Key West (Florida in general) has been a tough nut to crack, it is unlike any area we have visited before. Florida has a sunny reputation, but we found it to be quite cold from our personal perspective. Many people were closed off and unwelcoming, and we struggled to meet people and form a friend group. We did not find community with other people who lived on boats, as much as we tried.
As a tourist destination, we did find the service industry here exceptional. We were always greeted, sat, and served quickly. Rarely was there an error with our order. In most of the long-standing establishments, the staff were clearly people who had worked there a very long time, which seemed to imply that Key West valued hiring people with staying power, over young, temporary seasonals. But the tourist population turns over every few days, or even every single day, in the case of the giant cruise ships that dock daily. Add in the insular nature of the naval air station, and the area is quite tribal. The people who live here vs the people who just blow through.
Paul and I stayed for two months, long enough to become a familiar sight to some, and I did see some people starting to warm up to us. We followed a lot of our old playbook for making friends; going to the same places, talking to many people, offering our assistance when it looked like it was needed, talking to our boat neighbors, inviting people over for sun-downers or freshly baked cake. But it appears that we will be leaving Key West with only one real friend made; a boat neighbor who we didn’t get to spend nearly enough time with.
People were sometimes weird when they found out we are from California, often complaining about things like “the taxes” (by the way, Key West has a combined sales tax of 7.5%, nothing to sneeze at), “fires,” “earthquakes” and “politics” (a topic we NEVER raise while traveling). As if those things were getting in the way of being friendly to a neighbor saying hello. As if Paul and I were an actual wildfire.
At times we were met with outright hostility. A few long-term residents in the mooring field we utilized were rude to us without reason, dismissive, and bad neighbors (running generators 24 hours a day, or letting their dog bark for hours, or not offering a hand when other boats were struggling). The dockmaster in town was a popular figure to hate, with outdated and hard to discern rules and a really aggressive attitude. Some people seemed scared of him. The area has a run-down feel, with multiple wrecks left to rot in the mooring field (partially submerged), and more blowing onto the shallow reefs every weather event. I can count 5 abandoned boats from where I sit. This makes navigating the area treacherous in most conditions.
So, it’s not the people we’ll miss. And at 95% humidity on some days, it’s not the weather we’ll miss either. But there are some things that made us happy here: we’ll miss riding our bikes in a small town that was in many ways reminiscent of beach towns I grew up in. We’ll miss talking to chickens like they are people, or cracking jokes as they cross the road. We’ll miss the centralized cemetery, so much a part of the town that riding our bikes through it was a near daily occurrence. We’ll miss the Godzilla sightings of green iguanas, sunning in the mangroves or the hot sidewalks. The polydactyl cats that roamed the streets, somehow in harmony with the local chickens. The colorful houses, like many in the Caribbean, painted with an eye toward brightness and joy, decorated with art. The long dinghy rides to shore over shallow and clear water, with small silver sides darting in the sun like jewels and cormorants popping up, tiny long-necked sea monsters on the hunt.
We’ll miss the Mardi Gras feel of Duvall Street, tourists enjoying a vacation from their snowy homes and walking the sidewalk with open drink containers and massive, shapely sunburns. The popcorn at the Green Parrot, a salty and dehydrating treat. It was nice to see so many people happy for a good time.
We will miss the Keys- the small patches of sand that scatter the shallow water, including beautiful Garden Key with Fort Jefferson, and our favorite fish we’ve met so far, a Goliath Grouper we called Wanda. The brown noddies and the sooty terns. Giggling at naughty sounding bird names. Jumping into clear water. Sailing on turquoise sea and seeing the sandy bottom from the deck.
2 months is a long time for us to stay in a place, and we are ready to move on, to try our hand at sailing and working simultaneously, and continuing the voyage to find the lovely places of the world. Our bow will be pointed north next, for the spring and summer.
Hugs and Kisses,
Lindsay and Paul (published after our 30 hour sail to Miami)
(PS if you want a postcard, please send me your address and I will gladly mail one from where we happen to be!)
TIBURON MARINO 