The young Latina leaned against the door jamb, disinterestedly watching tourists stream past. Her four-inch stilettos, strapless bustier, and leather hotpants suggested the oldest profession on earth, yet she stood in the doorway of a family-owned bodega where Ybor City’s residents gather each day to sip strong espresso, share gossip, and slam dominoes. Unlike Miami Beach, where I was disappointed by the lack of Latin flavor, Ybor City is the real deal: an historic Cuban district in Florida’s Tampa Bay area.

A lady of the night or just waiting for the party to start?

Some years ago I had lunched at Ybor City’s Columbia Restaurant, famous for their  authentic Spanish cuisine. In the light of day, empty storefronts, peeling paint, and wind-blown trash suggested despair and decay. I checked the neighborhood off my list of places to see, never intending to return. But as fate would have it, I was unexpectedly detained in Tampa this past Halloween eve. As the last rays of daylight slowly faded I searched for a hotel along unfamiliar streets and suddenly found myself in Ybor City.

This was not the Ybor City I remembered! Curvy metal trellises decorated with white lights arched over the main street as far as I could see. Vivid neon signs threw reflections into the street and the aroma of strong coffee mingled with rich Cuban cigar smoke. Under cover of darkness, neglect melted away, replaced by pools of golden light spilling from bars and cafes and throbbing Latin beats. Buildings that had once seemed dilapidated suddenly oozed charm.

Ybor City owes its existence to the cigar industry. In 1884, Henry B. Plant completed his railroad to Tampa and was in the process of improving the port facilities at Port Tampa. Realizing that Cuban leaf tobacco, the best in the world, and the finished tobacco products could easily be imported and exported, Vicente Martinez Ybor founded Ybor City as a cigar manufacturing center in 1886. He quickly attracted experienced cigar workers from Spain, Cuba and Italy, establishing Tampa as the “Cigar Capital of the World.”

Ybor City at night is a fun cultural travel destination

Life in those early years revolved around social clubs that were organized to serve specific ethnic groups (L’unione Italiana for Italians, El Circulo Cubano for Cubans, Club Marti-Maceo for Afro-Cubans, among others). Not only did these clubs preserve the cultural heritage from one generation to the next, members could also subscribe Read the rest of this entry »

Pyramid of 200 painted bowling balls are stacked in the front yard of "Whimzy," home of artists Todd Ramquist and Kiaralinda

Everywhere I went in the small village of Safety Harbor, Florida, people told me the same thing: “You have to see the bowling ball house.” It was easy to find, but even without directions it would have been hard to miss the pyramid of 200 bowling balls stacked on the front lawn. Fascinated, I walked around the corner lot. Crazy quilt pathways of multi-colored ceramic tiles wound through grounds where bowling balls lined garden beds, balanced on pillars, and peeked out from beneath jungle vegetation. Even the mailbox sat on a stack of bowling balls.

A creation of husband and wife artists Todd Ramquist and Kiaralinda, “Whimzey” began when Kiaralinda saw a single bowling ball decorating the cactus garden in front of a house. “I thought it was a neat idea, but I wanted more.” Not long afterward, she spotted a rack of bowling balls at a flea market. “The sign said: ’10 free bowling balls per person.’ In those days we were driving some little car that could barely fit two people, but we crammed it with 40 free bowling balls.”

When Todd and Kiaralinda set up an outdoor table and began painting the balls, neighbors wandered over to see what was going on. “Kids started asking if they cold paint a bowling ball, so we gave them all brushes and let them go,” said Todd. Before long, people began dropping off old bowling balls to be used in the design. Wondering what to do with the surplus, they invited artist friends to paint a bowling ball. To their surprise, many accepted the offer; these creations, affectionately dubbed the Read the rest of this entry »

When Dr. Robert Andrews first proposed that a series of historically accurate, educational murals be painted on downtown buildings in Punta Gorda, Florida, some residents opposed the idea, insisting the murals would be nothing more than “graffiti.” Business leaders, on the other hand, loved the idea. They formed the Punta Gorda Historic Mural Society (PGHMS) in 1994 and successfully lobbied the City Council for permission to paint the first one on a large blank wall of a former shopping center located on U.S. 41 Northbound. Once the first mural was completed, others quickly followed, and residents who had initially opposed the idea began taking guests around town, proudly showing off the works of art.

Cattle Drive Down Marion Ave, 1903

Over the next ten years, more than 90 murals were painted at 20 different sites. Then disaster struck. On Friday, August 13, 2004, Hurricane Charley roared onshore at Punta Gorda as a category 4 storm with sustained winds in excess of 145 miles per hour (to get a sense of the destruction, check out this post on the TampaBay.com blog; click on each photo to see the same scene, as it looked immediately following the hurricane). In one short hour, 11,000 of the city’s 16,000 homes were totally destroyed, along with six schools and six fire stations. About 300 businesses were leveled. And half of the mural sites were gone.

FEMA Photo

Five years later, the occasional vacant lot is still visible, but buildings that were damaged beyond repair have been torn down and debris has been carted away. In their place, new facilities have sprouted. Downtown has colorful new shops, luxury hotels, and a new convention center. Schools and fire stations were rebuilt with state-of-the-art facilities. The murals, too, are slowly being recreated. Read the rest of this entry »

Although I don’t pretend to understand the surreal images of distorted females and melting clocks that pervade the art of Salvador Dali, his work had always intrigued me. I simply assumed the symbolism was an unknowable product of a demented mind. So I was surprised when the docent at the Salvador Dali Museum in St. Petersburg, Florida commented, “Luckily, Dali spoke and wrote voluminously about the meaning of his artwork while he was alive, thus we understand what each piece is meant to represent.”

Fascinated, I followed the docent around the gallery as she related the history behind each piece and explained what the artist was trying to convey in his bizarre landscapes. With its 96 oils created between 1917-1970, the Salvador Dalí Museum is the permanent home of the world’s most comprehensive collection of the renowned Spanish artist’s work, including the Impressionist and Cubist styles of his early period, abstract work from his transition to Surrealism, the famous surrealist canvases for which he is best known, and examples of his preoccupation with religion and science during his classic period.

The tour ended at a sunken gallery where half a dozen of Dali’s enormous religious canvases hung. At the suggestion of our guide, we stood above and looked down on these floor-to-ceiling pieces in order to have a wider view. This was a different Dali – one that I had never experienced. “Look closely – what do you see?” our guide asked, gesturing toward the oil titled, “Halucinogenic Toreador.”

"Halucinogenic Toreador" - What do you see in the painting?

I’d spotted the most obvious of the double images even before she asked, but was astonished when she began pointing out dozens of double images secreted throughout the painting. Almost everyone in the room could see the two male toreadors emerging from the two main Venus de Milo statues. Most could discern the Dalmatian dog hidden at the bottom of the painting and the head of the slain bull, with its pool of blood represented as a blue lagoon. But I had to get up close to see the smaller hidden images. The panting is littered with Venus de Milo statues and each one, no matter how tiny, contains the hidden image of a toreador’s face.

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Sarasota’s split personality has always intrigued me. As a retirement community, the average age of its residents is well above the national average and even significantly above the Florida average. On the other hand, several universities and community colleges located in Sarasota County, including the renowned Ringling College of Art and Design, infuse the community with vibrant, creative young people. This youthful energy translates into quirky fashion; unique art; and always, music, music, music.

Most any day of the week I can find live music in downtown Sarasota, but my favorite event is open mic night every Wednesday from 7 to 10 p.m. at Pastry Art on Main. Some weeks feature fiddlers and dobro players; other times, acoustic guitars dominate. Last week, the organizers of this free event, David Brain and Carmela Pedicini (a fabulous musician and vocalist known locally as “Radio-Free-Carmela) outdid themselves. They spread the word that Comcast would be on hand to film the event for their on-demand channel and local talent flocked to the cafe like never before.

For nearly four hours I sipped Americano coffee and nibbled ginger shortbread cookies while a remarkable lineup of artists performed original folk, blues, rock, and indie material. Long-time favorites Michael Read the rest of this entry »

When John Audubon first visited the Punta Gorda area on Florida’s Gulf coast in the early 19th century, he wrote that wading birds were so numerous that thousands flying overhead transformed daylight into darkness. Yet less than 100 years later the profligate population had been decimated. In small part, the decline was caused by homesteaders moving in by the droves and spoiling habitats. Far more destructive, however, was the quest for plumage to decorate ladies’ hats. Hired by fashion houses in Paris, New York and London, poachers and hunters slaughtered millions of birds in their quest for white nuptial feathers of the great and snowy egrets. By the early 1900′s, only an estimated 500,000 wading birds remained.

In 1918 the Migratory Bird Treaty Act became law and these birds were finally protected. By the 1930′s their numbers had increased to 1.2 million and since the 1970′s they have made a significant recovery. Today, standing on the shores of the Peace River in Punta Gorda, Florida, birds are abundant: egrets, herons, ibis, spoonbills, and wood storks are among the species easily spotted. Yet wading birds, reptiles, and mammals who inhabit the area still face serious threats from mankind. Discarded plastic bags, six-pack plastic rings, and lead sinkers and fishing line lost by fishermen can cause serious damage to animals when swallowed or snagged. Collisions with cars and trucks are a major problem for endangered species such as Florida black bears, Florida panthers, Key deer, American crocodiles, indigo snakes, red-cockaded woodpeckers, and brown pelicans.

Fortunately, Peace River Wildlife Center is there to help. The nonprofit organization, which occupies a small corner of Ponce de Leon Park in Punta Gorda, is dedicated to the rehabilitation, preservation and protection of Charlotte County’s native wildlife. With the exception of a few paid employees, the Read the rest of this entry »

Trinkets and souvenirs rarely interest me when I travel, but I find it almost impossible to pass by a farm stand selling local honey. Each of the half dozen varieties lining my kitchen shelves has a particular use: a thick, full-bodied Blackberry honey from the Virginia hills is best drizzled over fresh fruit, while scarce honey from Sourwood tree blossoms found in the mountains of North Carolina is perfect on toast. However my most recent acquisition, Babcock’s Wilderness Nectar, had remained unopened since I purchased it from the gift shop at Crescent B Ranch in south central Florida.

Smaller alligator suns on a swamp log

I’d gone to the Crescent B to take a Swamp Buggy Eco-Tour of the ranch’s 90,000 acres of oak hammocks, pine woods, pastures, wetlands, and swamps, all located within the Babcock Wilderness Area. Swamps have always conjured images of black water, boot-sucking mud, and alligators submerged to their eyeballs, patiently waiting to chomp on a passing leg. To me these dank, dangerous places were devoid of beauty and to be avoided at all costs, thus it was with some trepidation that I boarded the old Bluebird school bus, long since painted in a khaki and olive drab camouflage, for my hour and a half tour.

Old Bluebird school bus grinds along rough sand tracks throughout the ranch

Our driver forced the rattletrap bus into gear and lurched onto a rough sand track. A moment later we sighted our first alligator, a foot long baby perched on a waterlogged branch in a drainage ditch. We rumbled across a brilliant chartreuse pasture and ducked into an unspoiled stand of moss-draped longleaf pine and Sawgrass Palmettos. On the other side, the forest opened onto a broad plain where cracker cattle Read the rest of this entry »

Just six of the 720 parking spaces were occupied when I pulled into the lot of Muscle Car City. I surveyed the squat building before me. Despite a fancy black and white checkerboard paint job, it still looked every inch a converted Wal-Mart. Inside the only sound was a hushed conversation between two elderly gentlemen sipping coffee in the Muscle Car Diner. Even the two employees standing behind the front counter were eerily silent. But when I stepped through the door separating the sterile gift shop from the museum, my world reeled. Vintage neon signs cast electric colors on long walls. Car wax and engine oil scented the air. Row after row of highly polished muscle cars stretched out before me, their hoods propped open like alligators waiting to chomp down on their prey. Was I really hearing deep-throated engines revving up at the starting line, aching to drag race, or was it just my imagination, conjuring up memories from my youth?

Row after row of classic cars

This 99,000 square foot museum, which contains more than 200 classic cars and hot rods spanning 35 years of makes and models, is the culmination of a lifetime of collecting for owner Rick Treworgy. Its extensive inventory of GM Performance cars includes Z-28 Camaros, 396 Camaros, SS Chevelles, SS El Caminos, big block Impalas, Pontiac GTOs, Oldsmobile 442s, and one or more Corvettes for each year from 1954 through 2006, making the museum one of the largest muscle car displays in the nation.

Look at that gorgeous Chevy grillework!

Treworgy doesn’t remember the exact moment when his hobby became a business. “I was young and working in the construction industry, and I knew there would be no pension for me down the road. At some point I realized that the muscle cars I had been restoring were my retirement.” His obsession had Read the rest of this entry »

I’ve lived in downtown Sarasota for nearly three years and thought I’d seen everything the city center had to offer until the other day, when I took a walk along Sarasota Bay. Just two blocks from the heart of downtown I discovered an arched entryway leading to Bayfront Park, a half-mile long peninsula jutting into the bay. Intrigued, I stepped through the archway and into an alternate reality of grass-roofed shacks, brightly colored water sport equipment, tiki bars, multi-million dollar yachts at anchor, outdoor sculpture, elaborate playground equipment, and a circular recessed fountain where children romped in columns of water burbling from the ground.

Gateway to Sarasota's Bayfront Park

Rent paddle boats, kayaks, and jet skis at the little grass shack

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