|
|
Friday, March 30, 2007
Mar 30: A Storied Place
Everyone loves a good story. And I don’t mean only an interesting tale that you read or watch on television or whatever. I mean anything that happens with an attention-grabbing beginning, middle and end. Why else does everyone watch a baseball when it’s hit foul into the stands? It offers a kind of story: the ball player hits the pitch, the ball flies behind the batter toward the stands … and? What happens? Everyone wants to know the rest of the story. Did it hit someone in the head? Was it caught one-handed by some guy? Did it bounce into a child’s glove? How did this little drama conclude?
I was thinking about all that earlier this week when I attended one of the year’s last spring training baseball games at Fort Lauderdale Stadium. The home team Baltimore Orioles took on the away team Florida Marlins. Of course the Marlins were the real home team, with thousands of fans cheering them to an exciting 5-3 win. We all were eating hot dogs and cracking peanuts at the ball park because we wanted a good story. Live, unrehearsed and played out in the heat of competition. But maybe the best story was under our feet.
The old stadium has seen some of baseball’s greats over the past few decades. From 1962 – 1992, the New York Yankees warmed up for their powerhouse seasons there. These teams included many of the finest players ever to take a ball field. Guys like Mickey Mantle, Roger Maris, Yogi Berra, Whitey Ford. In 1993, the Boston Red Sox held spring training at Fort Lauderdale Stadium and soon after that the Orioles took over. They’ve come down for 12 straight years now. I’ve been around that park for some wonderful spring training moments since moving to South Florida. I watched the Yankees’ Dave Winfield return triumphantly to the dugout for the first time after a major injury. I saw the Orioles’ Cal Ripken Junior patiently and pleasantly sign autograph after autograph only months before he topped Lou Gehrig’s consecutive games record. I noticed an elderly Whitey Ford as he strolled across the field after coaching some young pitchers. Baseball is intimately entwined in Fort Lauderdale’s story – past, present and future. I have a feeling this town will continue to add chapters to its long baseball history for some time to come.
Monday, March 26, 2007
Mar 26: Radio Days
This website is singing a new tune. And talking it too. Have you listened yet? Sunny.org has an exciting, innovative feature on the home page and in the “Explore” section. It’s called “Inside 954,” an Internet radio show all about greater Fort Lauderdale. Finding the program is easy. Just click on the little radio icon on the home page. You’ll hear the most recent edition, with the focus on the coming “Summer of Discovery,” as it’s called. Or click on that “Explore” icon, then look for “podcasts” in the right–hand column. Just open the podcasts tab to find two earlier programs on the demise of spring break and the transformation of this area into a chic, upscale destination for adults.
In these first few shows, you can check out interviews with none other than the charming, irrepressible Nicki E. Grossman, who’s president of the Greater Fort Lauderdale Convention & Visitors Bureau. When I worked at the Sun-Sentinel newspaper here in town, Nicki was loved by reporters as a public official who was both friendly to the press corps and actually had something to say. In journalist lingo, she was “a quote machine,” meaning she could make her point in clear, concise and interesting language. If you listen to these three programs, you’ll hear what I mean. I enjoyed interviewing her for these shows as much as I liked talking to her back then. And she knows more about the good things in and around Fort Lauderdale than anyone.
I think you’ll have fun hearing some first-hand suggestions about what to do and where to go from those with a real insider’s perspective. That’s why it’s called “Inside 954.” Each show begins and ends with some very hip original theme music, setting the mood with the sophisticated jazzy sound of Fort Lauderdale itself. Best of all, it comes to you for free, available anywhere you can log onto the Web. Listen on this website or download it to your iPod for later. Not a bad deal. So kick back, tune in and enjoy. You might even want to tell some friends about this one.
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
Mar 20: Easy Livin'
Life is a lot easier in South Florida. I was talking about that with a friend this weekend, as the Northeast was pounded with winter. Again. And as lots of miserable people were stuck waiting on planes to nowhere. Again. Any place with a cold, snowy, icy climate makes daily living a much bigger challenge. So I felt sorry for everybody who endured another blast of winter, just when the calendar is about to flip to spring. I wish I could send you each some sunshine. I remember what it’s like to live without it.
As I’ve mentioned here before, I’m a northerner. From Detroit originally, I have lived all over the midwest and northeast, including Vermont for 14 years. Now that’s cold. It’s common to wear a thick parka and boots just to walk your trash 10 steps to the dumpster. When snow is piled up a foot, there’s really no other choice unless you want to get very wet sneakers. I love Vermont to this day. But I don’t miss that fierce weather. Up north, you tend to plan everything around the forecast, even in the summer. There’s always a real possibility that the Cloud Gods will interfere with your plans. When it’s cold outside: “Maybe we should go see a movie tonight. If it doesn’t snow … “ When it’s warm outside: “Why don’t we go for a picnic tomorrow? Did you see if it’s going to rain?”
Here the weather is rarely a factor in what you do or don’t do. It might be too hot for midday tennis in the summer months, though I’ve played in August at noontime. But if you are wise enough to avoid this, you only have to wait until the sun is down to whack the ball around under the lights. The heat can be outsmarted. Sit by the ocean, sip a cool drink, go out at night. Whatever. But it’s hard to play tennis in a blizzard. That ability to do just about anything you want outside on just about any day you want – this is what makes living easier in a sunny place like Fort Lauderdale. Today, I have the windows wide open, with a cool breeze and pure sunshine sifting through the screens. If you can’t come down for a visit, close your eyes and picture it for a few minutes. Even a dose of imaginary summer can help.
Monday, March 19, 2007
Mar 19: Deep Thoughts with Hoosierboy
A personal realization occurred this past weekend, an epiphany of unbridled proportions. I have been fully converted from a sun seeking tourist to full-fledged local. This became apparent as I trolled around with a friend from out of town, performing the required duties of touring local attractions. The assumption is that he would be the one having a blast, but it turns out that I had just as much fun. Being the theologian that I am, I began to ponder why places such as Fort Lauderdale Beach and Las Olas Boulevard never become cliché. The uniqueness of Fort Lauderdale is that the attractions are not just places. The atmosphere surrounding these sites draws patrons year-after-year. As to why this is the case, each individual must explore his/her own reasoning. Perhaps it is seeing others enjoy the majestic beaches for the first time on a lazy afternoon, sitting at a different table at your favorite restaurant, or trying something new on the menu and discovering that it is the new favorite dish. The only question remaining is how you can ponder such profound questions if you haven’t been to Fort Lauderdale? That is a conundrum in itself. If only Socrates and Aristotle were here to help unwind this puzzling mystery. Whether coming from near or far, for the first time or the hundredth time, travelers should immerse themselves into what Fort Lauderdale has become.
Friday, March 16, 2007
Mar 16: Thai One On
I have a new favorite hangout. It’s been around for months and is only five minutes from my home. I’d poked my head in the door a few times, picked up a takeout menu, flirted with the idea of stopping by. But for some reason I hadn’t gone. Until recently. I’m glad I did. Coco Asian Bistro & Bar is a great place, with friendly people, excellent service and authentic food. I’m just back from a February trip to Thailand and I can report honestly that everything I’ve tasted at Coco reminds me of Bangkok. The flavors are rich and complex, which are among the hallmarks of real Thai cuisine – that blend of sweet and sour, spicy and salty, the taste of contrasts.
Coco is owned by Mike Ponluang and he’s done a great job of assembling his staff. Dan the bartender is very personable and very eager to please his guests. Hostesses Mimi (from Japan), Pon (from Thailand) and Putu (from Indonesia) are delightful and stunningly beautiful. All the waiters and waitresses I’ve met also seem terrific.
The place itself is unusually attractive too. Many Thai restaurants are rarely fancy. Coco is elegant inside, with tasteful chandeliers that accent the dim lighting, a comfortable bar that makes the second drink hard to pass up and booths around the outside of the room that feel like separate alcoves. And though Coco is at the Harbor Shops complex in Fort Lauderdale, just off the 17th Street Causeway, the restaurant has a pleasant area for dining or drinking outdoors as well. Small palms and bamboo sticks create a tropical feel that somehow shuts out the parking lot. Sometimes I drop by in the afternoon just to sip a Thai iced tea and sit outside at one of the white-tableclothed tables. Coco also has some very nice mellow jazz on Friday and Saturday nights, and often plays recorded jazz on its sound system. I think I’ll head over there for a Thai tea this afternoon – I’m hooked on the place. For more info, call 954-525-3541 or log on to www.cocoasianbistro.com. If you see Mike or Dan, Mimi, Pon or Putu, tell them Bob says hello.
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
Mar 14: Renaissance Man
It’s not often you get to hear two people play Londonderry Air on glass harmonicas. Or see five kids swaying on top of a 20-foot rocking horse. Or eat a turkey leg nearly the size of your forearm. I did all three on Sunday afternoon, the last day of this year’s Florida Renaissance Festival. True, you won’t be able to go there yourself until next year. But you can enjoy reading about the experience for now – and maybe get psyched for the many other festivals coming up in the weeks ahead. The weather this whole weekend was great. The sky was clear, the sunshine intense, the humidity low. To me, March and April usually have some of the year’s best weather in South Florida. So far, March is holding to form.
The combination of great weather and a popular event brought out the crowds to Quiet Waters Park in Deerfield Beach, where the festival is held. As a result, getting to the Renaissance grounds took some patience. But once I was there, a strange world of the past appeared. The first thing I saw was a 10-foot tall jester – stilts of course. Everyone who performed or worked there in any way was dressed in period clothes – flowing peasant skirts, puffy sleeved shirts, bodices, the whole Leonardo da Vinci look. That gets your attention. After the jester, I walked past the giant rocking horse, which was powered by a fellow who stood on the horse’s side and shifted his weight. The glass harmonica players I heard later were delightful, swirling their fingers with genuine musicianship around a series of water-filled glasses. And the turkey I ate, sometime between the horse and the harmonicas, was very tasty. A nice smokiness and so much meat I couldn’t even finish it.
I was surprised at how impressively big the Renaissance festival has become, spreading over a much larger area than when I last attended the event several years ago at another park. There seems a greater variety of things to do, see, taste, hear. I think the same is true of many of the large festivals in and around Fort Lauderdale these days. But part of what makes the Florida Renaissance Festival different is the length of its run: five weekends worth of fair maids and jousting knights. It also attracts a very casual, relaxed, family crowd, judging by what I saw on Sunday. It was a fun day for me. And that rocking horse, wow. That thing really looked like fun. Sometimes it’s hard not to be a kid anymore.
Monday, March 12, 2007
Mar 12: The Domino Effect
There’s dominos. Then there’s DOMINOS. There’s the kids game that many of us played in our misspent youths, when we usually just set up the darned little tiles only to whack them down again in toppling clappety-clap rows. Then there’s the serious game as it’s played in the islands. Seriously, mon. As the new home for many people from the Caribbean (where dominos is practically the national pastime, places like Jamaica and Haiti), Broward County has more than its fair share of intense domino players. The trick is finding them and getting them to let you watch. Well, folks, do I have a tip for you!
For months, I’ve been catching the fierce dominos of a group of spirited city workers in Fort Lauderdale. I walk by them often when I’m at the beach and today I finally asked if they do this every day at about the same time. They said yes. I told them I’m a writer and would like to tell people about it. They didn’t pelt me with dominos so I figure it’s ok to pass along their time/location info. If you want to watch dominos the way this game should be played, go to Fort Lauderdale’s South Beach parking lot on weekdays at about 11:30 a.m. or so. You’ll notice a walkover from Bahia Mar hotel across A1A to the beach. Under the beachside end of that walkover, there’s a picnic table hidden in the shade. That’s the place.
Today, three enthusiastic fellows from Haiti were in the mix of five or six guys playing. If you’ve never seen island dominos, it’s a hoot. They SLAP down the tiles on the table, just for emphasis. Or to make some kind of so’s-yer-mama statement, I’ve never been sure. They argue and talk all through the game and offer up comments about each other’s skills and probably about each other’s parentage too, for all I know. Creole is among the languages spoken here so you won’t catch every word. But you’ll sure recognize all the fun and passion involved. It’s a small piece of the Caribbean that now has become a small piece of South Florida too. Drop by and watch a game or two sometime. Just don’t ask if they’re going to set up the dominos in rows so you can knock them over. They didn’t pelt me with tiles after learning that I’m a writer, but I feel sure there’s some limit to their patience.
Tuesday, March 06, 2007
Mar 6: Wind and water
On Sunday afternoon, I drove to the Fort Lauderdale beach from my house. Two unusual things impressed me along the way. First, the huge number of cruise ships waiting for passengers in Port Everglades. It was one of those days when at least seven or eight mammoth ships all sat docked at once. The second thing was obvious as soon as I got to the beach. Kitesurfers. Lots of them. Oddly, about the same number as there were cruise ships in port – eight people whipping over the waves on small surfboards at fairly high speeds, pulled as their kites caught the winds. See what I mean? Unusual. And impressive.
The cruise ships were beautiful as seen from the 17th Street bridge, each sparkling and grand in the sunshine, each making Fort Lauderdale their home port this time of year. By late afternoon, they would be filled with eager passengers, most of these folks no doubt escaping to the subtropics from snowy northern places. The kitesurfers were beautiful too. Shaped like colored wings, the kites that pulled the surfers rose into the air maybe 30 feet or so. The kites seemed difficult to control, especially on such a windy day. But every one of the surfers clearly were experienced, skillfully blasting in toward shore and then back out, sometimes far out, hopping among the small whitecaps. It looked like an exhilarating way to spend an afternoon.
And that was when it occurred to me: the cruisers and the surfers had something in common. And so did all the people on the crowded beachfront. Fort Lauderdale had provided every one of them with just the thing they wanted most to do on this Sunday, whether that was a voyage to exotic islands or an adventure with the wind or a lazy day on the sand. This community seemed a vast playground to me at that moment, offering a spectrum of activities for many different types of visitors with many different interests. People come here from all over for their own brand of getaway, some briefly before a cruise, some for a week of water sports. Still others come as snowbirds for months at a time. It was enough to make one local resident smile on a sunny Sunday.
Friday, March 02, 2007
Mar 2: A Perfect Drive, Part Two
The perfect drive in my convertible last Saturday night up A1A had started at Fort Lauderdale in the early twilight. I had lingered so long on my way that it was night now and I only had made Pompano Beach. By the time I reached the Hillsboro Inlet, the drawbridge was up. I waited patiently like everyone else, watching people on bicycles scoot by. Here, just as all the way north to this point, joggers were out too, savoring the weather. Once the bridge was down, I rolled past the lighthouse that’s just to the east and motored slowly – as slowly as I could drive without holding up traffic. In the Hillsboro Beach area, the road becomes a narrow, winding two-lane strip of pavement. I especially enjoy this section, with its stands of natural vegetation and huge homes tucked near the road.
Mansions, really, not simply homes. They sit perched atop little driveways, looking out at the Intracoastal Waterway. On the other side of the water, other mansions just as large look back at them. I found a small parking lot along this strip of road, a place where yacht owners leave their big automobiles. I parked there too for quite a while, my car’s top still down, and that was when I noticed it. The night sky was as crystalline as I can recall here in some time, so clear that I could see constellations of stars despite the city lights. A half moon seemed to hover directly over my car as thick clouds passed over before wafting away into the evening. The air temperature still was 72 degrees but it felt a bit cooler than that. It felt ideal, actually.
Finally, and reluctantly, I pulled back onto A1A to head toward the beach. I was supposed to be somewhere at 8 p.m., but I had some time left to continue my northward drive. The highway becomes four lanes once more in Deerfield Beach and I passed Hillsboro Boulevard, making the bend to the east and then going straight toward the pier. All along the way, people were filling the restaurants or wandering past the row of beach shops. I drove by the pier and now, for the first time since leaving 17th Street, I was going south, looking for a parking space along the beach. I found one and pulled in and looked out at the moonlit sea, waves rolling ashore. Here too it was a busy night, friends and lovers sharing the fresh ocean air. I sat watching everyone and looking up again at the moon and the stars. It had been a memorable drive up A1A. I was sorry it had to end.
|
 |
RSS
