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Elizabeth Weintraub
Leaving Key West and Returning to Reality
The prettiest dreads in Key West
When you’re doing lunch at a Thai restaurant in the pouring rain in Key West and today is your last day of vacation, there is only one logical thing left to do. It’s not like we could hop on the Conch Train either because it wasn’t running. The shops on Duval Street are not calling my name; in fact, I bought very few trinkets in Key West because I couldn’t find anything substantially nice to buy. It was either Emeralds or a Hemingway House t-shirt, so I picked the shirt. I love Emeralds, I simply have no place to wear them.
Unlike pearls. Because pearls look great with just about any kind of outfit, except maybe beach-going apparel. It’s not like I need any more pearls. After our French Polynesia Vacation last year, I am totally pearled-out.
Since we weren’t about to go shopping yesterday, we did the next best thing. A visit to the spa for a couple’s massage. Nothing like working out all of the kinks and pains that crept up during our walkabouts. Of course, I already had booked a Swedish massage the day we arrived in Key West, but that was 6 days ago and it was time for another. My husband gave no preference to which masseuse worked on him or the product. He’s more along the lines of do whatever. Although he did threaten to change his shirt when he saw I pulled on my matching Dry Tortugas shirt.
Why don’t husbands like to be seen in public wearing matchy-matchy outfits with their spouse? I do not know the answer to that.
I do know that once I hit the turf back in Sacramento, it’s going to be a real estate whirlwind. There will be no time to miss Key West and South Florida. It will probably stay that way through May. It’s as though homeowners suddenly woke up from the holiday activities and instantly said to themselves, “Oh, my gosh, I have sell my house, and I have to do it NOW.” It doesn’t astonish me. I understand the sentiment. It’s been this way every year for decades. The second week in January, sellers are ready to list.
This Sacramento real estate agent will be ready to go. Dreamy, exotic vacations are my way to unwind and refresh, because I can work as hard as a dog all year long if I know that my winter vacation is on the horizon.
A Dry Tortugas Adventure from Key West
Fort Jefferson and lighthouse
I wondered if this could possibly get any worse. Have I ever had a more terrible experience in my life or is this the worst thing that has ever happened to me? The guy at the ticket counter said: Dress like you’re going to the beach! Bring suntan lotion, towels and a swimsuit. The Dutch woman adorned in pearls, rocking an ivory silk blouse, paired with a matching skirt, had hung a light sweater over her shoulders looping the empty arms in front, looking so preppie-like — I guess she had a different idea of dressing for a day at the beach. She, who later begged the purser, please, 2 candy bars, deux, chips and how much is that rum!! She had no idea what she was in for either.
Roof top view from Fort Jefferson
The clerk at Fort Jefferson suggested I buy a baseball hat. For those bad hair days, she offered. What? Have you looked at my hair? I briefly for about 10 days considered growing dreadlocks. It would make life easier if I never had to mess around styling my hair. When I am on vacation, I don’t even comb it after washing it. Do you think I care about my hair? I asked. I twist it, stick a clip in it, and call it a day.
Which came in handy, an hour earlier, keeping my hair out of my face as I clutched the handle of a seat one one down from me, holding a barf bag in the other. I would have sat in the seat with the arm, but that seat was too wet, pelted by the continual rain. Swells in the Atlantic reached 6 to 8 feet. The 100-foot passenger boat Yankee Freedom III plunged forward, pounding the waves. It’s not dangerous to go out in weather like this, it’s just rough seas. I’m not a woman who gets seasick. I used to own a Bayliner.
Waves pouring over Moat at Fort Jefferson, Florida Keys
It’s not like they didn’t warn us in person at 6:30 A.M. when nobody was awake, as we stood in line to retrieve our boarding passes for the boat. The Yankee Freedom III staff said it would be cold, windy and chilly, which doesn’t mean much to a girl when there is no time to go home to her hotel and change clothes. I was dressed for the beach, not a mid-winter rainstorm at sea. Yankee Freedom III had our cell phones numbers, and they could have called to warn us, but why, when they could do it at the ticket window when our only chance was either a) take the trip of a lifetime NOW because we aren’t coming back or b) cancel all together? They also offered us another option that would have involved c) a voucher good for travel when we would not be there, so NOT really an option.
Fort Jefferson from the sea
I didn’t wear makeup and pearls for the beach like the Dutch woman. No, I wore a two-piece tankini because I’m an old person, over which I threw a beaded coverup from Bermuda and, just for good measure, threw on a Dolphin t-shirt from the Dolphin Research Center in Marathon. It was not not nearly warm enough.
Clutching the handle of the seat chair required great dexterity. I could not move from my unnatural position. Frozen there in time.
A moat surrounds Fort Jefferson
My husband was somewhere inside by himself. It’s every man for herself, I see. I was outside, trying to use the ocean air to revive my queasy stomach. An Asian couple slumped in seats across from me. She kept her eyes closed, thinking about how she could thrust a knife into her husband’s ribs, but even those thoughts would not take them off the boat. I, on the other hand, held a dandy bag in my hands, which I did not need because a) I took 2 dramamine non-drowsy pills an hour before boarding and b) I wore my dandy sea wrist bands, which I googled for position thereof shortly before boarding.
View of Bush Key from Fort Jefferson
As I sat in my frozen state, staring at the crystal blue water bursting into waves in all directions around me, I continued to wonder if this cannot get any worse. How much worse could this possibly get? It’s not so bad when things are placed into perspective. Yes, this is miserable; I have now regurgitated every bit of contents in my stomach at least 3 times; I am shivering, and I must sit here until the boat comes to a stop in 60 minutes at Dry Tortugas. But this is the worst that it will get, and I deal with it; I will survive. Oops. Uh-oh, what is this new development?
Grumblings in my gut. My innards were upset all of a sudden. I had not been expecting this. Down deep in my churning netheregions, I recognized the signs. I needed to find a bathroom. The bathrooms were located on the lower level. I was on the upper level. To relieve this gut pain, I would somehow need to make my way down the stairs to the bathrooms and planned to hold on to the railing for dear life. Like little pins, rain pelted my hands. The handrail was like holding an ice cube, gingerly I started to make my way one step at a time.
Yankee Freedom from Fort Jefferson
Suddenly, a crew member from the Yankee Freedom III appeared out of nowhere, like an angel from heaven to help me navigate the stairs. Yes, I must be dead. Or this is just a dream. I reached the main-floor galley, gathered every bit of strength I could muster and literally threw myself around the door way toward the bathroom doors. Ordinarily, at this point, I would ponder which bathroom to choose. Do I want door number one? Door number two? Or door number three? Studies say most people use the first door, so generally that room doesn’t have any toilet paper. There was no time to study and choose. I opened the first door, flung my body into the air dryer, which immediately went off, and inched my way to the toilet, tearing at the clinging fabrics attached to my body.
Roof top view from Fort Jefferson
Swimsuit top. Up. Swimsuit topper, up. T-Shirt from Save the Dophins at Marathon, up. Short black bottoms down. The swimsuit portions were made from spandex, which tends to roll into a tiny ball when you’re not paying attention. I don’t care. Toilet seat down. NOW. Oh, lookee here, a wastepaper basket under the sink perfect for multi-tasking. I grabbed it closer and heaved. Gag. Not much left in my stomach.
I would be remiss if I didn’t warn future navigators to Dry Tortugas, or to any place by sea for that matter, that the bathroom on a boat is the worst place to be. It’s confined, so the smaller space tends to intensify any queasiness. I also leave you with this ancient Hindu blessing: May you never find yourself in a squatting position to multi-task at sea.
Photos: Elizabeth Weintraub and Adam Weintraub
Preparing for a Trip to the Dry Tortugas from Key West
Elizabeth Weintraub goofing off at Key West Harbor
Scratching no-see-um bites is pretty much fruitless because they take much longer to go away when you do that, yet I continue to scratch. We bought plenty of bug spray and “after bite” if the bug spray didn’t work. Doesn’t stop insects from munching on my yummy skin. I’ve tried pulverizing the bites in my jetted tub. (Note to self, don’t use body wash in a jetted tub because the bubbles will crawl out to the balcony.) But bugs aren’t the big problem in Key West, really, it’s more like scorpions, so that’s why they let the chickens and roosters run loose. The chickens help to control the scorpion population. I wish I didn’t know that fact.
Conch house, Caroline Street, Key West
We wandered down Caroline Street yesterday morning to admire the Conch homes. These stunning structures are a mixture of Plantation Colonial, Victorian and New Orleans style homes, all rolled into one delightful piece of architecture. It’s pleasing to the eye. I adore the ornamental detail and railed-in porches, both on the first floor as well as the second. Many were originally built in the 1800s. Some listings say the homes are CSB, and I’m not sure what it means. Cement structure basement? Chicken side of bacon?
Later I checked prices on a few, because being a Sacramento real estate agent I can’t help myself, and the renovated larger homes start at about $1.5 million. You can add another million or two or four to that sales price if you want to buy a conch home on the Gulf of Mexico or the Atlantic Ocean.
Key West Harbor Walk
The reason we ended up on Caroline Street is because #1) we meant to tour that street and #2) it runs parallel to the Old Town Harborwalk of Key West. Since we’ve got reservations for the boat to Dry Tortugas National Park this morning, we thought it might be a good idea to track down exactly where we boarded. Good thing we did so because it’s hard to find, and nobody seems to know exactly where it is or, if they do know, they were not telling us. The boarding spot is from the Ferry Terminal, second floor check-in, way at the end of the marina. We need to be onboard at 7:15 A.M. for the two-hour journey, 70 miles off the coast of Key West and maybe 110 miles from Cuba. We will tour Fort Jefferson, built during the Civil War, and probably go snorkeling, searching for turtles, and colorful saltwater fish, maybe a bit of birding.
Sailing vessel anchored in Harbor Walk, Key West
I will write more tomorrow about our trip to Dry Tortugas, providing we don’t drown. The winds are kicking up something awful, and the waves are probably cresting at 2- to 3-feet. I won’t think about that as we make our way in the early morning hours to the harbor.
Perhaps, instead, I shall ponder how yesterday had been a fairly inactive day, as far as crawling down Duval Street goes. I plan to start my exercise program and diet next week. Calories burned walking to the Harbor Marina: 225. Calories consumed (not counting the Margarita nor the Hemingway Daiquiri): 3,750. Number of tattoos received: zero. Number of cigars smoked: zero.
Key West Butterflies, Flamingos and Southernmost Spot
Butterfly at Key West Butterfly and Nature Conservatory
A perfect childhood described to me by Joanna, a woman I once hired decades ago as my intern, had been filled with memories of sitting cross-legged on the soft grass in her yard, surrounded by fluttering butterflies kissing her face, and she was so happy, at peace, filled with joy. She grinned wide while sharing this story. Some kids live fairy tale lives, unlike my awful upbringing. I blurted out I hate you and she laughed.
It’s not too late to get that fluttering surrounded-by-butterflies experience in Key West, though. We walked from the north end of Key West, fighting crazy cruise-ship tourist traffic along Duval, all the way to the south end to visit the Key West Butterfly and Nature Conservatory. The day was hot, humid, 81 degrees, and we met an occasional downpour along the way, which meant we were forced to stop for ice cream. Once inside the the conservatory where the butterflies live, we noticed the temperature went up a few notches, but we didn’t care.
Flamingo at Key West Butterfly and Nature Conservatory
Here, hundreds of butterflies, prancing, pruning, warming their scaled wings in the mist of lush tropical vegetation; a winding walkway looping back and forth, waterfalls, dozens of birds and small chicken-like babies scattering and pecking along the ground; it was an exotic paradise. If you stood very still, butterflies landed on your head and shoulders. In the center of all of this is a pond, and oh, my gosh, there lives two strutting flamingos. Crap, we searched all through the Everglades National Park, from numerous entrances, including Flamingo Visitor Center and we found no flamingos. In fact, we were told there are no flamingos in Everglades National Park, contrary to what we had previously been led to believe.
Black and white butterfly searching for nectar
Yet, here they were. Granted, this is not the wild, but it is a place to see flamingos up close and personal. These birds seem to spend most of their time with their beaks in the water, digging up the ground beneath, searching for food. Not much different than any other kind of bird’s continual search for food.
The south end of Key West was much windier yesterday than the other end. We walked out to South Beach and onto the pier, weeding our way through the sea of drinking-rum-in-coconut tourists, many of whom were Asian. Bags of litter, white foam, seaweed and other sea vegetation swirled in the water below us but that did not stop swimmers from swimming. The water was a milky color and did not appear inviting to me.
Tourists at the South Beach pier in Key West
I slumped to the cement and leaned up against a pole to shoot photos with my cellphone. My husband was busy taking a picture when one of the foreign tourists bent over to motion him to move out of the way so she could take the picture she wanted to take. She then shoved her foot under my leg and tried to lean over my head to shoot a photo. I straightened up. She sighed. It was an unmistakable sigh of frustration. She was too polite and perhaps did not know enough English to say “excuse me, get the hell outta my way,” but that’s what she was thinking, so I did not budge.
A short skip and a jump from that beach is what is billed as the southernmost point in the continental United States. That’s not really true because the military base at Key West is further south. It’s the southernmost point that the public can reach. The State of Florida has to define the spot as continental because this Key West place is also not the southernmost spot in the United States. The true southernmost spot in America is located on the Big Island of Hawaii.
A Catalude at the Hemingway House in Key West
Polydactyl Rudolph Valentino at Hemingway House on Elizabeth Weintraub’s lap
Read carefully: tops, bottoms and shoes required for entrance. You don’t see a sign like that every day posted at a business, much less at a museum but hey, this is Key West. After spring break last year, the Hemingway House staff found it necessary to post such a notice at its ticketing desk. This house is such an attraction in Key West that tourists lined up down the street to get inside. Most of them were probably there solely to pet the 6-toed cats and couldn’t give a hoot about Hemingway or recall anything he wrote, if they even read his novels in the first place.
Hemingway House in Key West
They hold weddings at the Hemingway House. It doesn’t seem like a romantic way to start a future together, getting married at the home of a philanderer, much less a guy who had 4 wives and thought nothing of shooting enormous animals through the eyes and then mounting them on his wall, but what the heck. I guess we all romanticize history in our own ways.
Much of the home remains in its original condition, high ceilings, crown molding, hardwood and tiled floors. The first floor is laid out in kind of an odd manner in a circle, with its tiny kitchen and smallish bath at the back of the home. Each room contains some item pertaining to Hemingway such as artifacts, framed photographs, personal letters, war medals and books. The grand staircase leading to the second floor is surprisingly narrow, maybe 24-inches-wide at best. There is another building out back, and up those stairs to a large room is where the magic happened: Hemingway’s writing. A cat now nestles in his inbox. Many descendants of his cats remain on the property.
Black cats at Hemingway House
What I can humbly admit was the highlight of my visit and quite possibly one of the nicest things that has ever happened to me is when Rudolph Valentino, one of the polydactyl cats, jumped without an invitation into my lap. Many of the other cats in the household — about 45 are in residence — were ornery and grumpy, as you would be if somebody kept poking you and shoving a camera into your face 8 hours a day.
Rudoplph sat in my lap quietly, purring, inviting me to pet him, so I did what he wanted. Then, he stood up on my lap and began kneading my knees, extending and contracting his giant claws, which resulted in shredding my t-shirt. Still, I sat there and let him do it. This is what cats do to you.
Other tourists came by. I warned one little Asian girl who reached out to pet Rudolph that he bites. Another tourist stooped down to take my picture with her cellphone, yeah, right, my eyes flashed and I held out my hand to demand: Five bucks, please. Rudolph insisted I return both hands to petting him as one hand was no longer sufficient.
If you are wondering if the penny is indeed embedded by a post near the 65-foot pool, it is indeed.
Photos: Elizabeth Weintraub and Adam Weintraub
