is spinning too many plates. It's end of year for Spanish accounts, end of quarter for UK VAT and everybody wants stuff written by yesterday.

is reviewing my Florida photographs and trying to whittle down hundreds to a shortlist of just 50. Not easy. Just as well I edited from thousands as I went.

has just uploaded his final blog and photos on 'Hidden Florida'.
Words at: http://ping.fm/HOrnQ
Photos at: http://ping.fm/EfeFM

Hidden Florida - Final thoughts

Mijas Costa, Spain

Friday 13 March 9pm

This morning I wake up at 0915, after over nine hours sleep. I feel remarkably normal, despite having left Miami less than 24 hours ago.

I was genuinely sad having to leave the Desoto Oceanview Inn in Hollywood.

It was far from being the most salubrious of my accommodations, but my living area was scrupulously clean, extremely comfortable, equipped with everything I could possibly need, it was delightfully peaceful and Steve was the most perfect and welcoming host.

The transit from Hollywood to Miami airport was remarkably stress-free. The Highway was very busy, the Hertz drop-off was speedy and easy, AnneMarie at BA’s fast bag drop was lovely, the security staff were really chatty, friendly and courteous and Miami Airport was not at all the dreadful place it is purported to be. Having said that, the local advice is to choose Fort Lauderdale, if you can.

The only slight hiccup was that there’d been a crash on the Interstate and, while the passengers were all at the airport, the crew wasn’t! We boarded an hour late and I joked about it with Bruce Harris, the Cabin Services Director. His quip that‘they couldn’t leave their hotel until the end of the Manchester United game’, had a bit of a ring of truth to it. Methinks the crew had maybe left their timings just a bit tight.

I’d managed to get the same seat back as my outward leg, 61A on the 747 upper deck. The crew were rather more polite about opening and closing the privacy screen between myself and my next door neighbour than on the way out. But I do not like the layout of BA’s much vaunted Club World and I would HATE to be the person on the outer seat, over which all the drinks and food has to be passed to the person travelling in the opposite direction at the window. (They alternate the seating forward and rear-facing, in case you are confused!)

Dinner was unremarkable, but I very much enjoyed ‘Slumdog Millionaire’, although it’s a pretty gritty film in parts. After a pretty solid three hours sleep, I managed ‘Quantum of Solace’ before an interminable hold over Heathrow and arrival just after 7am.

Having been impressed with Terminal Five outbound, I discovered absolute lunacy on my return. As a transiting passenger, connecting to another international flight, I had to join throngs of completely unscreened folk flying on domestic routes to go through security again. It’s completely balmy. One BA staff member told me it was because the BAA security requirements were stricter than that in the US. I simply do not believe it.

Getting through it was a nightmare, folk were missing their flights to Glasgow, Edinburgh, Manchester and who knows where, while, in fast track, one Asian gentleman with an impressive beard was taking an age to hand search every single passenger. One Edinburgh-bound man was so angry he demanded to see the supervisor who did precisely nothing. There were too many passengers and not enough security staff. (They obviously don’t realise that 0730 in the morning is one of the busiest times of the day). Why, oh why, transit passengers are not kept airside just beggars belief. It’s barking, completely barking, BAA.

All I wanted was a shower and, once I got there, the Terraces facility was adequate without being nearly as lavish as many others I have seen around the world. There was no wireless internet working in either the north or south lounges and, as I was there for nearly five hours, it was a pretty poor show that somebody couldn’t be found to re-set the router in all that time. Many folk were asking, but BA is pretty slow about that sort of thing. I am sure anyone with a home wireless internet set up could have sorted it in five minutes! The south lounge was a lot quieter than its’ northern equivalent, so I’ll know the next time to head there straight away.

The flight to Malaga was delayed for nearly an hour while an engineer could be found to provide a written authorisation to fly with a bit of the aircraft not working. As this was a pre-existing problem, it was not a hugely impressive performance. The Airbus seating was not properly configured for Club Europe, with the normal rear cabin 3 x 3 seats throughout, with an empty one in between for the business cabin. Why? Because they save money and time by not changing the seats to the ones they advertise. Breach of contract? They’ll have something in the small print for sure.

I didn’t want to sleep, so I chatted to the Cabin Crew before take off and was just about to get wired into a crew cup of tea when the engineer arrived with the much-delayed piece of paper. But Cathleen, a delightfully smiley and chirpy hostie, told me I could go back to my seat with it while they prepared the cabin for take off. Judging by the number of other off-duty BA staff on the aircraft who were also chatting to the crew, I wonder how the revenue management graph looked?

In Club Europe, a really tasty beef casserole was served, in proper china dishes and real cutlery. But I do think the decanting into the dish from the microwaveable container should have been done in the galley and not the aisle. When later I found Cathy sitting behind her curtain tucking into the chicken alternative, I told her that the beef had actually been better than the food on the Miami London flight. ‘Yes’, she said, ‘I wanted to try that, but there was none left.’

The Alps were spectacularly bathed in sunshine and snow and we got to Malaga, where the massive new terminal is nearing completion, an hour late. No further apology for the delay from the flight deck, who’d been remarkably uncommunicative throughout the flight.

So, what of ‘Hidden Florida’?

For sure, I found some lovely spots, met some wonderful people and have a wealth of material and photographs on which to work over the next few weeks. As Denise Arencibia, the director of Latin America for Visit Florida, said to me in a final email ‘You have been to parts of the State that many Floridians haven’t been’.

I think the single biggest ‘discovery’ is the network of State and County Parks, many of whom I visited and some of which offered the most impressive beaches and scenery of any place I went to see. Fort de Soto and Caladesi in St. Pete’s/Clearwater, Historic Spanish Point in Osprey and the Randell Research Centre in Pine Island especially worked for me.

Apalachicola was very special indeed and I was reminded of it only this morning as I spread some of their very special Tupelo Honey, a gift from Chamber Director Anita Grove, on my first Spanish breakfast toast in a month. I also have Susan’s ‘Lemon Love’ from Key West to enjoy – but I am keeping that only for Sundays!

Key West was not at all what I expected. I am told it’s calmed down a lot since the wild days of the 70’s and 80’s, but there IS still a perception that it’s all drag queens and gay orgies and it’s not at all like that. (Well, maybe if you go to certain parts, it might still be). I was especially lucky in that I met some very lovely folk who turned my planned itinerary on its head and made it work for me. Just as well, the official itinerary had been planned, it appeared, by committee and was not very well co-ordinated.

Some of the accommodation was truly wonderful and the mix from small inns and motels to exclusive apartments and wonderful villas proves that there really is something in Florida to suit every taste and budget. It’s impossible to select a favourite, but the Coombes House Inn in Apalachicola, the Moorings Village in Islamorada, the Inn on Fifth in Naples, the Pasa Tiempo in St. Pete’s, The Sun and Moon Inn in Matlacha and the Desoto OceanView Inn in Hollywood are among the ones to which I would, one day, want to return? Why? Because they each had an individual personality and an ethos of their staff trying to do their very best to make their guests feel especially welcome. I am sure there were others in that bracket and I apologise if I have left somebody out.

My favourite places to go? Away from the State and County Parks which were universally outstanding, the Ringling Circus Museum in Sarasota, the Edison and Ford Winter homes complex in Fort Myers and the Naval Aviation Museum in Pensacola were among my favourites. Interestingly, as I review this month-long trip, I realise that the vast majority of the places I have ‘mentioned in despatches’, did not appear on the official itinerary.

Despite a large circulation and wide readership of this blog, the very first page of which was designed to give a very clear brief to everyone involved in the planning of the trip, I was surprised and very disappointed at the three or four Tourist Offices which were completely off message and could not deliver anything other than their standard package.

If they don’t have the budget or resources, why do they accept a journalist with a very clear brief, if they haven’t a chance to deliver the required story?

Undoubtedly Florida is blessed with the most wonderful climate, outstanding beaches and stunning (if rather flat!) scenery. The bits I’ll remember the most were the very special, almost secret, tips given to me by local people.

There IS a Hidden Florida, eons away from the hype and the hassle of the major attractions. But it takes some finding and the locals are, by far, the best people to tell you where to go.

Having met just seven in the whole month, just don’t expect them to be native Floridians!

is at Miami airport waiting for the BA206 flight to London. But the crew has been stuck in traffic and it looks like we will be an hour late departing. Let's hope he puts the foot down overnight. The good news is that, having come to Florida a month ago with just one suitcase, I now have three, and they are all checked through to Malaga. Hurrah!

has whizzed around Fort Lauderdale and Hollywood. Now there are lots of bags to pack - two more than I brought!
Words at

http://ping.fm/HOrnQ

Pictures at

http://ping.fm/EfeFM

Final day in Hollywood and Fort Lauderdale

Wednesday 11 March
Desoto Ocean View Inn

I've been expecting various packages to be couriered over with maps and other information, but still not a sausage.
But Steve at the Desoto has taken charge of things and, in the absence of any information from the Hollywood Tourism people, has sorted out a few things. He appears at my door just as I am finishing off breakfast, saying he is going to Fort Lauderdale to pick up some maps and other information from the tourist office and will be back in about 30 minutes.
But, after the frustrations of yesterday, I am anxious to get as much out of the day as I possibly can and set off shortly afterwards by car to find the Greater Fort Lauderdale Convention and Visitors Bureau.
I was last in Fort Lauderdale with the Navy over 30 years ago and, to be frank, I don't recognise a thing. I'm impressed with the centre though. Some really good modern architecture and nice, wide, boulevards. Not so impressive, really, is the driving. It's probably the first time in a month that I am driving through a town centre on my own. It's mad, completely mad. I can't get over how they switch lanes with no warning at all, with a mobile phone clamped to one ear and a coffee mug or soft drink in the other hand. Completely bonkers! Mind you, I once passed an American driving test which involved me driving round one block, parking back in the space I had left and showing the examiner where the lights and indicators were. While she was testing me, she was also assessing a motorcyclist behind. So if that is the standard of the test, it's no wonder they drive so badly.
Finding the office is easy and I am greeted by Kim Canter, the Visitor Bureau's Public Relations Coordinator. She appears somewhat bemused that her colleagues in Hollywood have not been in touch before they left town. But she clearly knows her craft and I am provided with the wherewithal to get around.
I stop off at the local Borders Bookshop to buy a few CD's, including that of the Public Television Concert I have been watching over the past three nights. I always love visiting Borders, what they do, they do wonderfully well. They all have coffee shops, but this one has a terrace overlooking a pretty canal as well as its' own butterfly garden. How cool is that?
There's a bit of a flood in the gents and I am impressed at the speed at which the radio-connected assistant at the coffee shop summonses assistance and someone is there within minutes to sort out the problem.
I skim through the wealth of information I have just picked up and make a plan of action for my day.
First port of call is to the Bonnet House Museum and Gardens. This is a very stylish property built between 1920 and 1940 for Frederick Clay Bartlett, an artist from Chicago. I can't stay long, with all the delays of yesterday, I need to try and get round a few things to get an impression of the city.
The lady at the cash desk is not entirely sure what to do with the VIP Visitor Pass that Kim has provided, but when I explain my mission, attaches a blue wristband to me and introduces me to volunteer Lynda Stackhouse. Lynda is great. She gives me a self-guided tour, tells me the best bits to see and sets me off on my way.
The 35 acres of grounds are gorgeous and there's a lot to see. Although we are right beside the busy waterfront road, the gardens are just a delight.
My self-guided tour propels me towards the house itself and I walk through an open gate into an utterly charming courtyard. At which point I am challenged, somewhat brusquely, by a man, whose badge announces him to be Paul Powell, volunteer. I am asked what I am doing. I explain, only to be told that I have the wrong wristband to be allowed to take photos of the courtyard. I need to be escorted, which will take 90 minutes and will not start for nearly an hour. I have been given the name of the curator, Stephen Draft, who duly arrives. But Stephen is totally unimpressed with my VIP Visitor card and my request to visit a couple of rooms. 'It's a tour or nothing, no photography allowed. That's the way we have always done things'.
He does, however, tell me that the best view of the house is to be had from the beachfront side and I walk around to get the one shot I need.
But the view is completely spoilt by a ghastly tent in front of the house, presumably for weddings and suchlike. Classic picture opportunity, this is not.
I'm hugely disappointed. There doesn't seem to be a lot of 'Hidden Florida' around and Bonnet House had the possibility of becoming the centrepiece of my feature of the area. Maybe I'll send them one of my 'Handling the Media' leaflets. Their inflexible and obstructive attitude reminds me so much how British Business dealt with the media during industrial disputes in the 1970's
At the gate, the ever-friendly Lynda is helping someone move a lady in a wheelchair into a car. It's quite a strange situation, almost as if the woman has never done this before. The poor soul in the wheelchair is slumped and uncommunicative. I feel very sorry for her.
I ask Lynda where to go for a bite of lunch and she advises a place called 'California Burgers and Shakes', just a few blocks away.
I'm just completing my order when the wheelchair-bound lady appears with not one, but two helpers. They've obviously overheard my conversation with Lynda and followed me here. But the previously slumped and uncommunicative wheelchair-bound woman is now totally compus mentis. Very odd.
Rob and Brian have been running their business, 'across from the Galleria Mall at the 7-11 plaza' for six months and their formula clearly works. Tall and friendly Brian seems to be the front of house man, while the quieter Rob beavers away flaming the burgers and making the shakes. With the exception of places like Zaks, we don't generally have a good reputation for burgers in the UK, so this is only the second one I have had in almost a month in Florida.
But this is sensational. It actually tastes like real meat and I am assured that it is. Great recommendation and I look forward to seeing a whole chain of them in a few years. But their graphic designer is dyslexic. The card says they are ARCOSS from the Galleria Mall'.
Fort Lauderdale is very much a city on the water, with the Intracoastal waterway, rivers and canals, as well as the sea. So much so, that the marketing people promote the 'Venice of America'. For sure, they have not been to Venice, because apart from the water, I can see no similarities at all. Apart from anything, when it's hot the canals in Venice stink and these do not. But it's a really nice way to get around.
We are told that 'Crew members are permitted to accept gratuities'. I hope that nobody from National Express takes the culture back home. Imagine!
I hoped to fit the Stranahan House Museum into my day, but time is short and my 'Never Lost' can't seem to locate 335 SE 6th Avenue. But, in any case, rush hour is building and I need to get back to do my online check in for my flight back to London and to grab the best available seat. Back at the inn, the information from Hollywood Tourism has arrived.
There's a superb full moon shining brightly across the Atlantic Ocean just a few steps from my room at the Desoto Oceanview Inn. I clamber up the ramp to the lifeguard hut to set up my little tripod to take some pictures. Three local youngsters are already there and, in the way of the confidence inbred in most young Americans are soon chatting away. Rafael is studying to be a paramedic, Samantha to be a veterinary assistant, while Sarah is still at school. In four weeks, I have only met four 'indiginous Floridians'. Now, I have numbers 5, 6 and 7!
Steve is tied up with some family business, so Josias kindly agrees to join me for my 'last supper'. W have a couple of places we thought we'd like to try. First port of call is Morton's, a nationwide chain. We decline the 'valet parking' and I am asked to give my name so it can be entered into a computer at the front desk
This is apparently so our server can be very polite and call the guest by their proper name. Unfortunately, he assumes Josias is me, which rather defeats the object. He brings a wine list, then suggests some cocktails we might enjoy. If the computer is psychic, it's clearly broken, because Bombay Sapphire and tonic is not mentioned.
It's at the point we ask for the menu, to be told that there are none, but instead we will be given a 'verbal presentation'. Josias looks at me and I at him and we decide it's all too much. We just want a decent steak, not all this pretentious nonsense.
J. Alexander's looks much more like the thing. Apart from six serving staff appearing to be having a noisy staff meeting immediately behind our table and who seem unimpressed at us asking them to move, the meal and service is excellent.
There's an unusual, but tasty, combo of spinach and cheese and spicy 'Pico de gallo', dips with tortilla chips, a truly excellent Caesar salad and the best New York strip steak I have had in a month's trip.
My bed is like a packing station, so there's a fair bit of sorting to do to clamber into it. I barely hear the headlines of today's BBC News pod, before I am fast asleep.