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!

Flights and Football, St. Pete's Beach, Saturday evening

Damn fractious children. Especially damn them when they are next door in a hotel that has paper for walls. But the bloody thing shut up about 1am. An hour later, I was awakened by revellers returning from Pensacola's Mardi Gras parades. GRRRRRR.
At breakfast, I hand the waitress my voucher for my 'Complimentary full breakfast'. She returns with a bill for nearly nine dollars. Apparently guests are not allowed orange juice, cereal and something hot, despite the fact it's all pictured on the voucher itself.
Pensacola Airport is nice and small, so car return, check in and security is completed with the minimum of fuss.
I am impressed how nice the security experience is. The staff are diligent, but friendly. Quite unlike the jobsworths that seem to have been recruited at most UK airports.
It's mid Saturday morning in the United States and mid afternoon in the UK. So, I thoroughly enjoy the experience of listening to a second half Premiership football commentary at 23,000 feet. I am not aware of any UK airlines that allow you to do the same. Amazing. I even hear the Norwich result.
The Air Tran staff at Atlanta are doing a good sales pitch for the remaining business class seats. They are all snapped up, allowing a few more economy seats to be occupied. The flight to Tampa is full.
There's a lovely view of some offshore islands as we approach the airport, they look superb and I am looking forward very much to seeing them over the next few days.
I scamper to Hertz to collect my car and find myself being allocated a brand new, top of the range, Ford Mercury Sable. When I have collected my bags and set off, I discover that the car even has Sirius satellite radio and I am once again tuned into the BBC World Service.
I am slightly apprehensive as I drive through the rather gaudy main drag in St. Pete's Beach that I am going to be back in Blackpool. But Pasa Tiempo, my 'Private Waterfront Resort' turns out to be absolutely charming. It's adult only with only eight suites. My spacious accommodation has a really comfortable living room, well equipped kitchen, spacious bedroom and nice bathroom. Outside, there are peaceful gardens, endless running fountains and a nice sized pool.
The local tourist board has left a comprehensive brief and press pack, together with a really nice note and goodies including a beach towel and a little rucsac. Obviously St. Pete's and Clearwater has a big budget!
In the evening in the Pasa Tiempo, there are lit candles everywhere, complimentary liqueurs, snacks and coffee.
I set off to see the sunset over the Gulf of Mexico and watch a young heron enjoying the spectacle. Shortly afterwards, a fisherman gives the bird a fish, only for it to be stolen moments later by an older bird.
I stock up with some provisions and manage to do my laundry back at the Pasa Tiempo. A quiet night in tonight, tomorrow's explorations look like being quite demanding.
Bizarrely, when I switch on the TV, the chanel it's on is showing nothing but old BBC repeats. Are You Being Served, Keeping up Appearances and To the Manor Born.
Somehow, surrounded by comfy floral patterned settees and armchairs, it seems absolutely right.

FIVE MILE HIGH CLUB

I am at 36000 feet, flying at 566 miles an hour above St. John's in Newfoundland. Even better, I have had a couple of hours kip.
This morning's journey from the Grosvenor House Hotel to Terminal 5 was an absolute dream. Clearly, Sunday morning is the time to do it!
I have the First Class compartment of the excellent Heathrow Express all to myself. reflect on the ghastly journey of yesteryear on the Piccadilly Line underground. But of course the speed and the comfort comes at a price. A return journey 'Express Class' is £32, with First a whopping £50. Great if someone else is paying!
It's my first sight of Terminal 5, which really is most impressive. Lifts glide up and down totally automatically, so the journey to check in from the train is very easy. I've been checked in on-line, so I take my bag to 'Fast Drop' and am through security at record speed and with the minimum of stress. Marvellous!
I have, in fact, saved so much time, that I pop in to have my iris scanned. In theory, when I return to the UK, I just look into a machine, it recognises me, and the door to the Promised Land, sorry Brown's Britain, will open to grant me access.
But I am so short-sighted, that I have trouble lining up my eyes with the requisite green dots. In fact, I can hardly see the wretched things. But the girl is very patient, teaches me how to open my eyes wide and make the technology work. We will see in a month whether it does!
I do not realise that a whole section of gates at the new terminal are a transit train ride away, a fact worth bearing in mind if you are travelling British Airways from Heathrow. Terminal 5 is massive.
There's time to stop off to see the new Terraces lounge, which is pretty impressive and, hurrah, now has free wifi internet access, which was not the case before BA moved.
My friend Alan managed to do my online check-in while I was in mid air on my way to London and secured my preferred seat on the jumbo's upper deck. It's the first time since I flew with the RAF from Singapore to the UK in 1971 that I have flown backwards. I am not sure I like the configuration, which has you facing a complete stranger about two feet away. Rather too close for my comfort, But after take off, a 'privacy panel' can be raised, which improves things a lot. The tranquillity of my own little eyrie is only spoiled when, during the dinner service, the Cabin Services Director suddenly lowers the screen to pass through my dinner. He assures me it's the way they do things, but his staff have served me from the front. If his way is what BA teaches staff to do, I think it's a pretty rude way of doing things.
Apart from that, the journey passes very pleasantly and I devour more papers and magazines in a nine-hour period than I generally read in a month. There's literally hundreds of on demand CD's, films, games and so on, but there all surplus to my requirements.
Afternoon tea will arrive shortly, Bangor, Maine, is off to starboard and the delights of U.S. Homeland Security awaits in a shade over three hours.

Flying and Five Star

Sunday 15 February, London

I have had about three hours sleep. I have overnighted in one of London’s leading hotels in a suite that would have cost me £500, had I paid. Just for the room. The air conditioning was horribly noisy. Thrum, thrum, thrum. I pressed every button there was to slow down the fan, lower the temperature, or just TURN THE BLOODY THING OFF. To no avail.
The king sized bed was extremely comfortable with crisply starched linen and more pillows on the one bed than I have at home. But thrum bloody thrum.
It wasn’t helped by the fact that the only way to listen to the radio at bedtime, was to put on one of the televisions. But I giant beacon remained on the screen. HOTEL RADIO. I listened to Radio Four’s Book at Bedtime under a bloody searchlight.
But I am getting rather ahead of myself.
The Iberia check in girl at Malaga airport could see that I had been granted an extra luggage allowance, but she was being bureaucratically Spanish at her pernickety best. Luckily, I stood my ground and all was well in the end.
At security, OH how I love security at airports, I was dressing myself when an American woman was pleading not to have her very expensive looking manicure set thrown away. VERY expensive looking. Quite why the stupid woman was bringing it through security beggars belief. But the show made me forget my watch and it took the intervention of an elderly Guardia Civil officer a couple of minutes later to retrieve it.
Why is it that people with walking sticks wear trainers? I ask that, because Monarch’s plane to Luton is full to the brim with such folk. Several of them in football tops. There are more wheelchair passengers than I have ever seen on an aircraft. While I have every support and sympathy for people with disabilities, I cannot understand why airlines insist on totally clogging up the aisles with a few people needing assistance while 200 others wait?
On the day when a 13 year old father is in the news, the majority of the cabin crew don’t look all that much older. One passenger buys an exclusive Monarch Airlines Barbie doll, which seems highly appropriate. I am fascinated that one of the girls has hair which drops down straight to her collar, then projects horizontally for several inches. How does that work?
I enjoy a brandy and dry ginger for which I pay £4 and am looking forward to my hot lunch. But, by the time the trolley has reached row 8, they have run out. ‘People seem to be hungry today’ said one of the Barbie Dolls. Not surprising really, seeing as it is a lunchtime departure!
The sausage and mash looks horrible, but actually tasts very nice. The apple crumble is nothing like my mum’s, of course, but a tasty bit of Croxton cheddar rounded things off. Not bad for £6.
Fast ticket collection at Luton Airport Parkway station was anything but. My code was not being accepted. Had I just paid, I would not have missed the fast train to St. Pancras. The man at the station tells me it’s a common occurrence. Mr. Trainline dot com will be having a Soutergram!
I am looking forward to my night in the capital. I have been lucky to have stayed in many of the world’s leading hotels, but never in the Grosvenor House, just off Park Lane. It’s being refurbished and rebranded and every time you say GH, you have to add A JW Marriott Hotel. Branding is something that I know rather a lot about. But this is bonkers. Who cares a toss? Some overpaid advertising geek who should have been told to get back in his or her box. It’s everywhere. GRRRRR.
I am surprised that they have changed my booking for afternoon tea, especially as they know I am expecting a journalist friend, Adrian Finighan, who I knew from my broadcasting days in Norfolk and Suffolk and who is now the main London anchor for CNN.
But I have been upgraded to a suite. It’s so big that it almost needs a map to help me find my way around. Very nicely furnished.
Someone called Vicki Richards has left me a ‘Dear Mike’ note, welcoming me to the hotel. She turns out, according to reception, to be the sales and marketing director, but I don’t know her, have never met her and I am a bit unimpressed by the informal approach. Especially in a leading hotel.
My laptop connects easily to the £20 a day broadband connection and I read a note from Adrian who has been called away to Barcelona, so he is busy ironing his TV presenter’s shirt. It’s the first time I have ever been stood up on St. Valentine’s Day. Mind you, I am not sure I have ever before had an afternoon assignation on February 14!
Because of the romantic nature of the day, the hotel is full and so are the restaurants. But they have kindly offered me afternoon tea in the Park Room. The blurb paints a picture of a lovely view across to Hyde Park, but, in reality, it’s constant traffic and vibration.
There’s a hiatus when I point out that my champagne glass has been used, which sends a series of folk to the table to apologise. Carlos, who’s from Portugal, but who was brought up in Germany, a Portuguese girl from guest relations, Sandro the Italian F and B manager and Samuel, the poor Irish lad whose fault it was. All I wanted to do was tuck into my £28.50 feast with my ‘Grosvenor House a JW Marriott Hotel’Royal Blend’ of Assam and Ceylon tea. Plus 12.5% discretionary service charge.
Scrumptious sandwiches, wonderful scones with comb honey or strawberry jam with clotted cream and excellent pastries. A very talented pianist playing all my favourites from Gershwin to Lloyd Webber. Adrian, you missed a treat!
Carlos shows me the lunch menu. May I recommend 30g of Beluga caviar for £155, the gin for £9.25, tonic extra and, especially, a bottle of Quinta do Noval 1931 port. A snip at £1295. No decimal point. Not anywhere. Plus, of course, a 12.5% discretionary service charge. I am sure they’d accept £100.
Later in the evening, in my suite, I search for my advertised ‘complimentary coffee and tea’, only to be told that, ‘owing to the refurbishment, not all rooms have it yet’. But a tray duly arrives. Neither the man who brought it, nor I, could find a plug for the kettle. He left me searching. I still am. Oh there ARE plugs. Just that you either have to unplug the television or the telephone or hold the kettle in mid air as it boils.
The shortage of sockets is indeed acute. I spend the evening swapping my mobile phone, camera battery charger, iPod dock et al in the bathroom shaver socket.
Luckily, a pot of early morning tea can be delivered. £5.60 for that. But my Sunday Times, supposedly to be delivered at the same time, has failed to materialise.
Attention to detail. There’s a lot the branding people could learn from the Taj.

Postcript

Delightful as the setting is for my £26.50 breakfast, heads will roll over the stone cold black pudding on the buffet. Not that I can ever support cafeteria style messing in hotels of this quality and cost. Luckily the hotel's George McIntosh, a fellow Scot, is well aware of the problems that can be caused by the potential for bacteria to lurk. Especially in blood products. On that happy note, to Heathrow and British Airways, the only company that I know for sure has given me a nasty dose of food poisoning. Which resulted in a stay in Ruchill Hospital in Glasgow with suspected cholera. But that is 30 years ago.....

PLANNING AND PACKING

Three more sleeps before departure, so my bags are almost packed, or at least I have decided what needs to be in them. I am always prone to taking far too much of everything, so I have been pretty ruthless about reducing the load. But the travel kettle HAS to be included and it’s amazing just how much paraphernalia needs to be taken just to ensure that I have the wherewithal to have a decent cup of tea on my travels.

Some years ago, I took the lead from a much-travelled friend who has what he calls his ‘running away bag’. There are huge advantages to be able to just pick that up, knowing that everything a man could possible require en-route has been pre-sorted.

At least, that’s the theory.

For a start, I’ll be travelling on three different airlines within a 48 hour period, all of whom have different regulations about what is permitted in their cabin. To avoid any doubt, and also the potential that my checked in luggage won’t arrive at the same time and place as me, I will carry on board all essentials for at least 3 days. But one airline will allow that case to be 10KG, one 23KG and one seems to tell me that, ‘as long as I can lift it without assistance’, then that’s fine.

Well I can, but only just.

I’ve just turned down a lunch appointment, despite the fact that it’s gloriously sunny outside and I really do need a break from the fairly intense planning I have now being doing over the past three weeks.

But various computer systems are not allowing me to do what should take me moments and I feel the stress levels mounting. Oh how I long for those days when you simply turned up and took off!

On my last trip to the States, I had such a grilling from the man at the immigration desk that I vowed never to return. I felt especially aggrieved that I was there as a Naval Reserve Officer, had a multiple entry Visa and was being treated like the dirt on the smarmy shoes he no doubt was wearing.

Now, you have to fill up a special form online before you travel, which allows you to fly but not necessarily to get in. The link from British Airways to the Department of Homeland Security seems to have been broken for the past 48 hours and even BA can’t update the fact I’m not now staying at the hotel I originally entered into the system. Clearly I am an alien and, Santa Claus having brought me the entire series of the X Files, I am almost beginning to believe.

I have not so far been hugely impressed with BA, especially their new rules regarding seat allocation. While I can pre-book my seat at the time of reservation on almost any other airline anywhere in the world, unless I have a BA Platinum or Gold card, I can’t now choose my seat until 24 hours before the flight. Before you ask, I’m flying in the Club World cabin. But I expect that, in an attempt to win friends, the same rules now apply to First Class, as well.

I was planning to ask a friend to book my seat, as I’ll be in mid-air en route to London when online seat allocation opens, but the lady in the call centre was unable to access the Business Class cabin plan when I called, so I will probably end up near the toilet or the galley.

I’m highly unamused, but it’s best not to complain too much as the company is largely funding the trip.

.

I have been surrounded by guide books and maps for about a fortnight. I am not a slave to what they say but, as a contributor to several, I do like to compare notes. Unusually, I am without my Rough Guide as the Spanish distributor has run out and I won’t actually take delivery of my copy until I arrive in London.

But Lonely Planet and the Insight Guide and map have been very useful indeed in putting everything into context. Mind you, the very glossy Insight Guide alone weighs nearly a kilogram and its’ bulk may mean it becomes a casualty of the swingeing cuts I am making to my luggage.

The guides bring me up with a bit of a jolt. I had no real idea that Florida was quite so big and diverse. Early on, I’ll almost be within touching distance of New Orleans, for heavens’ sake! I’ve visited the Sunshine State several times, but not criss-crossed it as I will be doing over the next month.

One book I will be leaving at home is the excellent Bradt guide to USA by rail. I SO wanted to get about by Amtrak. But, despite a flurry of emails to both Amtrak and their main sales agent, I have had no joy in adding any rail to my itinerary.

Most disappointing.