Warning, this one is long so I added a lot of pictures to make it go quickly.
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| A picture of our approach, Jupiter is the white dot in the upper left corner |
I jetted off to
Fort Lauderdale last weekend for some fun in the sun before the Christmas holiday. I had two free nights from Starwood Hotels and on a whim I picked Florida as the place to use them. I thought that would be nice to get a bit of relaxation before the end of the year holidays completely kicked in.
Friday, I left work a little early for the airport. I
breezed through security, got a cup of Peet’s, boarded my flight, miraculously scored a row with an empty middle seat, settled in my flight and lost myself in the pages of a book to pass the time. Finally my attention waned from the book when that captain announced our initial approach to the airport – high visibility, very few clouds, 76°F. It was dusk and I could see the sunset over the clouds in the distance; Jupiter was high and bright in the sky. I remenisced about my last pre-Christmas vacation, a trip to Abu Dhabi, where I tried to get a picture of the
Emirates Hotel with Jupiter high in the sky. With a minor jolt from our final approach, I focused out the window to see Miami about 30 miles away south of the airport.
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| My ocean-view from my hotel room |
I took a cab to my hotel, a 6-mile trek that cost about $20 with tip. (I was surprised to see that most of the cabs I took weren’t equipped for credit cards.) I checked into the
Sheraton Fort Lauderdale Beach Hotel and got a room in the Marina building (there three different building in the complex) which was across Seabreeze Boulevard (A1A) via a skywalk. The hotel touts a multi-million dollar renovation. Its investment is evident inside; the lobby is a tasteful decorated with wicker and sea shells in cooling colors of teal and sky blue, evocative of the beach just outside. My room was painted in blues and creams; it was spacious with a king-sized bed and offered great views of the ocean and the marina. The sea is brought into the hotel through the halls and rooms with simple beach and water themed art and photography. I found it easy to get settled and quickly changed into shorts to match my vacation mindset.
I decided to get my lay of the land and googled maps of the area and yelp reviews for places to eat. I found
Coconuts, up the road. While the reviews ranged from okay to excellent, it seemed like a good enough place to belly up from some grub. The location can’t be beat – sitting on the Intercoastal Waterway. As a solo diner, I was able to get a table on the deck and take in some of the water traffic.
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| Sorry, I already hopped in for a nap before I took a picture |
I had ordered the conch fritters and the rib special. The conch fritters were fine, though I have to admit that they were light on the conch. The dough was a little sweet with a hint of corn and they were fried a good golden brown. The rib special was a 10oz of pork ribs, in a dry rub of salt, pepper, dried rosemary, oregano and thyme, grilled to fall-off-the-bone perfection and drizzled with a balsamic vinegar reduction. The two dishes complimented each other well, from the light, sweet and chewy appetizer to the rich, succulent pork with good acid finish. I partnered my meal with a
Monk in the Trunk Organic Amber Ale. It was a nice malty, spicy smelling beer and had a mild spice flavor, with a little bit of earthiness from the yeast. The beer changed in sweetness first bite of the fritter. All in all, it was a fine meal. Yet, the location brings Coconuts to the forefront for me; it was a delight to dine by the water.
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| A tour boat on the Intercoastal Waterway decked out for the Holidays |
After dinner, I looked for a watering hole. Again I used the internet to find a bar and learn bus system, but I learned that they end around 10 or so. Crestfallen, I decide to tackle the one thing that had been bugging me since I decide to visit Fort Lauderdale - the street naming and number system. After reviewing the maps for the buses, I noticed that the city is
laid out as a grid; the intersection of Broward Boulevard (x-axis)
and Andrews Avenue (y-axis) serves as the zero-point. All numbered
streets and courts go east to west and all numbered avenues and terraces
go north to south. Each numbered street gets a directional (SE, SW, NE,
NW) based on their direction from Broward and Andrews. However the
named streets get a cardinal directional depending on which axis they
intersect. This seems to be the general model for most of Broward County.
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| Art, downtown |
With that piece of information unlocked, I choose to go to the Cubby Hole, the closest bar to the hotel. I took a cab and a $14 ride to a quiet stretch of US Route 1. The bar is in a strip mall and I tried the door. It was locked, and it took me some effort to figure out that the entrance was off the parking lot in the back. I entered; it was a typical-looking neighborhood dive bar - the smell of stale smoke lingered in the air. Yet, the music was fun. I looked for a seat, ordered a beer and tried to take in the atmosphere. However, I couldn't figured anything out because my bartenders were good, friendly fellows. Recognizing that I wasn't from here, they introduced themselves. I like when I can pony up to the bar and chat with the bartenders, I can learn a lot about a place doing that. One of them, John, asked me if I had been to Wilton Manors; he described it as their Castro. As the night drew on, the music got more fun. I had 1/2 a beer more than I should and agreed with the bartenders that the bars don't need to be open until 3am on the weekend in Fort Lauderdale. With that said, I ended up closing down the bar, promising to be back, and getting a cab back to my hotel, but I was armed with the idea to check out Wilton Manors.
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| Nurmi Isles |
The next morning started too early for me. I thought that I had made my hotel room impervious to light however there was a sliver under the door that was oozing sunshine. It was made worse when the occupants of the room across from me would exit, the sunlight from their open room assaulted my door and burst through that little crack that aimed for my face. Then this attack was punctuated by the slamming of their door. Yet, I lazily stayed in bed for as long as I could, but, eventually, I would need to do things - visit the bathroom, drink water, crave coffee and eat. To bide my time, I ran to the lobby and got a big chocolate chip muffin. The sweet treat stopped my stomach from growling and that was the reason for getting it in the first place.
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| Las Olas Isles |
I looked up venues to go that night and Bill's
Filling Station got some good reviews. It seemed like it would be more
my speed and less likely a dance-a-teria. With my evening places confirmed, I finally figured out the bus system in Broward County to plan the rest of my stay. However, the bus system didn’t have me figured out. I made it to the bus stop to take a ride to downtown and I waited, sitting on the bus stop bench. I wondered if I had missed the bus since I can tend to be late. I looked down on my phone to check the schedule while still sitting on the bench when the bus, on time, sped past me. Annoyed, I decided to walk and I scratched off a hike in Hugh Taylor Birch State Park from my list.
I strolled up A1A to Las Olas; turned left and walked.
Eventually I knew that I would run into the Stranahan House, an important building on the National Register of Historic Places, which roughly sits on the intersection of SE 6th Avenue and Las Olas. It’s been herald as the birthplace of Fort Lauderdale. Yet, I was on a walk and took in the sights. Spanish for the waves, Las Olas runs from the beach to the center of town. After crossing a drawbridge, I walked through the Idlewyld, Seven Isles, Las Olas Isles, Colee Hammoock and Beverly Heights neighborhoods. The road is interlaced with canals and waterfront homes. Boats were docked by houses like cars in driveways. By the Beverly Heights neighborhood, the canals and boats give way to the commercial area which is alive with bars, clubs, bridal stores, shops, boutiques, art galleries, restaurants and hotels in a clash of culture like South Street meeting Rittenhouse Square.
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| One of the Stranahan House's Christmas Trees |
I made it to my destination, the
Stranahan House. This unassuming structure served as the second trading post built by Frank Stranahan and today is the oldest building in Fort Lauderdale. Its history is, for the most part, as only slightly older than the city, which celebrates its centennial this year.
Not too much in known about Frank but he was originally from Ohio, outside of Youngstown. In 1893, he heard word through acquaintances that there was a need for a ferry operator for the New River crossing to connect Lantana to Lemon City, now North Miami in 1893. The location on both the river and the new road, which eventually became US Route 1, created an epicenter of active.
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| The Stranahan House |
The New River was a source of commerce for the city. Seminoles from the Everglades would travel down to the New River Settlement to trade their pelts, feathers and native crafts and art for sewing machines, canned goods and tobacco. The Native Americans’ goods were in such high demand since women’s fashion at turn of the century was very lavish, utilizing fur and feathers. At the same time, the original journey between Lantana and Lemon City was a $10 stagecoach ride that took two days. Travelers camped overnight in wooden-floored tents. It was a wise decision to move the trading post from up the river to the current location. Stranahan acquired the surrounding land, over 10 acres for around a $1 an acre. The confluence of people and the ample acreage of the homestead contributed to Stranaham's early success.
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| The New River from the Stranahan House |
During its history, the building also served as the town hall and post office before it became his home in 1906 when he completed the renovations of the existing structure for his wife, Ivy, whom he married six years prior. Mrs. Stranahan was Fort Lauderdale's first teacher; she was a Florida native, born in North Florida who moved with her family to Lemon City trying to avoid the frost line. Ahead of her time, Mrs. Stranahan was a vegetarian, practiced yoga and provide for the less fortunate – including funding the first African-American school in town.
In the late 1920’s, the Great Depression hit as well as two hurricanes, the 1926 Miami Hurricane and the 1928 Okeechobee Hurricane. These disasters, coupled with Frank’s diagnosis and treatment for prostate cancer, pushed him to take his own life. After Frank’s death Ivy Stranahan kept the house, but rented out the first floor to a restaurant known as the Pioneer House to make ends meet. Mrs. Stranaham died in 1971 and the Seventh-Day Adventist Church sold it to the Fort Lauderdale Historical Society in 1979. In 1981, a non-profit corporation set up to preserve and maintain the house for all to visit.
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| A pink house in the Tarpon River neighborhood |
After my tour, I strolled throughout the downtown area and returned to my hotel via bus. Finally I was getting the hang of it and by the end of the trek, I had logged over 4 miles of walking. I picked up a cubano sandwich and a Key West salad at a cafe on A1A. The cubano was simply delicious; it could have been because I was famished. Though I attribute it to the spicy and honey mustard slathered over a pile of thinly sliced ham and thick slices of pork, pressed together and bound by gooey melted Swiss cheese lined with sweet, crunchy, tart pickles. The mayonnaise-dressed salad would be saved for dinner since I was going back to the hotel for a disco nap.
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| Fort Lauderdale Centennial decorations |
Refreshed from my siesta, I enjoyed the crab meat and shrimp salad with celery and green onions and filled me up for the night on the town. I showered, dressed and noticed that I had gotten a little sun kissed from my long walk. I was happy to have a slight healthy glow. I finished dressing and headed to Wilton Drive via the bus. I saw a lot of the city and its Holiday decorations, seemingly out of place - snowflakes and snowmen, but I was charmed. I made it to the Drive and headed toward Bill's
Filling Station. While not as over the top as the Castro, I understood what John meant by his comments the last night. It is the area's gay ghetto.
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| I was really on A1A |
I entered Bill's and was surprised at the low density of the crowd; there were only two scores of folks. It was 11pm on a Saturday night and the bars are open until 3pm on the weekend. There was a raffle going on from some charity, so volunteers were asking the patrons for donations.There was a lesbian cover band, dressed mostly in stereotypical attire – flannels and sports jerseys – though the bass player was more forward dressing; she simply wore black. I heard them playing Melissa Etheridge, Adele and Green Day. While I appreciated their rendition of "Come To My Window," no-one can sing like Adele but Adele. After a $5 bottle of Miller Lite, I used my iPhone to find what other places lay around.
George's Alibi, or Alibi for short, read like the aforementioned dance-a-teria that I feared, but a different site gave it a more favorable review. It was also in a strip mall, but it took a huge footprint of the mall, complete with outdoor seating for dinner and for smoking. I walked in to find it cavernous. I walked to the far side of the main bar and the bartender smiled to ask me what I'd like. Nothing too special was on tap, except there was Yuengling. I paid my $4.75 for the pint and enjoyed the crowd and music. Two beers later, I noticed someone I knew. Steve from Atlanta had moved to Fort Lauderdale and landed a gig as security for the bar. We caught up and I realized that I was having fun, yet by 12:30 the crowd thinned. I hailed a cab and headed back to the Cubby HoleI to finish the night with my newly minted bartender friends.
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| The beach, taken in HDR |
I cabbed it back to the hotel after closing the bar down again only to fall quickly asleep. Yet again, the sunshine pummeled me awake and, though I fought it, I succumbed to its power. I took the opportunity to get to the beach and enjoy the sun, the warmth, the sand and the sea. I knew it would only be a matter of hours before I boarded back on a plane coming home. I would be ready for Christmas. I didn't know that I was going to be greeted by 34°F weather when I got home.
For a more complete album of the trip, visit
here.
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