Because I had a voucher from when we were going to come to America I used it to fly to Key West. The first announcement I heard at the airport was to remember not to take your firearms onto the plane. Astonishing. It was a forty-minute flight and when I got to Key West I had breakfast at Harpoon Harry’s where the staff were thrilled at my accent. This was not the last such occasion.
Then I went to the Eden House Hotel which, from the photos, looked good. Buyer beware, it was dreadful. One of the three worst hotels I have been in. The room was nothing like the pictures, it had no desk, nowhere to hang clothes other than three hooks on the wall and two coat hangers just above the safe.
Fuming, I tried to get a change of room but the Receptionist said this one, a rabbit hutch, was one of the biggest and in any case, the hotel was full. Later that evening, when another resident said it was a great place I told him my room was tiny. He took me into his which was bigger and better furnished. I wandered around the port and had a great meal in a place called Off the Hook. I checked out of the Eden the next morning and went to The Palms Hotel, which was very much better, considerably cheaper and with a much more professional staff. The room felt like heaven in comparison.
As I wandered around the town I was astonished at the number of chickens running around the streets. The noise of cars was drowned by that of their crows. I found out later that Key West had been a centre for cockfighting until the middle of the last century and that these birds were descendants of those birds.
I went to a restaurant run by a man from Kazakhstan and had a Greek lunch. Life is full of little surprises like this. The next day I went on the free bus around the town and in the afternoon visited the Hemingway House and Museum. Here’s his little writing room.
We studied For Whom the Bell Tolls for CSE and I have never warmed to Hemingway’s writing since. The tour was interesting, his writing office rather more charming than I would have thought such a determinedly rugged man would have used. Even his typewriter was petite although I presume that was because he had to cart it around the world.
I began to think how much I enjoyed being able to chat casually with people I bumped into and seriously considered that maybe I should move back to England. I even looked at places in Bath, Stratford Upon Avon and Oxford. I’ll ponder it.
I went to the Butterfly Reserve which was like walking into a garden of fairies. One, a large Blue Morpho sat on my hand for over five minutes. A lovely young couple took a photo of it and it didn’t move even when I was rummaging in my bag for a card and, failing that, wrote my email on their phone.
For various reasons I associate butterflies with Janine and this felt like a very special visitor. Perhaps trying to tell me something about my thoughts on moving. Certainly, the next day, I thought it might be better to stay in France and escape the hot summer months by staying in England and chatting to people to my heart’s content.
The following day I went to what is known as Harry Truman’s Little Whitehouse, so called because although lots of Presidents used it for their holidays, he spent a lot of time there, working as well as relaxing. I saw the table where some momentous decisions were made, including the planning of the Marshall Plan, vast amounts of money sent to rebuild Europe after World War 2. I think the world can be grateful to President Truman and the others involved for this generous vision.
Key West, so sum up, was my kind of town. It was raffish, bohemian, with fascinating buildings and laid-back, friendly people. I shall certainly visit again.