Bienvenido a Miami

Preface: Miami was ridiculously cold last week! But, I know that if I write a post about that, considering the Northern locale of most (all four!) of my readers, I would lose probably three of them, my mom included (sorry Mom!). So I won't.

But, if I did, I'd write about how I wasn't so sure about Miami at first. Think of me, then think of the opposite place you'd expect me to be -- it would be Miami. Though I am known to rock the pastel shirt from time to time and I do like Puma and wear Ray Ban sunglasses, Miami -- and especially South Beach -- can be gaudy to the extreme. The machismo of Latin America fused with the delicate European aesthete. A little too much for this scrubby Midwesterner (though I did wear a pink shirt! which came with the requisite amount of needling from the rest of the group...). But it grew on me.

As any Dexter fan worth his or her salt knows, South Beach (SoBe for those with a certain proclivity towards abbrevs) fully embraces Art Deco in their buildings. That ballsy period when almost any building became a monolith to design by industry. But not industry in the way that so many frumpy libraries and public schools look, but more industry in the sense that it was like architects were trying to impress through simple lines and dots, in terra cotta or metal. And the hotel-front signs. Oh, the signs!

The interesting buildings are not the only redeeming quality Miami has going for it. If I were to write a post, I'd be a fool not to include the food! I'd write about how there seemed to be as many restaurants as people, most of them overpriced and under-serviced. There were pretty girls with menus standing outside each, beckoning like Sirens to entice weary travelers into buying a nice $45 pitcher of margaritas and staying for the warm, damp quesadilla that no doubt awaited them. Lucky them. I only got caught once. But I felt bad for the Siren at the restaurant next door to our hostel. She was obviously freezing in her bulky down parka and asked each one of our dozen at least three times a night if we wanted to experience a place called Oh! Mexico! After the first night, we didn't.

But, off the beaten path, there were some gems I found. One of these had the conspicuous absence of Sirens at the door, but nonetheless had a full bar and a line of people that stretched around the corner, waiting for a seat. Purerto Saugua (which means "great Cuban food at modest prices" in Spanish) was my most-visited restaurant of the week. In fact, it was the only place that got repeat business -- twice over! The other gem was a Haitian place, once again off the beaten path, near a strip mall that had a store named "Philly in Miami". Could have been a store with a nod to the 1920's about a girl, a bit of a hussy most likely, who found her way into Miami, a "Philly in Miami" if there ever was one. But that would've been too obvious, as it would then be a store for 95% of the women in South Beach. Or, it could've been a cheap ripoff of an Italian eatery, with Philly cheesesteaks and the like. Turns out it was a shoe store. Go figure!

I won't talk too much about work because, well, there wasn't that much to talk about. But maybe I'll touch on it if I ever get around to writing a post about my trip to Miami...