It's exasperating when we travel somewhere and upon hearing where we live somebody says something like, "New York City? You can keep it!" By digging we discover that NYC detractors are more often then not people whose sojourn in the city was limited to midtown/Times Square. We have yet to meet any anti-New Yorkers on this trip, but I am guilty of similar city-prejudice, of judging a town (or a key?) on one garish part of it.
In other words, we woke up this morning and in the more comfortable light of the day discovered that Key West has a lot more charm than I allowed after my first impression.
We visited the Ernest Hemingway Home and all loved it for various reasons. The Sister, The Dad, and I liked the landscape, the architecture, the tiling, the decorating. I'm convinced that if I had that writing studio (sunshine, taxidermy, bookshelves, and a beautiful chandelier -- my definition of paradise) my drivel would turn pulitzer prize winning. The Boy liked the war artifacts, the penny in the cement by the pool (Hemingway came back from ten months in Spain to a beautiful pool that his second wife had had put in -- the story goes that he held up a penny and told her something to the effect that she might as well take his actual last penny. She had it put into the cement by the pool, and later joked that out of all his wives only she had the proof that she took his last cent), the cat stature that he traded Picasso for when they lived in Paris at the same time -- he traded him a box of hand grenades for it, the urinal-turned-fountain, and the cat cemetery. The Girl of course loved the 45 cats wandering about. We had a great tour-guide and bless his heart when he saw The Girl's keen interest he motioned her over and let her give some treats to one of the cats. He also said that we were welcome to pet the cats. And so we did -- we wandered about and she ran happy fingers along silky heads and down silky backs. She did not discriminate -- they were loved whether they had six-toes or five (the Hemmingway House is famous for the six-toed cats that are reported to be descendants from his polydactyl cat, Snowball).
After seeing the cat cemetery, we went to the Key West Cemetery. I feel like you can get a good feel on a place by its cemetery(ies). On the sign it mentions that the cemetery reflects the incredible diversity of Key West. I would agree. As with all cemeteries the map highlights the quirky and the heroic, my personal favorite was Sophronia Bradley's stone because of the information to be gleaned from it. Her husband was killed by poachers -- he was a game warden who was trying to protect birds from the slaughter that was going on because of the exotic women's hats that were being sold to the elite and fashionable. It is said that his death was a huge catalyst in the Audubon movement. Good can come from bad.
We walked around the Truman Annex, which is interesting both for its cute neighborhoodness and American/naval history. Do you ever travel somewhere that you know you'll never live and think: if I lived here, this is the neighborhood I would settle in? I often think of my alternative lives.
At noon we went to St. Paul's and listened to an organ concert for 30 minutes.
Key Lime Pie at lunch. That's the third time we've shared a slice -- we are having a taste test. The prevention of scurvy is part of our health curriculum.
While I concede that Key West has some lovely pockets, a lot of beautiful architecture, a diverse and interesting history, is naturally beautiful, and interesting from a geographical perspective, I'm not convinced that I ever need to go back. The Boy isn't so ready to write it off: chickens wander about free and are as prevalent as stray cats in a fishing village. At lunch he made a Key West rooster out of his wiki sticks. The girl made a model of the basset hound puppy we saw on the sidewalk. The puppy's mother (a DOG) was wearing a small red cowboy hat and some of the beeds that their owner was selling from his stand.
We added 200 miles of driving on to our trip to see Key West. If we had left early without further exploration I would have considered it a waste, but this morning I caught a whiff of what pulled Hemingway, and I'm grateful that I did. Further, I saw a map of the keys and it actually thrilled me to see how far out in the ocean Key West is -- it feels like an accomplishment simply for having gone. The Sister, who sat in the back with the kids, might not agree that it was worth the extra 200 miles -- she just shared with me that The Boy sits back there and toots and then subtly pulls down his snorkeling mask while she and The Girl are left to suffer the fallout.
Some things that we picked up about the key: the Seven MIle Bridge and the other causeways take you over/past the most beautiful blue and green and aqua water. We learned that the Key Deer walked over during an ice age and now range 60 miles from Duck Key to Key West, but have been mostly isolated on Big Pine Key because their numbers are low from aggressive hunting; they are in fact, on the endangered species list. I saw a spotted fawn against the protective fencing, but sadly nobody else (i.e. The Girl) did.
Parallel to the causeways and bridges you can see the remains of the bridge-system that carried trains. In 1905 the Key West extension of the Florida East Coast Railway was begun -- 128 miles beyond the end of the Florida. It was in use from 1912 to 1935 carrying freight and passengers. Henry Flagler was an interested builder/developer in hotels/railroads and he backed it, in part because of the time he and his ailing first wife spent in Key West. It sounds like it was ill-fated from the beginning as first there was a hurricane a year into construction that about wiped it out, plus labor issues and insect issues. In 1909 and 1910 additional hurricanes damaged it. It was finally finished in 1912, and dubbed the 8th Wonder of the World. You could take a sleeper from NYC to Key West (I would have vastly prefered that). In 1935 a Labor Day hurricane washed away 40 miles of the middle section. The rescue train was also destroyed. With Flagler gone nobody was willing to pay for the repair of a line that never covered the cost of its construction.
Long Key State Park. We stopped for some canoeing in a lagoon. We swerving and slid between mangrove clusters (and were crazy grateful that we didn't see the "Extreme Caution Venomous Snakes" sign until we were out of our boats and back in the car). We were the only canoes out, whether that was because it's a school day in the middle of the winter, or because it was the hour right before closing I don't know, but it was cool. The water was properly silver with the setting sun, and shallow enough to see interesting things on the bottom (and not be too worried about tipping over when we all leaned at the same time to check something out on the bottom).
At Mile 78 Is Robbies Marina. The Dad had read about this cool opportunity to feed some prehistoric fish called tarpon. The kids were excited. We pulled up about 20 minutes before closing and we paid for the very nice lady to give each kid a bucket... of fish. Red flag #1 -- I was thinking pellets. Red flag #2 -- the dead fish in the bucket were about the size of the fish that I thought they would be feeding. Red flag #3 -- she told us to be sure to shoo away the pelicans because they get aggressive and bite. Red flag #4 -- she motioned us to the end of the dock (I had envisioned some sort of nice touch tank). The experience was shocking. I found this video on YouTube for a good reference. My concern was actually less about the fish coming up and about swallowing my kids' arms, and more about my kids leaning way over into the edge of the ocean and then having the beans-and-cheese scared out of them and tumbling down into a feeding frenzy. That having been said, I was like: let's get 'er done. The Boy went for it. He finished off his bucket in quick order and saw that The Girl was still sitting there with her bucket full and her face uneasy. He put his hand on her back (to which I screamed: GET THAT DEAD FISH HAND OFF HER BACK), and tried to explain to her how to do it. After a few aborted attempts I was like, for-crying-out-loud and held her hand firmly where it needed to be. The BIGGEST tarpon in the world jumped up right in my face and closed his enormous mouth around the entire fish and my baby's fingers. She was like: I have the slobber from the inside of his mouth all over my hand. And we were done.
We got to Key Largo and had a late dinner -- finishing it off with Key Lime Pie number four. I might go through withdraws when we leave the keys.
