May 6th, 1990. Arriving in Miami Beach Greyhound station at 5:55 am was undoubtedly better than arriving there at night. I was warned that it could be dangerous, so I took the ‘H’ bus straight to the hostel. This was an old hotel turned into a youth hostel and it was a pink! These places were shockingly different to merry old England and delightful to look at.
Being fairly quiet, I grabbed some tourist information from the desk and journaled,
“Hurled myself at Miami. Visited Little Havana first, which was bustling with life. Even the street signs are in Spanish – feels like a different country. Got a bit lost walking around, but in the process explored most of the downtown area. Loved seeing the daily lives of people in different places. Spent some time sitting on the beach – such white sand! Fabulous art deco buildings, even the Burger King is deco. Feels so tropical seeing all the pink and green storefronts.”
Traveling thoughts
Traveling like this requires you carry everything you might possibly need with you that would be hard to find on the road. To save on cost, hostels don’t provide any bedding, so a good sleeping bag is a must. I had altered my sleeping bag to seal up around my head and sewn in a pillow at the top. Exhausted, I slept like a rock that first night in Miami only to find in the morning I had been eaten alive by a single mosquito, that was trapped in my sleeping bag! This was a whole new experience for me and a new level of itchy! (Mosquitoes don’t exist in England!)
The next day I wrote, “Spent the today soaking up the sunshine, but feeling super out of place. Having no set schedule or anyone to explain or answer to, is disorientating. Life up to now has always seemed like a race, driving myself to the next win. Here on this trip there is no reference point, no-one knows or cares what I do. But then I suppose this is why I came – to find that thing in life I am missing that wasn’t in the 9-5.”
Calling Home
“ Today I bought a 1968 shirt and a storekeeper showed me how to pick a good mango! People are so much more friendly here than England. The hostel is quiet, and I am feeling very lonely and in a dark mood. Called mum and almost cried on the phone as I miss her so much! She is so wonderful. Hope she didn’t notice. I must cope with whatever comes my way and not get so sad.”
Two days and one night in Miami was enough for this girl, so I got on a 5:50 pm Greyhound bound for Key West arriving that night at 10:30 pm.
The Keys
“Feeling much better on the bus and met some great folk who talked all the way there. Met Gaby, a German girl traveling like me, and Mike, who was going into the Navy. He grew up in the Keys and told us some history of the islands. He had lived most of his life on the water! These 2 lane bridges between the islands are crazy scary. Nothing but pale, clear blue ocean either side of the bus!!
Gaby and I were met at the bus depot by a rep from a hostel that was $12 a night – turns out there was a 3-day island festival going on, so places were packed out. The next couple of days were spent experiencing some weird firsts. First fresh coconut drunk with a straw, first real southern breakfast with grits and Cuban toast, first taste of Key lime pie, and the first-time watching a town celebrate the sun setting! Some worshipped the sun, and most clapped at its disappearance!
In all the vibe here was relaxed, fun, and touristy, with a little crazy money thrown in. Ernest Hemingway lived here in the 1930’s, so there was signs everywhere – Hemingway drank here, lived here, ate here or wrote here.
Sloppy Joe’s was the place to be seen at night and is seemed the whole town was drunk by 8:30 pm. During the day yachts, scuba diving, boat trips, eating and drinking filled most people’s time here in Key West.
At 7am Key West Greyhound Bus Station I was ready to catch the next bus. It was time to move on to New Orleans to catch the end of the Jazz Festival.