It's time again for my day tour of Miami, since a few things have changed since 1999 and those that didn't you've probably forgotten.
We still start out with a little Frank — Come Fly With Me — because on Saturday morning you can fly (at a legal 65 mph, of course) down I-95. We get off at Southwest Seventh Street and wind back toward José Martí Park, stopping for a moment to pay our respects at the bust of the great Cuban poet and freedom fighter who wrote, among other things, that "palm trees are girlfriends who wait."
From here a little tour of the Miami River is in order, past the Haitian boats loading up. (Now would be a good time for that Mano Charlemagne CD).
I used to drive reverently past the Orange Bowl, as I liked showing Northerners the palm grove they had seen on TV during historic field goals. Now I hope that some day I can point out the new Marlins stadium.
We head west, through Little Havana, asking directions to "la casa de Elián" somewhere around 23rd Avenue. Last summer, giving a friend the tour, we ran into a caretaker who invited us inside to see the bed still filled with stuffed animals sent by children from around the world. Every other time I've been there, the house has been locked, though it's unmistakable with its makeshift shrine of flags (American and Cuban), cross and homage to Elián's mother.
We make our way back to Calle Ocho, getting out to watch the players in Dominoes Park and examine the mural of the Summit of the Americas. Nearby is a tasteful souvenir shop of Cuban memorabilia (I get no commission), the famous Tower Theater, and, a short walk east, the monument to the Bay of Pigs invasion. On the way back to the car, we often stop at the fruit stand for a cold coconut.
Heading east, we make a quick right turn before the I-95 overpass and then a left and another quick right, which lands us on Coral Way, which really should be called Banyan Way for the majestic trees that lead you through dappled light into Coral Gables.
One block back from Miracle Mile, on Aragon Avenue, sits Books & Books, a bit of bohemia in the subtropics (some Saturday nights, classic French films are shown in the courtyard).
On the way to the Biltmore Hotel I usually put on some Caetano Veloso. (I once went to hear the Brazilian singer speak at Books & Books, and though he never showed up I still had a delightful evening; it's that kind of place.) We check out what was once the largest hotel swimming pool in the country, and the cloister-like lobby, and then it's back in the car, past the dreamy Congregational Church and up to the Venetian Pool, possibly the world's most beautiful public swimming pool.
Folks are getting hungry, so I throw them a curve: Tropical Chinese on Bird Road. Nobody expects dim sum in Miami, and this one's wonderful. Also, the carts come around as soon as you sit down. Tonight you can go to Versailles, or Garcia's on the river. Or how about Ethiopian at Sheba in the Design District?
Heading north, we do a quick swing through Coconut Grove, I point out Vizcaya for future reference, we skirt downtown and all the empty new condos (dwarfing the elegant Freedom Tower), and then — around 5 — we head across the MacArthur Causeway just as the cruise ships are heading out.
In South Beach, de rigueur is a crawl up Ocean Drive, a stroll down Espanola Way, a look inside the Delano, a peek inside Puerto Sagua (to see the Scull Sisters' paintings), a quick dash into the Wolfsonian gift shop (the museum demands a longer visit), people-watching on Lincoln Road, and then a cocktail at The Raleigh, one block north and several decades back from the Delano. In fact, you sometimes hear Frank singing in the bar.
Thomas Swick can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org.