I drove to a Nicaraguan tortilleria just blocks from my home and across the street from Riverside Park (on SW 8th Ave.). I figured it would take me less than a minute to pick up the tortillas and then get on I-95.
Before I walked into the store, I noticed that the old fellas who like to watch the baseball and soccer games in the park had already gathered on their benches. One man was handing out shots of Cuban coffee to others. Such a classic local ritual.
Yeah, picking up the tortillas took no time at all. The short, compact lady at the store handed me a plastic bag filled with the ten fresh and handmade tortillas, still steaming hot from the griddle and made Nica style: much thicker than the Mexican corn tortilla, and larger in size than the traditional Salvadoran variety. Cost? $2.
A Nica man in his thirties or so sat at a table outside feasting on a large, hearty breakfast; really, it looked like lunch! Then an African-American man approached the store's cafeteria window and asked for a coffee in Spanish, which was obviously not his first language. The lady who was assisting me at the store brightened as she noticed my interest and appreciation for her homestyle goods. She offered me a cafecito, on the house.
I asked her what her store was called, and she paused for a long while. She said it was the store on the corner of 4th and 8th. Perhaps locals just think of her place as "The-Spot-Where-They-Sell-Good-Tortillas-and-ChocoBananas-on-the-Corner-of-4th-&-8th." But in Spanish, of course.
The African-American customer introduced himself and said his name was Louis, and that he'd grown up in Little Havana, near the park. He'd just recently moved back after a long absence, and worked as a cook in a soul food restaurant in North Miami. He was eager to share stories about the neighborhood of his childhood. Many people, I've discovered, love to tell stories about the neighborhood.
We exchanged information and I jumped in my car, on to my breakfast with friends. They loved the tortillas, and one of my friends, who is Honduran, said he was excited to bring the leftover tortillas home to his wife, who just recently moved here from Honduras. "These will remind her of home," he said.
Read more about local bodegas, cafeterias and bodegas.
Little Havana Tours for Canadians
Later that morning, I gave a tour of Little Havana to two tourists from Canada. It's funny -- an article was printed recently in the Vancouver Sun about a tour I gave at least a year and a half ago. The article is full of outrageous errors, because the writer mixed her description of two tours: one of South Beach and one of Little Havana, making it seem like one tour. She even described the tour as going to El Palacio de los Jugos. What? That place isn't even in Little Havana or South Beach!
The article has been syndicated and is being read by a lot Canadians, because lately I've had a lot of Canadians calling me for tours. So I guess I'm not so mad at the Canadian journalist anymore.
Read more about my tours.
Rum Tasting, Little Havana Style
The group of three tourists, two men and one woman, immediately headed for the bar. One man was peering up towards ... aha, he likes rum, I thought. His eyes were riveted on the section of the bar where Roberto (the owner) keeps his many bottles of fine rum. This visitor was in for a treat.
When Roberto's employee returned, I told her that the visitors were interested in the rum. They asked for a taste of one of the brands. Then Roberto walked back behind the bar, and I explained to him that rum enthusiasts had arrived, which I knew would please him to no end.
As I explained -- in English -- to the tourists, Roberto is a rum collector. The bottles he keeps at Cubaocho are but one portion of his collection. And he loves to talk about rum. So in his broken English, he entertained the visitors, who were from Orange County, California, by bringing down bottle after bottle of rum brands, some of which they had not seen before. Every rum had its own story.
The man with the interest in rum had many of the same brands as Roberto, too, and some that were missing from Roberto's collection. "Oh yes, that one is excellent," said the visitor, taking a sip. Sometimes he'd lift the bottle up and take a photo of it to remember the name.
Roberto and the visitors would nod and share opinions and I enjoyed witnessing it all. This, too -- like the sharing of coffee in the morning -- was a Little Havana ritual.
Walking at Night to 12th & 6th
I wasn't feeling well by the time the evening arrived. And as I write this, I still struggle with a bit of a chest cold. But I knew I could not miss the opening of a new exhibition space at the 12th & 6th Arts District. The 6th Street Dance Studio would be open, with its free hip-hop class for kids, and the 6th Street Container was also having an avant-garde performance art exhibit.
Even the famed ceramicist Carlos Alves and his partner JC were staying open late and had cleaned up the front of their studio for the first time in many months. I knew I had to say "hi" to Antonio del Moral of Galeria Adelmo, who'd also have his gallery open, and Sandy at her fabulous Sugar Fancies bakery, which she'd just opened this week. I had to go. I had to go.
I forced myself to get up from my bed, where I'd been resting, and walk out the door. This time I decided to walk to 12th, since it was only a few blocks from my apartment. What I should mention is that I decided to walk at night.
I don't normally walk around at night in my neighborhood. But I wanted to do so. Perhaps to prove that it isn't as unsafe as others assume it to be. Please, don't chastise me.
So I pushed my iPhone, keys and business cards in my jeans pockets and started walking, grateful for the plentiful street lamps along my path. I passed a middle-aged woman holding a bouquet of flowers in her hand -- a discount from Valentine's Day, I thought? A couple of guys whistled from their cars when they drove past. Ya-da-da. Big deal.
Music swirled from apartment windows like steam from a big pot of food cooking on the stove. And across the street I could hear someone practicing on congas. Then I reached a corner where local dogs seemed to be having their own conversation from behind fences. Keeping up with neighborhood gossip, I figured.
Arrival at 12th & 6th
Boys and girls as young as five years old or so took turns entering a circle and lunging forward into head or handstands. Now that's brave! I admired how they would keep trying even after their headstand turned into a flop onto the floor. No fear.
Then I stepped downstairs and towards the 6th Street Container, curated by Adalberto Delgado. Across the courtyard, a man stood on a pedestal in a leotard, an angled, mirrored mask framing his face. A floor spotlight focused on him, and nearby, other mirrored walls caught reflections. He stood under a large, sprawling tree which created an even more dramatic, pagan-esque backdrop.
This performer seemed brave, too, standing on a pedestal among a crowd of youngish hipsters, creating his art.
I ventured inside the exhibit space, where a tiny room was shrouded in darkness but lively with dance music and people chatting and drinking. A total contrast. The two spaces were both part of the exhibit ...
While in line, I also met Ray Sullivan, director of the Miami Contemporary Dance Company. He mentioned how excited he was about the company's upcoming performance at 6th Street Dance Studio (where the kids had been practicing their breaks). The studio, run by Brigid Baker, has long been a home to both ground-breaking contemporary dance as well as hip-hop, as well as performances integrating both.
While sipping on my rum, I decided to check out how Carlos "Mosaic Man" Alves and his partner JC had transformed their ceramics studio. Wow! I was impressed ... it was much easier to move around and see the newly cleared front gallery space revealed pieces I'd never noticed before. Where had they been hiding?
I was happy to see people exploring their workspace where they transform discarded ceramic nic-nacs (spelling?) into curious and clever works of art.
Well, now he was bringing to the neighborhood what he thought was missing! I appreciated that the publicity about Ahol's exhibit (including a lot of excited posts on Twitter) had attracted a crowd of hundreds to the interior courtyard of 12th and 6th. And I guessed that many people in the crowd had never visited the area before.
From the courtyard, I noticed that a backdoor of a business was open, and looked inside: it was the Thumbs Up Barbershop, run by Amanda Vargas, who used to work at the famed barbershop La Esquina (formerly Fademasters) on the nearby corner of 12th and Flagler.
I said hello to everyone and then went a couple doors down to Sandy's new cake shop, Sugar Fancies.
Two enthusiastic customers were checking out her cupcakes and ordering coffee. Neither of them had been to the area before, and they loved what they had discovered. Who would have thought to find gourmet, tropical-flavored cakes and sweets and cappuccinos next to a barbershop?
Her store looked like a theater space from the outside, with its large windows facing both 6th Street and 12th Avenue. The store itself -- just like its cakes and cupcakes -- was enticing.
Tacos de Tripas
We chatted for a bit, and one of the guys, named Victor, offered to buy me a taco. I started off with a taco de carne. Very tasty. But still kind of ordinary, considering the other taco options on the menu.
Then the pair urged me to try a taco made with tripe: cow stomach. Ooh noooo, I said. Victor went ahead and ordered me a taco de tripa. It didn't look so bad. I added a few salsa toppings (green and red), a little bit of onion, and then brought the creation to my mouth ...
The flavors melted in my mouth. The tender, richly flavored grilled tripe with the fresh tomato and onion flavors, brought together with the warm corn tortilla ... never again will I be afraid to have a taco de tripas!
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