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!

Final Two nights in Hollywood, Florida

The DeSoto Oceanview Inn
Hollywood, Florida
Monday Evening

After dinner at Pierre's, I do the ironing, watch a great fund raising music concert featuring David Foster and friends on public television and am asleep before my head hits the pillow.
I'm awakened at 11 by what sounds like a thunderous rain storm outside. I wasn't expecting this! But it's not rain, there's obviously some automatic sprinkler system, but it's more a noisy torrent than a sprinkle. Luckily, I get straight back to sleep.
As dawn breaks across the eastern sky, I walk alone on the perfect beach. It is stunningly beautiful and I so want to come back here for a proper holiday.
I'm dreaming of this plan lying in a superbly comfortable hammock, when another couple disturb my reverie.
I am greatly amused that the only thing I am making in my kitchen is a bowl of microwaved porridge. There is every device conceivable, so I could have produced a banquet, had I so wished.
I need to be in Hollywood by half past one, because I am being met by a local PR girl, who is standing in for the Hollywood Visitor Bureau team, who are off at a sales conference. There are no problems on the road, although I have to keep fishing for toll money for the various turnpikes. My Hertz NeverLost GPS system keeps me right, even round some complex junctions near Miami. The roads are horrendously busy, but I am on schedule for my meeting and to collect a bike.
When I arrive at the Desoto Oceanview Inn in Hollywood (www.thedesoto.com), manager, Steve Welsch, is in a bit of a fluster. Everyone has been late checking out, so things are behind. But, no worries, I stash my consumables in the fridge and have my lunch in the serenity of the Inn's lovely peaceful garden. There's still no sign or sound of my host, my itinerary or my bike, so Steve's Venezuelan partner, Josias, kindly lends me his.
I have a very happy couple of hours exploring the superb beaches and the cycle path round the very attractive Anne Kolb nature centre.
I'm not long back at the inn and about to set off in my car to investigate the local rail station, when my host shows up. She's been 'in a meeting'.
I don't think my final two days of 'Hidden Florida' will add a lot to my story. My proposed itinerary consists largely of suggestions of places to eat. It's very disappointing. I am sure there's a lot more to this place, but somebody somewhere has dropped the ball and I am not best pleased.
I've already copped it from Visit Florida's PR people in London for supposedly being too demanding. With more than thirty years in the leisure and tourism business, I expect high standards of professionalism and get very frustrated when people produce sloppy work. Just like Pensacola, Hollywood has not even thought to let me have a map of the local area. Now, I'll be told off again for allegedly wanting to have my hand held too much. Jeez.
But Steve is great. He makes a few phone calls, comes up with some ideas. Meantime, I pore over my Lonely Planet, Rough Guide and map and come up with a plan which will at least give me something which meets my brief..
When I get back from the local TriRail station, Steve and Josias kindly take me out to dinner at a local Cuban restaurant. I can't thank them enough for their kindness.
Back at the Inn, public television is showing, for the third night running, their special fund raising concert. It's jolly good, but three nights in a row?
Even the BBC wouldn't do that!

AirTran Airways Flight 511 Monday noon LOCAL

Clearing the sometimes chaotic US Immigration and Customs last night was, for once, amazingly swift. As the plane is 40 minutes early, I am in fact happily ensconced in my luxurious Aventura Limo (www.aventuralimo.com) before we are even due to have landed! I achieve this by leaving the aircraft first and then walking ahead of the hordes at a brisk trot. However, the people at the end of the queue off the Virgin flight from Heathrow would have a different tale to tell. Having waited an hour to get to immigration, they are understandably livid when the BA wheelchair cases and families with babies are given priority over them.
Having spent ages filling up the ESTA electronic visa waiver, it transpires that the technology is a bit ahead of the reality and pieces of paper still have to be completed. When I query this with the, actually very friendly, immigration officer, he tells me that he can see my electronic approval, but that the system is not yet fully implemented. God alone knows why then it's a British Airways requirement that passengers complete it in advance.
Neil Goodman of Aventura Limo has sent a rather splendid Lincoln Town car to pick me up. It certainly beats having to negotiate airport taxis and the horrors that can arise from them. I had half expected Neil to turn up in his Mini Cooper, but maybe he has had word of my accompanying baggage! My driver, Wolf, whose parents comes from Scandinavia, is not the chattiest of folk, but that may be more to do with my gathering travel weariness than him appearing to be somewhat monosyllabic.
My hotel on Miami Beach, www.theanglersresort.com, is rather splendid. But I have been allocated a room adjacent to a party being held by the general manager's wife, with an indeterminate end time. But they accept my view that a noisy party is not the best neighbour for an increasingly weary traveller and I am moved to a much quieter location. The Angler's does things in some style. My $300 room is much better equipped - and probably just as spacious, as my suite in the Grosvenor House. A very natty sound system even allows me to plug my iPod in and listen to 'From our own Correspondent' while I wash away the stresses and strains of a long journey. I have forgotten just how well Americans do showers. This is enormous, wide enough so that my fully-outstretched elbows don't even touch the walls. Mind you, I discover that mint shampoo can bring a tear to ones' eyes if allowed too close to sensitive bits!
I am invited to dinner, but the staff is, quite clearly, much more focussed on the GM's wife's party and I wait. And wait. And wait. So, I nip across the road to the Outback restaurant, have a very tasty burger that's almost up to the standard of Zak's in Norwich. By 10pm, I am in the land of nod.
At 3.30 am, I am fully awake, very bright-eyed and bushy tailed. Try as I might, jet lag has beaten me.
But there are benefits, I bring yesterday's blog up to date, sort out my luggage for the journey north and, am so ahead of myself, that able to join the joggers along Ocean Drive at 7am. I say join, but you know what I mean!
I am sure it's the very best time to see the art deco district, with the sun just coming up. I walk as far as the extraordinary house where Gianni Versace was so tragically gunned down on his own front doorstep. His killer then went on to kill the husband of Chicago socialite, Marilyn Miglin, whom I have met on a couple of occasions through my US Navy buddy, Ken Beachler.
The municipal parks' department is busy watering the flowers. Impressively, a man drives a lorry with a water tank on the back, then leaps up and points a hose pipe at the plants. Beats watering cans, for sure.
Back at the Angler's, breakfast takes an age to arrive, despite the fact I am the only early-riser waiting. When I question the delay, the girl tells me that she'll deliver my breakfast cereal at the same time as oven baked egg. Very odd. When my granola arrives, it's very tasty but the strawberries are still deep-frozen. The 'Eggs Barnard' with its creamy mushrooms and Virginia ham crisps is tasty, but, at $13 is rather a lot to pay for poached eggs in a bacon nest. Especially with potato wedges which seem to be left-overs from last night's party.
Clearly I haven't spent enough time in mid air, so another wonderful limo arrives at the hotel front door to whisk me, in rather more style than Neil's Mini Cooper, back to the airport! My driver this time is Guillermo, a Columbian. He's thrilled to bits that I can speak Spanish and we pass away the 20 minute transfer to the airport enjoying mixing our languages. He tells me that he can tell my accent is Spanish, rather than south American. I further impress him with my demonstration of Andaluz, which I describe as a Brummie version of English!
I am to have my first experience AirTran airways, an Orlando based operation that, in only 15 years, has grown to become one of the US's biggest low cost carriers, rivalling Air Berlin in size but mimicking an Easy Jet business plan. It clearly works. The Boeing 717 flight (the airline operates an all Boeing fleet) is completely full and a transiting crew member has to squeeze into the jump seat. It's nice to see that, while on the ground, passengers are welcome to visit the flight deck.
I tune into the satellite radio, which has a choice of some 200 channels. Here I am, half way between Miami and Atlanta, listening to the BBC World Service. How weird is that?
Air Tran differs from Easy Jet, in that it offers a small but real business class cabin. I have dressed appropriately, with smart shirt and trousers, but I am the only one. Jeans and trainers are the order of the day. Three passengers even wear baseball caps throughout the flight. I'd forgotten that Americans, and increasingly those people who follow that country's customs, don't remove their hats in spaces that are considered to be indoors. Complimentary alcoholic and soft drinks are served before take off and during the flight, while even passengers in the main cabin get free soft drinks. Eat your heart out Stelios!
I ask cabin crew member Kathy why my connecting flight to Pensacola appears to take only six minutes. I am amused to learn that 'you go back in time to the Panhandle', as Florida's north west is dubbed.
Kathy and I get into quite a chat when I learn that her husband was a naval aviator and was based at the US base at Rota, not far from where I live in Spain. The last time I was there was to visit a Spanish Navy friend and to see the aircraft carrier Principe de Asturias. Amazingly, she doesn't know that the King and Queen of Spain are to visit in only a few days, which may be something to do with security. I have a personal thought that President Obama might put in an appearance, with no substance whatsoever to that view. But it seems to me to be illogical that a foreign monarch whose country supported the Bush-inspired Iraqi war is visiting, and the newly elected President wouldn't pop by to say hello. Or maybe the link with Bush is one very good reason why he would NOT put in an appearance!
My new best friend, Kathy, brings me a cuppa. Fortnum and Mason tea with Walkers shortbread. Here I am at 33,000 feet, drinking English tea, nibbling Scottish shortbread and listening to the BBC. Only in America. Or , of course, in London.
Where Mrs. Manners would surely dictate that the tea should not be drunk while be-hatted?

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.