South Beach, Miami

As you may have noticed on ye olde blog, both we and I have recently become frequent Caribbean travelers. From L.A., this generally involves at least two flights with a layover in Miami, a city we really enjoy.

One recent day of American Airlines travel to Aruba featured a staggering 6-hour layover at MIA. A long time to stay in the airport, to be sure, but too short for a whole day in the city.

So…what to do with just a few hours in Miami?

Before attempting an outer-airport Miami layover, either seek out baggage storage in Concourse E, or make sure you’ve checked your baggage through to your next flight. Either way, keep your carry-on light.

Also, make sure to wear an outfit that layers. MIA Airport tends to be heavily air-conditioned, but it’s usually 80° F outside.

We’d encourage you to head for Miami Beach.

But first, you have to find your way out of the airport.

Map of Concourses at MIA

MIA’s North Terminal has been under renovation since 2005, and waffles between swanky art museum and dusty ghost town. There are precious few signs, no people movers and endless distances.  In 2011, what are now Concourses A, B and D will be one large Concourse D, featuring the Oneworld Alliance: American Airlines, British Airways, Canadian Airlines, Cathay Pacific, Qantas and more.

But that’s in 2011.

As we searched for an escape route from the present Concourse D, we did the logical thing and headed towards baggage claim. We walked for about one mile, still on the second floor. (Did I mention there are precious few signs?)  We asked no fewer than six airport employees how to find a taxi. Each one of them said the same thing: “You have to get downstairs to the first floor. Just keep on going [pointing to their left] that way.”

We gave up and managed to get outside at one point, but found no escalator or stairs amidst chain link fencing and planked-over walkways…and came back in.

Almost by chance, on the line between Concourses D and E, just past a closed La Carreta restaurant, we found a freight elevator on our left. We looked around as if in fear of being placed on the do-not-fly list, caught the eye of an assenting security guy and rode our way down to freedom. (I wish you similar godspeed.)

A tax stand materialized almost instantly…but know that cab rides in this town ain’t cheap. MIA is only 8 miles from downtown Miami, but it was $32 one way to South Miami/Miami Beach.

However, we’d have only saved $4 on the slower, multi-stop Super Shuttle. Here’s the taxi/shuttle rate chart for several destinations around greater Miami.

We could have saved a lot if only we’d asked about the Metrobus. There’s a computerized EASY pass booth and waiting area in Concourse E across from self-parking (see my map link above). There are several bus routes to/from MIA (see “Metrobus serving MIA”), but the one to Miami Beach is Route J.

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The glorious sand of South Beach

Once we’d reached Miami Beach (via a 20-minute cab ride), here’s what we did:

Had a late lunch at Joe’s Stone Crab (11 Washington Avenue, (305) 673-0365). The restaurant closes for awhile in the mid-afternoon, but you can sit down next door at the pretty carry-out section. I’d say skip the gumbo (it’s pretty bland) and have your gorgeous stone crab claws pre-cracked for you.

Walked two blocks and strolled the glorious sand of South Beach.

Departed said sand at Ocean Drive, washing our feet at the beachside showers. There are countless Art Deco hotels and restaurants here.

We, however, walked up one block to Collins Avenue.

We then walked far too many blocks in the hot sun to reach a mojito at The Delano (1685 Collins Avenue, (305) 672-2000). During the day, non-guests aren’t allowed out by the pool, but you can order a cocktail in the shaded restaurant that overlooks it. After we’d relaxed a while and canoodled on a fuzzy settee, we wafted outside to a cab hailed just for us.

Next time, I’d stop several blocks sooner at the Hemisphere Lounge in the Loews (1601 Collins Avenue, (305) 604-1601).

The only advantage to our epic hike: We saw Mystery, star of Neil Strauss’ bestselling book The Game: Penetrating the Secret Society of Pickup Artists and the subsequent VH1 reality show, schooling two young nerds in the art of love.  To us, this was well worth a little sweat.

TAXI SEARCH:  25 minutes
TAXI RIDE: 20 minutes ($32 + tip = $40)
LUNCH AT JOE’S STONE CRAB:  1 hour ($34.60)
WALKING, BEACH & STREET:  40 minutes
DRINKS AT THE DELANO:  1 hour ($24 + tip = 28)
TAXI RIDE: 20 minutes ($32 + tip = $40)
BACK THROUGH SECURITY : 25 minutes
TOTAL TIME & COST:  about 4 hours ($142.60)

Once back at our gate, we had just shy of two hours still to wait. We grabbed a couple of café con leches at an MIA outpost of our beloved Cafe Versailles and settled in with books and magazines and music.

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My mom had another great suggestion for a Miami layover:

She and my Dad once fled MIA for the downtown Hyatt Regency by hopping on the inexpensive hotel shuttle (again, see this map), storing their luggage behind the hotel’s counter, having a long lunch, using the pool, sprucing up in the gym, and hopping a shuttle back. Brilliant.

Or, if you’ve never been to Miami and want to do a little time-conscious sightseeing:

Book one of several 3-hour Gray Line City Tours, with the ability to hop on or off to do more exploring.

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See related posts
Our Miami Top 10
Miami: A Mid-Week Wander
Death by Cubano Cuisine
Buen Ser, Miami
The Hauntingly Beautiful Biltmore
TWT Travel Binder: Florida

Travels With Two

Flying in the face of current financial wisdom, this year we hope to journey to a beach on the far edge of the Earth to celebrate our 10th anniversary. But we’re worried about what’s happening in the water…                   We were recently in Miami and the Keys, and were surprised by repeated warnings of Portuguese Man o’ War jellyfish swarms in the Gulf of Mexico. A family we met in Miami said that this former phenomenon had become increasingly common in the past few years; they don’t let their kids swim on “swarm days.” When I got back home to LA, I started to do some research…and it turns out Florida’s not alone.Poisonous jellyfish swarms are increasing across the world. In the South of France, in Australia’s Great Barrier Reef, around the U.K., Alaska, Hawaii, Japan, the South Pacific island of Palau, and far more. Don’t believe me? Check out this super-scary jellyfish swarm report from the National Science Foundation.

More jellyfish means not only aqua-terror, but algae. Whole teeming clouds of it. The reason? Zooplankton eat algae, and jellyfish eat zooplankton. Lots more jellyfish means lots less zooplankton and lots more algae. Algae blooms clog coral reefs and sea grass beds, and toxic varieties poison fish and sea birds.

It’s enough to put us off a romantic beach vacation. And it gets me thinking about the sea turtle connection.

We’ve had two brushes with sea turtles in our travels so far: snorkeling off Kona on the Big Island of Hawaii, and in rehabilitation tanks at The Turtle Farm in Isla Mujeres, Mexico. The message both times was to take care, as these are precious creatures.  

The seven types of sea turtles inhabit almost every sea on Earth, grazing on sea grass beds and enabling them to become vital fish nurseries. These gentle reptiles are almost universally endangered by illegal hunting and poaching; their meat, skin, shells and eggs are highly prized. But in the last few years, marine rubbish, like stray fishing lines and floating plastic trash bags, has moved to the top of the sea turtle predator list.  

Fishing lines snag, injure, and kill thousands of sea turtles around the world every year — and they’re used as close to home as the Gulf of Mexico. Defenders of Wildlife are presently taking on this one piece of the puzzle with a petition to stop bottom longline fishing in the Gulf. Click here to sign the petition for yourself before March 1st.

Plastic bags, which generally blow into the ocean from landfills, are their own unique threat: when wet, they look an awful lot like jellyfish. Turns out, toxin-impervious sea turtles are one of poisonous jellyfishes’ few natural predators. Turtles nibble and swallow the deceptive bags, and, lacking a natural ability to throw up, are slowly strangled.

And here we thought that plastic bags just suck because they’re rarely recycled and require large amounts of oil to produce. 

So, the circle of life here has no uplifting theme song: Plastic bag-choked turtles are dying in direct proportion to the freakish overpopulation of jellyfish, rise in beach-going danger, and blooming of algae clouds that are killing reefs, fish, and birds.  

But before you feel powerless as not only a traveler but also a human being, remember this as just one more good argument for changing our national policy on plastic bags…and for reusable canvas shopping bags.

Because creatures and beaches are terrible things to waste.

 

Thank you to Nathalie George for her photos of sea turtle hatchlings from Tulum, Mexico.

 

 

 

Travels With Two

When you live in Los Angeles, like we do, jetting off to Miami for the winter seems a little…superfluous.

But, really?  It only seems that way if you’ve never been there.

We fell in love with vibrant, romantic Miami — and here’s why:

1. South Beach. When we first saw the translucent teal water, our jaws hit the sugary sand.  I turned to Adam and said: ”This kicks Santa Monica’s ass.” Roiling surf, soft December sun, and not a plastic surgery mistake in sight. The water’s even clean enough to swim in.

(Just mind the occasional man-o’-war jellyfish warnings.)

2. Dinner at Ola Restaurant.  Ever been to a restaurant you’d fly cross-country for?  Well, we found one. Ola, in Miami’s Sanctuary Hotel, stands for “Of Latin America, ” and is the creation of chef Douglas Rodriguez, whose fame is steadily making its way out west. Our warm Colombian waiter; the small, puffy, evil genius of pan de bono; an exquisite ceviche menu; ahi tuna “lollipops” on sugar cane paired with adobo shrimp: for all this and more, our meal made us weep with joy.

3. Mojitos at the Hotel Victor. If you can peel yourself off of South Beach, cross the street and kick back on the upstairs patio at this revamped Art Deco hotel. Cool off with light, made-from-scratch mojitos as you soak up the tourist scene on Ocean Drive and the Atlantic.  Don’t miss the disco-lit jellyfish tank in the lobby.

4. ArtCenter South Florida. This pop surrealist gallery and artist collective was our favorite part of tacky, touristy Lincoln Road.  About 40 gifted local artists create and sell their multi-media work here, so it’s an excellent place to check out Miami’s emerging art scene.  More lively than schlepping to the Wynwood Arts District, which despite rising in prominence in the wake of Art Basel Miami’s sixth year, still feels a little like a ghost town.

5. Cafe con leche from David’s Cafe II. We fell hard for this sweet, milky Cuban coffee delight…and hardest for it here.  Served by Cuban girls who speak English sparingly and don’t skimp on the espresso.  Get it to go and kick Starbucks in the ‘nads.  (1654 Meridian Avenue, just off Lincoln Road).

6. The scene at the Delano. As we approached this swanky Collins Avenue hotel, a Scandinavian male model with shoulder-length ice-blonde hair and shoes pointy enough to cut glass paused on the steps for effect, signaled to valet for his sportscar with a snap, and was gone in the night.  Are you kidding me?  Fantastic.

Designed by Phillippe Starck, it only gets more theatrical inside.  Lounge amongst bizarrely oversized furniture, groove to the lobby’s personal DJ, or take a private seat at a cocktail table…either by or in the candlelit pool.

7. Fairchild Tropical Botanic Garden.  When welcomed by septugenarians from the British Isles, we knew we’d come to a serious garden.  This elegant 83-acre garden in Coconut Grove is dedicated to tropical plant conservation, and is rife with palms, vines, cacti, exotic trees, iguanas, birds, and art by Botero, Chihuly and more.  We happily hopped off the crowded 40-minute train tour in favor of wandering on our own. We chased butterflies, held hands in a rainforest, and while sipping $3 fresh-squeezed juices, queried a staff botanist about the unique fruits of Florida.

8. Crandon Park Beach.  Lulled by the music of an ice cream truck, this is where you come to hang on the beach like a local rather than a tourist.  The water and sand here in Key Biscayne feel just like South Beach, but with fewer Europeans and New Yorkers…and more real breasts.  The water’s so clear, warm, and shallow, you can walk right out into it for 1/8th of a mile, up to your knees.

9. “Islands” of the Uber-Wealthy. Star Island, Palm Island, and Hibiscus Island in Biscayne Bay are accessible from bridges that branch off the main-drag MacArthur Causeway.  Created by the co-founder of Miami in 1922,  these luxury communities have non-functional “guard gates” designed to scare away looky-loos.  (That is to say, you and me.)  Blow past them with abandon and ogle the homes of the rich, famous and possibly nefarious.  On January 1st, Shaquille O’Neal listed his Star Island estate for $25 million, illustrating a wonderful way to stay out of touch with the economy.

10. Vizcaya.  In my post, Miami – A Mid-Week Wander, our friends Nathalie and Mike recommended seeing Villa Vizcaya in Coconut Grove, the Italian Renaissance-inspired home built for agricultural machine titan James Deering in 1910. We went to see it for ourselves and were captivated.

Once we got over the long line for the lone, cash-only ticket-taker and the slightly seedy damp of the place, our imaginations took hold. To keep the ocean air from further fading the interior, windows are screened and shuttered, and a glass ceiling covers the atrium…but oh, what it must have been to live here. We preened in the sun on a faux Venetian bridge, marveled at whole rooms of carved lacquer and inlaid marble, and canoodled in a fountain-side grotto.

If only poor Miss Havisham had had a maid and a gardener, she’d have aspired to Vizcaya.

*To see more of our photos from Miami, click here.

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See related posts
Buen Ser, Miami
Death by Cubano Cuisine
Miami: A Mid-Week Wander
Adventures in Layover Land: Miami
TWT Travel Binder: Florida

Travels With Two

Palacio de los Juegos in Miami

If somebody told us that we could actually die from eating too much Cuban food at once, we would look them straight in the eye and say:

“We’ve been to Miami.  We know.”Every guide book/article/TV show on Miami recommends venturing into Little Havana and seeking out a restaurant/institution called Versailles (3555 SW 8th Street).

So on the day after Christmas 2008, we went.  And had a wonderful time in a parallel universe.

A few things to know first:

1.  It’s pronounced Vur-SIGH-yes, in a Cuban interpretation of the famous French palace. The signing of the 1763 Treaty of Paris in the Palace of Versailles was a huge turning point for Cuba, when Spain was told to back off and let Cuba grow into its own.  Which, of course, Cuba promptly did.

2. English is only begrudgingly spoken here. Our unsmiling waitress, a brassy Latino bottle blonde with dark lipstick and talon-sharp nails, responded to my broken-Spanish queries with the same patience of those who beat the mentally retarded.  However, a gracious, friendly manager in a starch-stiff, forest-green blazer (that incidentally seemed to say, “1964 is calling and would like its blazer back”) made sure our meal arrived and deftly handled our bill when we finally chose to peel ourselves up from the table.

3. Nothing here comes without an implied warning from the American Heart Association. The fresh-baked bread is so white you could sled on it.  One of the most popular items is a medianoche, a sandwich of spicy, layered pork cooked in its own fat.  Fried onions, beans, tomatoes and plantains are the only vegetables.  Be strong.

4. Our simple, delicious breakfast of fried chicken croquettes, garlic rice, black beans, scrambled eggs, and bacon, served with baskets of buttered bread and drop-dead exquisite cafe con leche (Cuban espresso with condensed milk), was $10.50…for the both of us.

The last time we’d had a breakfast so cheap, we had to drink it with a straw.

While we stuffed ourselves silly, the vintage-60s dining room (replete with frilly, scroll-edged mirrors) filled up with Cuban Miami:  Sassy grandmothers in kitten heels, trophy wives just off the tennis court, white-haired lions with shirts unbuttoned to golden saints, and shiny-cheeked businessmen shaped like potatoes, speaking Spanglish between bites of medianoche.

But the real action was outside.

Versailles has an express bakery counter where you can stand around in the Miami sun sipping tiny cups of coffee and munching fruit-stuffed empanadas with old Cubano men in shirtsleeves and hats…and wait for news cameras to appear.  Anytime anything happens in Cuban politics, this is where the reaction interviews go down. But judging from the din we heard, debate rages out there with or without a spotlight.

After Versailles, cafe con leche formed a hold on our lives I can only compare to a 48-hour madness.  We stopped at bars, cafes, holes in the wall at mini-malls.  It always tasted like rich, sweet heaven, and we’d both swear it made us more witty and attractive.  I’d make it for us at home, but what if it turns out it only works in Miami?

We cut our caffeine onslaught with fresh-squeezed fruit juices and tostones (curly, fried plantain chips) from the Palacio de los Juegos (5721 W. Flagler Street, which is a lot farther along residential/industrial Flagler than you’d hope).  This indoor-outdoor Cuban market (pictured above) requires either rapid-fire Spanish or lots of pointing; when it’s finally your turn, 10 more people are waiting.  Enormously popular despite being squat and ugly, here you can eat garlic pork rinds right out of the fryer, order a whole cooked chicken, or, like me, sip from the world’s most gorgeous cup of watermelon juice.

Our last night in town, we were lucky enough to have dinner at Havana Harry’s in Coral Gables (4612 S. Le Jeune Rd., (305) 661-2622).  Twice the size of Versailles and decorated like an upscale, saltillo-tiled Mexican restaurant, the dining room was filled with multi-generational Cuban families.  We were greeted in Spanish and grateful that we’d taken the extra time to put on our last clean clothes of the trip.  It’s not fancy, exactly, just extremely respectable.  Jeans and t-shirts might feel a little wrong here.

Either way, we had come not for fashion but for the vaca frita. In short, this is an ungodly massive plate of tender, shredded beef, lovingly steeped in garlic and spices until, even when the dish is plated, the seasoning gives off its own heat.  Paired with soft, pan-fried plantains and the national dish of Cuba, Platillo Moros y Cristianos (spicy black beans and white rice), this is our idea of a huge meal.

But here, we were solid amateurs.  All around us, people were scarfing down starchy appetizers like empanadas and croquetas, having entrees as big or far larger than ours, then chasing it all with dairy-based desserts.  Beer and mojitos were free-flowing, but it was all we could do to finish our half-pitcher of sangria.  We regretted only that we hadn’t worn our comfy pants to dinner.

And to think, some folks in Miami eat like that every night.  The whole idea begs the question:

“Who the hell wants to live forever, anyway?”

See related posts
Buen Ser, Miami
Our Miami Top 10
Miami: A Mid-Week Wander
Adventures in Layover Land: Miami
TWT Travel Binder: Florida

Travels With Two

So, we made it to Miami in 2008 after all, just under the December wire.  We were surprised and delighted to discover that in doing so, we’d actually traveled to Central America and the U.S. all at the same time.

In December 2008, we’d settled on Florida as our tropical winter vacation because the places we’d have preferred to see — Panama, Cuba, Colombia and Puerto Rico — were all too complicated to navigate with only a few days on hand.  It was a joy to find that warm, breezy Miami is not only bright, crayon-colorful, and gorgeous, but so heavily immersed in Central American culture that in many parts of town, speaking fluent Spanish is all but a prerequisite.

But let me clarify:  In Miami, it’s best to know the slangy, rapid-fire Spanish that’s spoken in Central America. Since college, Adam’s been fluent in Spanish, but in the formal, Castilian dialect of central Spain; he often struggled to follow what Miami locals were saying.  For instance, where a Spaniard would carefully enunciate an evening’s greeting, “buena sera,” a Spanish-speaker in Miami would go with “buen ser” and be through a full sentence in the same amount of time.

This article from MSNBC states that almost 60% of city residents use Spanish as their primary language.  This story on CNN weighs both sides of the English-Spanish debate in Miami…and it would seem that for many local Latinos, English is found wanting.

We found this integral aspect of the city’s culture pretty fascinating, but as longtime residents of segregated Los Angeles, it wasn’t nearly as exciting to us as the sheer number of wealthy Latino people in Miami.

L.A.’s history is, like Miami’s, tightly intertwined with Central America — most specifically, with Mexico.  While L.A. also boasts fair-sized populations of other Central Americans, whole neighborhoods in the city are geared towards Mexican immigrants, replete with Spanish signage.  Mexican-Americans are present in every public aspect of local culture, from politics to the arts to the local news.  But in L.A., wealthy Latinos are rare; the average millionaire there is more likely to be Persian or running the sheer gamut of European whiteness.

What we found in Miami gives Whitey a run for his money.  Edging up on philanthropic Jews in self-exile from New York, African American sports stars, and old money WASPs, Latino Americans are increasingly Miami’s alpha dogs of wealth.

Everywhere we went we saw whole generations of affluent Cubano and Colombian families in and out of fancy cars, sparkling with jewels and designer clothes.  Well-heeled Latinos outnumber anyone else two-to-one at the über-tony Bal Harbour Shops, a mall of such lavish excess that Beverly Hills can only weep with envy in its diamond-studded wake.  Cuban, Colombian, Honduran, and Puerto Rican flags fly outside many of Miami’s finest mansions, and Latino surnames grace some of the city’s most lavish construction sites and office buildings.

While L.A.’s Latino cultures remain largely fragmented and increasingly polarized in terms of privilege, Miami’s largely powerful Latino population has created what amounts to the society of a whole other country – one that, albeit, doesn’t require a long flight or even a passport to visit.

*To see more of our photos from Miami, click here.

See related posts
Our Miami Top 10
Miami: A Mid-Week Wander
Death by Cubano Cuisine
Adventures in Layover Land: Miami
TWT Travel Binder: Florida

Travels With Two

Okay, so The Biltmore in Coral Gables, Florida isn’t really hauntingly beautiful.  But it is beautiful.  And haunted, as well.

So it’s got that going for it…as well as the biggest hotel swimming pool in America.

The tallest building in sleepy, tree-lined Coral Gables, this 1920s landmark hotel is said to have been modeled on Seville, Spain’s famous cathedral.  Having fallen in love with that Gothic treasure in May 2007, I’m not sure we’d entirely agree, but here they are side by side — judge for yourself.

What a stay at The Biltmore absolutely resembles is an old-fashioned resort vacation, where the hotel is the destination.

We drove from the Keys to The Biltmore on Christmas Day 2008, and as we pulled up the hotel’s sloping, lamp-lit drive to the front door, could hardly believe its glamour.  It could have been the contrast between our road-grimy bedraggled-ness and the doorman’s white gloves, but whatever — we were suitably wowed.

I’ll start with the really sexy part:  In winter, it’s more than half the price of a South Beach hotel without skimping on any of the fancy. While Miami hotels offer ocean glitz and streamlined modernity, the Biltmore offers sumptuous elegance…and free self-parking.

The Biltmore’s ornate lobby is a marvel.  The ceiling’s painted like a Ukranian Easter egg, and fabric-draped cupolas have portholes that reveal tiny, exotic finches perched inside.  A 30-foot Christmas tree twinkled as if to say, “Well, hi there.”

By the time Adam returned from parking the car, I’d been handed a cool towel, a glass of champagne, and had booked a glorious afternoon tea just steps away.  By sunset, we’d already sipped our Russian Caravan to a guitar serenade, strolled beneath exotic banyan trees at the edges of the impossibly emerald golf course, and kissed by a trickling fountain in a garden courtyard we had all to ourselves.  Our continuing fears about the economy aside, we were fully smitten.

But, ah — I’d mentioned haunting.

As our bellman carefully laid out our things in our simple 6th floor room, with its endless view of the Gables’ fluffy trees and red-tile roofs, he cheerfully apprised us of the Biltmore’s checkered past.  Al Capone and his cronies were frequent guests here in the ’20s, and were apparently responsible for an on-site mob hit or two; the murder victims have been restless ever since.  Panicked reports of ghost sightings on the 7th floor finally inspired the hotel to stop booking it, and the whole floor was turned into the spa. As the bellman jokingly put it, what’s an extra pair of hands here and there while you’re getting a massage?

We hung at the pool instead.  The Biltmore’s pool really is the largest of any hotel in the U.S. It’s L-shaped, shimmering turquoise, and framed by faux Greek statuary and arbors of bouganvillea…but it’s not heated. And even with 80-degree December days, by late afternoon only my crazy husband (who I call “my polar bear”) and aged English folk would attempt to actually swim.  The irony of such a massive expanse of water is that the real attractions here are the huge romantic patio/cabanas, the two-story waterfall over the bar, hilariously formal European crowd (even the children), and my favorite sport — jewelry watching.

Taking the tiny, wood-inlay and brass elevators was almost as fun.  While we’d wait for it up on our floor, we’d scope out all the old photos of Coral Gables when it was still a goofy boom-time land development dream; gotta love mustachioed men in white linen suits perched on the sticky shore of a mangrove swamp.  When the elevator would finally arrive, there’d always be an earnest young sunburned kid from Austria (or Germany, or Switzerland) in painfully clean clothes, lugging a massive, tricked-out golf bag towards the ground floor.  Each time we’d flatten ourselves to the elevator walls, we’d silently reflect that without golf in our lives, we were missing out on a whole different version of the Biltmore.

We contented ourselves instead with earth-toned outfits and fabulous food at Fontana.

Christmas dinner beside the palms and soaring fountain at the hotel’s outdoor Mediterranean restaurant was elegant, romantic and deeply perfect.   (I barely needed a sweater in the warm evening breeze, but hey, it looked really cute with the dress.)  We remarked in passing to our gracious Italian waiter that the complimentary mini-antipasto plate was a work of beauty, and like magic, another appeared in its place.  The menu was a holiday special, but no matter; we can say with confidence that anything here made of pasta or seafood will make you weep for your lost childhood, like the critic in Ratatouille.

I’ve saved the best for last:  Fontana’s legendary Sunday brunch ($75 per person).  Miami and Coral Gables locals flock here in hordes, so if you’re a guest, be sure to book this when you book your stay.  Learn from our first-seating mistake and book a sit-down time no earlier than 11:30 am; unless you nearly starve yourself, you will never make it through even half of the ludicrous quantity of food here. We’ve never seen anything like it, and we’ve been to Las Vegas and the Deep South.

There’s a four-protein carving station, an omelette bar, a groaning bread table, an entire antipasto section, cereals, waffles, cheeses for days, espresso drinks, enough sushi to feed the whole city, and just when you’re sure you’ll die, an entire room of dessert.  The latter has cookies, petit fours, cakes, pies, mousses, bars, and a chocolate fondue fountain.  If you’ve made the crippling error of ordering a mimosa and don’t remain vigilant in your refusals, you will see your glass refilled every 15 minutes of your meal.

But if you’re cool with spending your last day on Earth here together, then be sure to do one key thing — leave room for the blinis and caviar.

*For more of our photos from The Biltmore and Coral Gables, click here.

See related posts
Coral Gables: No, Seriously
Our Miami Top 10
Miami: A Mid-Week Wander
Death by Cubano Cuisine
Buen Ser, Miami
TWT Travel Binder: Florida

Travels With Two

For all you fans of Coral Gables, Florida who may be ruffled by my title, let me just say that we, too, are fans.

But you have to admit, when you think about the original city plan for CG, doesn’t it seem a bit…goofy?  

Here’s the deal:

In the Florida land boom/real estate bubble of the 1920s, dynamic local son George Merrick left a law career to take over his father’s 160-acre plantation.  With the late 1800s City Beautiful movement in mind, he envisioned his hometown as a quieter, more middle-class alternative to glitzy Miami. With blueprints in hand for one of the nation’s first fully-planned communities, he began to rustle up local money and excitement; the creation of Coral Gables and its hard-won gem, The University of Miami, began in earnest.

Here’s where the goofiness comes in.  While most of the original architecture was Mediterranean Revival, there were also more, shall we say, inventive features. There was a man-made “Tahitian” beach with a bandshell in the form of a huge coconut and grass be-skirted dancing girls from the suburbs.  Some areas were dedicated “villages” with imaginary versions of French Country, Dutch South African, English Tudor, and Chinese houses.  Canals criss-crossed parts of town, and you could take to them in gondolas.  Still standing are an endless golf course and the Venetian Pool, a crusty grotto of a swimming hole that used to be a rock quarry, but is now open to the (paying) public.

By 1929, Coral Gables, like many American businesses built on a foundation of romance and speculation, had started to seem like a naive idea.  Gotta say, being there for Christmas 2008, amidst a looming, history-repeating depression, felt a little poignant.

It’s still a lovely neighborhood, but now mostly for very wealthy people; we had a jaw-dropping time just driving around and ogling stately homes and the canopies of banyan trees that overhang the wide residential streets.  A great deal of dull revisions were made in the less charming 1960s and 1980s, and sadly, little of the original architecture remains.

We managed to see some, though, especially a whole block of colorful pagoda-style houses.  One cul-de-sac looked like an abandoned backlot for a silent film set in the French countryside.  We caught glimpses of 1920s stone bric-a-brac, gargoyles, ceramic tile, fountains, and stained glass.  Coral Gables is all about the, “Oooh, look at that!” factor.

To see how it was back in the day, check out the book Coral Gables: Images of America.

Or better yet, see dozens of photos at the most famous landmark in town, The Biltmore.  I can hardly wait to tell you about our stay at this hotel…

*To see more of our photos from Coral Gables, click here.

The Hauntingly Beautiful Biltmore
Our Miami Top 10
Death by Cubano Cuisine
Buen Ser, Miami
TWT Travel Binder: Florida

Travels With Two

Palm trees beckon you to South Beach

When I was but a wee girl of two, my family went on a legendary trip to Miami, Florida.  It didn’t turn out as we’d hoped — something about an argument, a coconut and a plate glass window comes to mind — and I sadly haven’t set the whole experience right by going back since.

But since our beloved friends Nathalie and Mike went mid-week in May and had a wonderful time, I’m finally ready to make the journey from L.A. to this other land of sunshine and gentle debauchery.

Nathalie is an extremely talented Los Angeles artist with a droll sense of humor who loves hotel spas, organic food and a good cocktail.  Born Canadian, she finds traveling in America endlessly entertaining; she has what she calls a heightened fromage meter.  Mike, her husband, is that rare bird, the hilarious producer, and often has to travel for work on short notice to some very cool locations…like, say, Miami.

Whenever possible, Nathalie will travel with Mike on these business trips; while he’s on a set somewhere, she’ll do some exploring on her own, and then they’ll have their evenings together.  They found Miami a great city for couples.

Because Nathalie had never been to Miami before, she rented a car with a GPS — and felt it was a great move.  Despite some really slow drivers, driving was a joy, especially when crossing the MacArthur Causeway towards Miami Beach; she was so distracted by the bluer-than-blue ocean and amazing mansions on the shore, she almost drove the car into the water.   Parking is less potentially dangerous, with plenty of super cheap parking structures everywhere.

Art Deco on Ocean Drive

A dedicated fan of design, her first big tourist adventure was the Miami Design Preservation League Audio Tour of the Art Deco district in South Beach at the Art Deco Welcome Center. You’re given a map and an iPod (bring your own headphones or risk looking like a moron with the big museum-style ones they give you), and audio-guided through the architecture of Depression-era Miami.  The tour costs $15 per person, but she suggests saving money and boosting the romance by sharing an iPod and snuggling up close as you zigzag through the roughly 8 x 3-block itinerary along Ocean, Collins, and Washington.

Along the tour, you should feel free to stop at any of the famous bars on Ocean for a mojito and some much needed shade…and to laugh long and hard when you get the bill.

Walkway at 15th & Ocean Drive

She says that in general, South Beach, or as it’s known to locals, Sobe, was a lot of fun, although a massive tourist trap where everything seems incredibly expensive.  The beach is perfect, with sparkling, calm, blue water, and there’s a lot of good shopping on Collins.  You’ll also find a mix of cheesy and high-end, excellent restaurants, clubs and trendy hotel bars that host regular parties.

If a hotel pool party is up your alley and you’re in town longer than a standard weekend, try the palm frond-y, waterfall scene at The Raleigh on Collins, one of the most romantic spots in Miami; Sunday night’s parties are the most elegant.  Tuesdays are best at Hotel Astor on Washington, and Thursdays the scene travels to the pool at Hotel Victor for a live DJ and dancing.  You could hardly do better, though, than to visit (or stay at) La Oprah’s favorite hotel in Miami, the glamorous Delano, any night of the week.

Every single guide and article on Miami suggests Joe’s Stone Crab, so while in Sobe, Mike and Nathalie felt they had to try it.   There are no reservations for this incredibly popular place — you just go in, put your name on the list, then go get a drink at one of the many bars close by and come back an hour later.  Hopefully you’re liquored up enough to not mind so much when you spend an arm and a leg and receive awful service.  Thankfully, at least, they have very good Dungeness crab and key lime pie.

Villa Vizcaya from the jetty

Villa Vizcaya is a gorgeous turn of the century villa built by one of Miami’s founding fathers, James Deering, between 1914 and 1916.  Here you’ll find breathtaking views of the ocean, beautiful fairy tale gardens with statuary, and plenty of places to sit, contemplate and whisper to each other.  Take a camera and have fun embarrassing yourselves by taking glamour shots of each other — this place is the perfect backdrop.   Be sure to check out the cute little coffee shop by the garden entrance.

Stairway at Vizcaya

Outside, the Villa has a gazebo/teahouse right on the water and an interesting “stone barge,” reminiscent of those often seen in Venice.  The inside of the villa is beautiful and filled to the brim with antiques much older than the house.  The stale smell of these old things permeates the swamp hot air, heightening the creepy sense of being in a vaguely haunted house.

Coconut Grove, a small but famous neighborhood  on Biscayne Bay is known to locals as the real Miami, though Nathalie found it a little odd and pretty dead on weekdays.  It used to be pretty hippie and artsy, then died, underwent a revival and is now way more commercial.   You can easily walk the whole thing in a morning or afternoon.

In the Grove you can also visit The Barnacle Historic State Park for a visit to what Miami used to feel like in its 1920s heyday; this park features the former home of Miami founding father Commodore Ralph Munroe, who lent his title to Coconut Grove’s Commodore Plaza.  For a more jungly experience, you can learn all about the exotic fruits of the world at The Kampong, a lush tropical garden full of flowering trees and…fruit.

Coconut Grove’s first black settlement (in the 1880s) was established by Bahamian craftsmen and sailors and their families; there’s a whole slew of historic mansions on Charles Avenue that aren’t too well preserved, but interesting to see from the car.  She says she was going to walk through alone and then stopped; there wasn’t a soul on the street, so it felt strange.  Hopefully with your partner, you’d feel more secure.

She advises to (for the love of God) avoid the aberration known as CocoWalk located at Virginia and Grand Avenue.  This outdoor mall looks like it’s dying a slow death.  It sports a Cheesecake Factory, a Fat Tuesday, and a selection of America’s most oft-repeated stores.  The adjoining Mayfair Gardens is just as dead and depressed.  Of course, if you need to buy stuff you forgot at home or would like to wash your platter of nachos or cheesecake down with a Pina Colada rum slushie, here you can go to town.

Nathalie suggests sticking to the more unique shops, galleries and restaurants in the area, roughly where McFarlane, Grand Avenue and Main Highway meet. In that triangle, Commodore Plaza and Fuller Street are of note.  Green Street Cafe, at the corner of Commodore Plaza and Main Highway, is a good spot for casual dining or drinks day or night (especially the salads, burgers, eggs, and pancakes); sit outside under the awning and shade trees.

View of the bay from the Sonesta Hotel

Nathalie and Mike stayed in Coconut Grove, at the Sonesta Hotel at McFarlane and South Bayshore Drive.  This was the view from their room.

Here you’ll find a new outpost of the world famous Nikki Beach, a nice outdoor-terrace restaurant until 11pm and then a crazy swingin’ club ’til the wee hours.  A South Beach- type party in the quiet community of Coconut Grove seems a little weird, but it’s very popular and gets packed and loud.

Nathalie and Mike were less than thrilled with the truly awesome level of noise.  They thought the bay views and the outdoor saltwater pool on the 8th floor were amazing, but warn that unless you like lying awake all night listening to someone’s else’s party, you should ask for a room above the 14th floor.

If you’re seeking a quieter time and a perfect afternoon break, try the unassuming Panorama restaurant on the 8th floor of The Sonesta.  Enjoy fusion South American tapas on the outdoor patio, where the view is simply spectacular.

In hindsight, both of them would have preferred the potentially more relaxing Ritz Carlton down the street. Such a residential neighborhood struck them as a strange location for a high-end hotel, but it’s much quieter, within walking distance to the attractions mentioned above…and who are we to scoff at soaring thread count and posh surroundings while lounging near the beach?

Travels With Two