s back to the hotel, bus station, and then to Marathon. I wish I had just one more day in Key West but alas. We decide that the night is still young and we check out the Marathon night life. Only two bars are recommended to us and we walk for about fifteen minutes to get to the first one. The place is packed…with men. When we walk in, five women and just two guys, all eyes are on us. It’s almost unnerving. It’s definitely a
locals’ place though a few obvious out-of-towners like us are there too. We throw darts, order greasy bar food, and dance for a short while to the fun, mismatched live band. It sprinkles gently as we return to our floating home and settle back into the boat life.
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