See the colors on this business card? This is called a “Rainbow Eucalyptus” and the bark continually peels off, turning these colors on exposure to the air. Wallace and I saw this on our day excursion to Flamingo, out on the southwest coast. Like most people, he thought the Everglades was a swamp, when in fact, it is a nearly treeless grassland and often has long droughts. According to the seller, the tree does very well in Florida. Mind you, there are other Australian trees that have also done the same here.
We took the long way around and drove through Homestead, FL. Stopping for the ritual Key Lime milkshake at “Robert Is Here”. (Correct, that is the name of a very popular roadside fruit stand in the Redlands area). There was a talented eleven-year-old kid played us “Hotel California” on a hollow-body guitar. Did I mention a flat tire in the rental car? We had to turn back in to town from the park boundary.The upside is that it was a perfect day for touristing. Despite the setback of fixing the tire, we managed to stop at several of the displays, stops and special sites. For example, there is a hammock where some mahogany trees have taken root. These hammocks are originally built by alligators as a nest, and the inch or two of higher elevation makes an entirely different ecosystem.
It was just a day trip, but I did notice a lot of campers out there. It is one of the quieter spots in the area. Due to the way I was raised, I do not necessarily consider it a treat to sleep in an uncomfortable tent a hundred miles from civilization, with mosquitos and cooking over an open fire. Once in a while is okay, I suppose.All Wallace’s kids want souvenirs. My advice was he go to the waters edge, where there are tons of free seashells, rocks, and dried stems of grass, get them all the momentos they want. It seems they want the kind you buy in the stores. We stopped many a time to look and walk around. We visited the marina just a little too late to go on the narrated boat tour. Last time JP and I were out there, I collected some pine cones from the thousands that were lying all over the place. Every last one of them seems to have disappeared.
Back home by dark, I went over to “Jakes”, a pub on Hallandale just off I-95. I heard they had live entertainment. Define “live”. It was a clone blues band that played every note technically perfect. They had blues costumes and blues moves, but talk about stereotyped presentation. Even the comments on stage between songs seemed to be out of place and rehearsed. There was not one person dancing, just a few blurry-eyed starers in the audience.
As I walked in, the senorita behind the counter and I recognized each other, but by the end of the evening could not recall where from. I got her out on the floor, where I proceeded to make her look fantastic. She was a good follower, so I threw her most of the Silver level West Coast Swing [a dance you would call the “Jive”. She just melted in my arms by the second tune, but alas, she was shacked up with the bouncer so that went nowhere. Sigh. She was a little cutie.
The band, however, seemed to be a little miffed that people were more entertained by the dancing. Especially the greasy looking little guitar player, like I was stealing his show. So I did, serves him right. You know the type, five foot tall with two chapters of the Bible tattooed on his left arm. That band was like listening to a record or tape. Every ending was the standard blues “clobber” ending. Not one original riff but plenty of “look at us” attitude. Way too Florida for me.
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